#expansion shield anchor

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

M6/M8/M12 4pcs shield anchor with color zinc plated,high quality with best price

[ginxyy]

All Yours

“I am all yours”

The rain fell softly against the windowpane, each droplet racing down the glass like a tear on your cheek. You had been staring out into the gray expanse of the world for the last three hours, lost in the tempest of your thoughts. Outside, the colors were muted, a blend of gloom that reflected the chaos swirling inside you. The clouds hung heavy, like the weight of your heart, and everything felt impossibly still except for the ache that pulsated within you.

"You’ve been staring out of the window for the last three hours. Why?" Seungcheol’s voice cut through the silence, gentle yet laced with concern. With his tall frame leaning against the doorframe, he looked at you the way a lighthouse regards a ship lost at sea. His deep brown eyes filled with something that resembled worry, mixed with a hint of something more potent a feeling you had both avoided for far too long.

You turned to face him, forcing a weak smile, but it barely scratched the surface of the turmoil inside you. How could you explain what tangled your heart like ivy wrapped around a forgotten garden? All you could offer was a vague shrug, your lips quivering under the weight of words unsaid.

Seungcheol, your best friend for as long as you could remember, had always been there, a steadfast beacon in the storm. He had watched you fall for someone who had turned out to be a shadow a shell of a person who played with your heart only to toss it aside, bruising it with every word that dripped from his lips like poison. You knew you should leave, but the part of you that had loved so fiercely felt bound to him, tethered by chains of nostalgia and hope.

He stepped closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket. "You deserve so much more than this." His voice was a soothing balm, and the way he said ‘this’ made it clear he understood the pain, the confusion.

“I don’t know how to walk away, Seungcheol,” you finally whispered, your voice quaking. “I thought he loved me. I thought it was real.” Your heart ached as you let the truth spill out. You felt the walls closing in, each breath more labored than the last, and the harsh reality of your situation crashed into you like a wave he was cheating and you were holding on, drowning in the wreckage of a love that should have lifted you.

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed; you could see the deep furrows etched on his forehead as he processed your words. For a fleeting moment, you felt the urge to distance yourself, to shield him from the storm of your emotions, but it was futile. He was your anchor, and you were drawn to him unavoidably, undeniably.

"You think he’s what makes the sun shine," Seungcheol continued, his voice soft yet penetrating, "but darling, he’s not. He’s what makes your eyes tear and your cuts bleed. He’s the thoughts in your head that rip you apart and, my god, I know you love him but he’s killing you." Each word he spoke cut through the haze, piercing the shell you had wrapped around your heart.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, spilling over as the truth of his confession hit you like a tidal wave. You had spent so long trying to convince yourself that this toxic love was a fairy tale. But now, standing before the undeniable clarity of Seungcheol’s words, the truth was painful yet liberating.

As the tears flowed, you felt something shift inside you; the facade you had maintained began to crack. You were drowning in waves of emotion, and all the while, Seungcheol remained steady, his unwavering gaze holding yours like a promise in the storm. In that moment, something deep within you broke open the dam of fear, regret, and hurt gave way to a flood of raw emotion.

You stepped closer to him, the air heavy with unspoken feelings. “I can’t escape it, Seungcheol. I thought I loved him, but now…” your voice trailed off, the realization stinging like a fresh cut.

Before you knew it, you were crying sloppy, soul-cleansing tears that felt like they could wash away the past. And there he was, his arms wrapping around you, holding you together as if you might shatter into a million pieces. You pressed your head against his chest, the rhythmic pounding of his heart synchronizing with your own, grounding you in a way you had never felt before.

Amidst your sobs, you heard him whisper, “I love you.” The words hung between you, thick with sincerity and a promise unspoken. They fluttered gently in the chaos surrounding you, like a feather caught in a gentle breeze. Your heart raced at the confession, but it felt like a lifeline a flicker of light in the darkness that had engulfed you for far too long.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, searching for something—answers, assurance, hope. The heat of his confession lingered in the air, igniting a spark you had been afraid to acknowledge. As your lips met his, it was a kiss drenched in tears, fear, and longing a moment suspended in time where the world faded away.

You didn't know where it would lead. You knew you had to make changes, to confront the darkness that had held you captive for far too long. But in that embrace, wrapped up in the warmth of his love, you felt the chains of your past beginning to loosen a flicker of hope intertwining with the tenderness of a newfound love.

Yet even as your heart soared, a wave of doubt washed over you. You pulled away slightly, the air between you thick with unspoken thoughts. You had so much to figure out the mess you were in, the choices that lay ahead. As you looked at Seungcheol, you saw not just your best friend but a man who had quietly waited in the shadows, ready to love you with a fierceness that could mend your broken pieces.

But as the clock ticked away the precious moments, reality loomed. You had to leave, to face what you had been running from. The corners of your heart still ached for the man who had ensnared you in his web, but now, standing before Seungcheol, you felt newly found clarity; perhaps love could bloom from the ruins.

With a heavy heart, you stepped back, the space between you now fraught with possibilities. “I need to go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, understanding written all over his face, but his eyes spoke of reluctance, of a plea he wished to voice.

However, as you turned to leave, you knew that this was just the beginning, a crossroads of hope and heartache. In that final glance, you locked eyes with Seungcheol one last time, a silent promise between you a promise that in the end, love, even in its most complicated forms, could light the way through the darkest of times.

The days that followed your parting with Seungcheol felt like an endless, oppressive fog. You tried to move forward, to confront the mess you had walked away from, but his voice lingered in your mind, his words echoing in the quiet moments of your solitude. Nights were the hardest, when the stillness wrapped around you and the ache in your chest whispered his name.

Weeks passed, and though you hadn’t spoken to him, you felt his presence in everything. The way his hand had steadied you, the warmth of his arms around you, the quiet strength in his confession it all haunted you. And then there was the kiss, a spark that had ignited something deep and undeniable. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t snuff it out.

By the time the storm clouds gathered again one late night, you couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of what you felt, the pull towards him, was suffocating. You needed to see him, to tell him what had been screaming inside you since the moment you left.

Without thinking, you found yourself running through the rain, your clothes soaked through, your hair plastered to your face. The downpour was relentless, but it couldn’t match the storm inside you. The streets were empty, the world asleep, but your heart was wide awake, thrumming with every step that brought you closer to him.

When you reached Seungcheol’s house, the cold bit at your skin, but the fire inside you burned hotter. Standing before his door, your breath hitched. The weight of your decision pressed down on you, but you didn’t hesitate. You knocked, the sound muffled by the pounding rain.

It took a moment before the door creaked open, and there he was his hair messy, his eyes heavy with sleep. He looked at you, drenched and shivering on his doorstep, and all traces of grogginess vanished. His gaze softened, his concern immediate, but before he could speak, you surged forward.

Your lips met his in a desperate, heated kiss. His body tensed in surprise, but only for a second. Then he melted into you, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you close as if afraid to let you go. The kiss was everything you had held back, a collision of longing, regret, and unspoken truths.

You broke away for a breath, your chest heaving as you pressed your forehead to his. “I’m all yours,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling. The words felt like a release, a surrender to what you had been fighting for far too long.

A low, guttural moan escaped him, and before you could say more, he kissed you again, fiercer this time, pouring everything he felt into you. His hands moved to your thighs, and with a single motion, he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

The house was dim, the air warm compared to the chill outside, but all you could focus on was him. He carried you as if you weighed nothing, his strength anchoring you as he walked towards his bedroom. His lips never left yours, his kiss growing hungrier, more urgent with every step.

When he reached his room, he laid you gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours. His eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a stray droplet of rain. “You mean it?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. “You’re mine?”

You nodded, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. “All yours,” you repeated, the words a vow.

A slow, almost feral smile spread across his lips before he leaned down, capturing your mouth again. The kiss was all-consuming, and as his hands roamed over your body, the world outside ceased to exist. The rain continued to fall, a distant hum against the windows, but inside, there was only the two of you.

Seungcheol’s lips traveled to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His hands explored you with a tenderness that made your heart ache, yet there was a fire in his touch that spoke of years of restrained desire finally unleashed.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice heavy with emotion. “For you.”

You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, your breath hitching as he pressed kisses to your collarbone. “I’m sorry I made you wait,” you whispered, your voice breaking with the weight of your feelings. “I was scared… but I’m here now.”

He stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes shining with something raw and vulnerable. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his words made your chest tighten.

That night, wrapped in each other’s arms, you let go of the past, the pain, the doubt. In Seungcheol’s embrace, you found a safety you had never known, a love that didn’t hurt but healed. As the rain fell outside, washing away the remnants of yesterday, you felt something new take root hope.

[sockeye-station]

Wait is your four the captain? How did that happen?

YES! YES!! I GOT SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT! I WIN!!!!

CLEARS THROAT. OKAY OKAY OKAY IVE HAD THIS ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR A HOT FUCKN MINUTE AND ILL TRY MY BEST TO EXPLAIN IT IN A WAY THAT MAKES SENSE

OKAY. LETS REWIND ALL THE WAY BACK TO OCTO EXPANSION!!!

so! octo expansion goes all normally, we have our agent 8 fighting through the entire structure to escape, agent 3 gets brainwashed, they have to fight, yadda yadda. you probably know how it goes by now. But here's the thing.

what if i went ahead and changed a tiny thing. just the teensiest detail.

what if instead of spamming splashdowns, tartar decides to use one big fuck off booyah bomb.

"but, didn't booyah bomb come out after octo expansion?"

yes. yes it did. and that's why i chose booyah bomb specifically.

tartar whipped out the idea to use a booyah bomb from some prototypes it found out about after abducting god-knows-who, and used it despite its unstable build. No one, at that moment, knew whatever that was, what it did, how dangerous it was, or anything of the sort. This was some sort of last hurrah, as it knew that this was its last shot at stopping this failure from escaping the facility. And so it exerted Agent 3 into giving it everything he's got. Quite literally, even! It pushed him so hard, he too became unstable while trying to mantain and boost the energy ball.

The Booyah Bomb is thrown with as much power as Tartar could muster out of that creature, pretty much covering most of the arena. Once the ink settles, and Agent 8 gathers his senses, he looks around. Agent 3 is nowhere to be seen.

at no point in canon is sanitized agent 3 properly splatted throughout the fight — you only break their shield, they superjump back to their platform, and you eventually knock them out. you never splat them. so who's to say that, just like agent 8 during the ascent, they don't have a respawn anchor?

That's what I decided to play with here. Agent 3 is splatted with no respawn anchor. Agent 3 is dead.

The rest of octo expansion plays as normal, only that there's no passed out Agent 3 waiting at the helicopter.

Starting from here, Agent 8 becomes affiliated with the NSS through Cuttlefish after breaking the news, feeling like he needs to make it up for the loss they suffered as he feels responsible for it. He grows closer with Agent 4, and eventually they become closer friends, even staying at her place after she invited him once their friendship was more developed. This paragraph is mostly to explain how they know each other and how their friendship started, also explaining why my Agent 8 gives OtH Agent 4's number instead of Cuttlefish.

Okay! Now, back to the point of this ask. I actually had a bit of this typed out in a server I'm in!

[Agent 4] didn't really have a choice when it came to becoming Captain, being the fifth longest-standing member of the NSS after craig, the squisters and agent 3. craig was retiring, the squid sisters were still busy with their inkopolis celebrity scene, and [Agent 3] was dead. so she was the next best option.

she didnt really ask for this in the first place, and yet she accepted out of hopes of being acknowledged. When she was just an agent, the rest of the team didn't keep in touch with her much (except for Agent 8) after the events of OE, and at one point even stopped being called for whenever Callie got the shades on again. Whenever she patrolled, she did it without any previous call, and was rarely acknowledged by the others. She still kept visiting the canyon whenever she could after everyone else had moved on.

even after becoming the "captain", the others didnt usually reach out to her for assistance, and instead tended to act on their own. they never really took her as captain, rarely listening to her. so obviously this whole mess made her feel like absolute dogshit, questioning why she even decided to go through with this.

that title was meant for [Agent 3]. not for her. he was the one that came before her, and was better than her in so many ways. at least that's what the others kept repeating around her.

as much of a punch in the gut being constantly compared to someone else was, she kept pushing to try and make herself known, separate from the other's achievements. which is why she ended up accepting marina's request.

[doumadono]

Hi, new follower to your blog and I have to say I really love your writings. I might have a Emergency Request to ask you.

In these past months I'm seeing a therapist for varius life problems. Doc said that I'm somehow a “succub” of my mom with the way she controls some aspects of my life and still babies me despite me beign an adult. She's not a bad mother, she always given me the love and attention any child could ask for, but in some aspects (like money, friends, ecc...) I do agree she's nosy and overprotective and we do argue, quite violently too sometimes.

May I please ask for either Hawks or Dabi (whichever is fine) comforting their SO after a fight with their parent. I just need to be told I can be strong and independent on my own. Thanks in advance💙.

Hawks and Dabi & s/o after a fight with their parents

A/N: it's important to recognize that acknowledging certain dynamics with your mom doesn't diminish the love and care she has provided. It's a testament to your maturity and self-awareness. Identifying areas where you feel controlled or overprotected is a crucial step towards personal growth. It's a journey towards establishing healthier boundaries and finding a balance that respects both your independence and the love you share. Embrace the progress you're making, and continue to communicate openly with your therapist.

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Hawks

The apartment was cloaked in a heavy silence, an aftermath of the emotional tempest that had unfolded during your phone call with your parent. Hawks, ever attuned to your moods, noted the turmoil etched across your face. He moved gracefully towards you, the subtle rustle of his feathers accompanying his approach. With a gentle touch, he enveloped you in the expansive embrace of his wings, creating a sanctuary that shielded you from the outside world. "I know it's hard," Hawks spoke, his voice a soothing melody that echoed through the room, "But strength doesn't mean facing everything on your own. It's okay to lean on others, especially those who genuinely care about you." His fingers traced a delicate path across your face, wiping away the remnants of tears.

You nodded your head slightly. "I-I… I know, Keigo, but I don't want to be a burden…"

"I've been where you are," Hawks admitted, his eyes reflecting the weight of his own past. "But you, you're a force to be reckoned with. You've got the strength to rise above this, and I'm right here with you every step of the way. And you're never a burden. Ever."

With a lingering smile, he pulled away slightly, looking into your eyes. "You've got this," he reassured, his hand cupping your cheek. "And remember, I'm here whenever you need someone."

"Thank you," you whispered, looking up into Hawks' golden eyes.

He offered you a genuine smile. "Don't thank me, dove. It hurts my heart to see you like this," he admitted, his tone stripped of its usual carefree cadence. "Your tears, they hit differently. I'm supposed to be the one who soars above troubles, but when it comes to you… it's different."

His hand reached out, fingers brushing away a lingering tear, as if trying to erase the pain etched on your face. Hawks gazed into your eyes, determination replacing the concern. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes for those tears to drop rarely, you know? Whether it's fighting the world or just being here, I want to see you smiling more than anything else."

Dabi

The cityscape outside your window twinkled in a mesmerizing dance of lights, a stark contrast to the lingering tension from your confrontation with your parent. Dabi, leaning against the wall, observed your restless pacing with a quiet determination. With a swift yet gentle motion, he reached for your hand, his touch a cool anchor amidst the emotional tempest.

"Independence is about choosing who deserves a place in your life," Dabi asserted out of sudden, his words cutting through the lingering turmoil. "You don't need anyone who brings you down, especially not family. You're stronger than you think, and you have every right to be independent and happy."

"You know it is not that easy," you told him, sitting on a couch, pulling your knees under your chin. "I know that deep down they do love me, but sometimes they just… It seems like… Like they're crowding me, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

"I get it," Dabi murmured, his voice a low rasp that betrayed a depth of understanding. "Dealing with family is a special kind of hell, isn't it?"

He sat next to you, his demeanor shifting from the usual standoffishness to a more contemplative stance. "I've been down that road. Having people who are supposed to care but don't… it messes with your head yeah? But you know what, you're not alone in this."

Dabi's turquise eyes bore into yours, a shared pain reflected in their depths. "Sometimes, the hardest battles are the ones fought at home. And not everyone gets it. But I do. I know what it's like, and I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but I'm saying you're stronger than you think. I mean it, Y/N."

He reached out, his hand gently resting on your shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity. "You deserve better. And you've got a choice — you can let them define you or rise above it. I'm here if you choose the latter."

As Dabi spoke, he drew you into a tight embrace, his warmth a stark contrast to his typically cool exterior. "I've seen too many people get held back by toxic ties," Dabi murmured, his voice carrying a rare tenderness. "You're not one of them. You're capable of breaking free and forging your path. And remember," he added, his eyes locking onto yours, "you've got me by your side."

[arcanarix]

Fated Divergence, Ch. 8 // Yandere! Suguru Geto X Non-Sorcerer Darling

AO3 (+prev. chapter)

Word count: 4K

cw // domestic stuff, MC wearing geto's clothes ;)

During the meeting Suguru hosted, as expected, you remained glued to his side, ruling alongside him as King and Queen amongst his subjects. You maintained your serene façade though the atmosphere felt tense and staticky.

The meeting room was a vast, expansive, cavernous space, mirroring the grandeur of the temple which housed it. The ceiling soared high; the walls, lined with dark, polished wood—mahogany?—gave the room that austere vibe.

At the center of the room stretched an imposing table. Even the table itself was a masterpiece, hewn from a single slab of rich, dark wood, reflecting the light from the chandeliers above. Surrounding it, were Geto’s fellow leaders and devoted followers seated, their expressions full of anticipation as they waited for him to speak.

You and Geto stood apart from them, elevated on a raised platform—essentially a throne. The platform was draped in deep, crimson fabric, rich and velvety to the touch, exuding regality that Geto always wanted to emulate. Here you were, standing beside Geto, his silent command of keeping you by his side. You felt far too much like an intruder in this world of jujutsu sorcery, and you were. Yet Geto’s subtle yet firm hand resting on your knee, conveyed his desire for you to remain there with him through all of this.

Nanako and Mimiko, blissfully unaware, were lost in their own worlds, whispering and giggling to each other like schoolgirls as if the severity of everything that happened around the temple eluded them. The weight of dozens of eyes on you, each one laden in judgment, made you quiver in your seat. You didn’t know who any of these people were, or their significance, only that they were other sorcerers that condoned Geto’s actions and aligned with his cause. All of their gazes felt like daggers through your heart…full of disdain, disgust, curiosity, perhaps? Even envy from the women?

All more than likely due to the fact that, in spite of being a non-sorcerer, you were standing here as Geto’s precious wife—a position they couldn’t wrap their heads around, let alone accept.

You shifted under their harsh scrutiny, your hand tightening around the hem of your sleeve as if that little act would shield you from their contempt. Those judgy murmurs and side glances became more apparent to you by the minute, low hums of disapproval filling the air. It was a look you weren’t familiar with at all—you didn’t belong with them.

“Damn, Geto,” a man’s voice cut through the tension like a sword through the neck. He stood out from the rest, his presence commanding attention as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into slits as he assessed you. “I knew you had that dog in you, but for someone like her?”

That accent of his was thick, the words rolling off of his tongue with a heavy lift that hinted at his Kenyan roots. His judgmental eyes raked over you, not with the usual resentment you had come to expect from those who followed Geto, but with something more akin to awe, even a note of disbelief.

“Guess even you can’t resist a perfect pussy no matter whose it is, huh?”

The room froze from that statement, all of those eyes on you now flitting between you and Geto. Your breath caught in your throat, heart pounding rapidly as the man’s crude words echoed in your ears. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to shrink away, to disappear, to evaporate, but the pressure of Geto’s presence beside you anchored you in place.

Geto’s reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed, his forehead creased from frustration, the air around him growing cold and ominous as he shot a glare that could have turned the man to stone. His hand, which had ben resting idly on the meeting table, now clenched into a tight fist until a vein threatened to pop.

“Watch your tone, Miguel,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, each word laden with a barely restrained fury. “She’s far more than that to me.”

‘Miguel’ stepped back, holding his hands up in his defense. “Hey, man, I’m just saying. This is the woman I forged those wedding bands for, right? Just making sure you’re happy with your choice.”

“Return to your post,” Geto demanded icily to Miguel without another thought.

Your gaze flitted up at Geto, your heart skipping a beat in spite of knowing better. He spoke about you to his followers as if you were something truly precious to him. You almost would have believed it—a dangerous warmth began to spread in your chest. You forced it down, though, reminding yourself of something important.

Don’t fall for it, you thought, trying to steady your racing heart and mind. It’s not real. None of this is real.

But then Geto’s hand shifted, his bony, slender fingers brushing against yours as if to reassure you. You peered at him. What was this? Another test? Did he honestly think this was love he felt for you? You couldn’t fight the slight tremor as you retracted your hand, retreating back into the safety of your own reality, where his words or actions couldn’t reach you or affect you like he hoped they would.

Yet, Geto chased after yours, entwining his hand with yours, squeezing gently. All for those hundreds of eyes to behold. The warmth of his skin against yours shielded you from the icy atmosphere, filled with cold calculations and hidden agendas. Those hundreds that continued to bore down on the two of you couldn’t ignore Geto’s declaration. Nobody ever dared to question Geto’s choices.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught onto a woman with striking pink air, styled meticulously with waves that cascaded down her sharp features. Her posture was rigid and controlled, exuding an air of professionalism—one of Geto’s secretaries, you remembered seeing her a handful of times. She glowered at the sight of your intertwined hands, and her lips twisted into a scoff—barely audible but potent in its meaning. You saw that flash of envy across her face, hard to miss. You weren’t stupid; many people joined Geto’s cult merely because he was attractive, not because they believed in his cause. They all kissed up his ass like they were made for it.

That glare of hers lingered on your joined hands, zeroing in on the wedding bands that now overlapped each other—something she clearly refused to approve of, not in this life or any life. She clearly held as much disdain for non-sorcerers as the others did.

You turned a blind eye, though the weight of her scrutiny was indeed suffocating.

Geto, unaffected and collected as ever, raised his head slightly over his subjects, his piercing violet gaze sweeping across the room, as if expecting someone to challenge his personal life choices. His thumb traced comforting circles along your knuckles—a gesture which didn’t go unnoticed especially by her. The secretary’s eyes flitted back up to meet his, and something unspoken passed between them—likely a silent acknowledgement of his choices. Manami, you remembered her name, would be loyal to Geto even if she hated who he supposedly loved.  

Geto’s eyes landed on you, and you swallowed a thick wad of nothing, pulse quickening as his hardened eyes grew tender, for a brief moment. There was something in his expression that you didn’t dare name, that you didn’t dare humor the thought of at all. In that moment, the world around the two of you faded, leaving you to just the ‘comfort’ of his touch and reassurance.

But you knew better. You couldn’t afford to be stupid.

You kept telling yourself that, anyway…so why couldn’t your heart be still?

That meeting of Geto’s dragged on far longer than you expected (or perhaps it felt that way because of all of those people staring at you). The room filled with murmurs of low voices and the constant shuffling of papers. The discussions which mattered not to you blurred as your mind wandered, your thoughts scattered everywhere. Not like you mattered in this conversation, anyway; Geto just wanted to keep you close. You caught glimpses of the disapproval in his followers’ eyes, fleeting glances of curiosity and disdain, but you finally masked that discomfort over the course of the meeting.

As Geto dismissed everyone from the meeting and the room began to empty, you let out a sigh of relief. The tension that had coiled tightly in your entire body began to unwind as his followers dispersed, but there was still a lingering sense of unease. You snuck a glance at Geto, whose eyes followed the others out, his eyes slightly narrowed as though he was considering something beyond the conversations that had transpired. You often found yourself wondering what thoughts brewed behind those violet eyes of his.

You rose from your seat when the room emptied, happy to return to your shared room with Geto, for once. As you made your way through the winding corridors, the oppressive silence of the place seemed to close around you again. Each step echoed off of the wooden floors, amplifying the emptiness of the temple.

Upon reaching Geto’s bedroom, you realized with mild annoyance that most of your borrowed clothes had been tossed aside, leaving you with little options to wear. You recalled idly that it was wash day today, and the few items they had lent you were now out of commission. A quick search through the drawers only further confirmed what you already knew—you may have to borrow Geto’s clothes for the first time.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you rummaged through his neatly folded clothes. It matched his entire personality—of course he’d be meticulously organized when it came to his personal belongings. Everything had its place, from the carefully arranged robes to the neatly folded casual wear he seldom wore around others. Only in the privacy of his bedroom during your late nights together, had you seen him relax his guard enough to don something other than his over-the-top robe ‘for the spectacle.’

You settled on one of his cotton off-white button-ups, the fabric soft and comforting. The shirt was definitely a few sizes too big; the sleeves hung well past your wrists, and the hem fell just below your thighs. As you buttoned it up, the subtle scent of his cologne wafted up to your nose…sandalwood and some citrusy notes. You almost found it comforting, grounding you in that moment after such a tense meeting (only for you). Your heart skipped a beat as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in his clothes.

Would this make him go nuts?

Or did that only happen in romance novels?

You paused, reflecting upon your thoughts with a frown.

…Why were you pondering a true romance with Geto? The hell had gotten into you?

The shirt of his hung loosely on your frame, emphasizing just how much larger, and taller, Geto was compared to you. A thought crossed your mind—he really did hide so much muscle beneath that robe of his, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by you during your intimate moments together. You smoothed down the fabric, noting how it clung a bit to your curves before flowing outwards, creating a nice silhouette. The pants you borrowed from Geto were equally oversized, cinched at the waist with a belt to keep them from slipping off. This entire thing felt damn comical, but it wasn’t like you were going to be out of the temple.

You glanced at your reflection again.

If he saw you like this, borrowing his clothes without spoken permission…would his mask slip again?

You were keen on pushing him a little further—see how far you could take his obsession with you. It made you feel a kind of power you never felt before.

Taking your time, you adjusted the sleeves, pretending to be oblivious to the effect you might have on him. That fabric spilled over your hands, making it difficult to see your fingers, and you frowned slightly as you tried to roll them up without much ease. This act had served to be more of a distraction, though, a way to keep yourself occupied while you waited for him to return. Your heart beat a little faster with each passing moment; the anticipating coiling in your gut as the minutes ticked on by.

Not a few minutes longer you had to wait, and you heard the soft creak of the door opening behind you. You decided not to turn around, decided not to acknowledge his presence just yet. You pretended to be occupied, fiddling with the sleeves, your head bent low and eyes downcast as if you were focused entirely on the task at hand to even notice he entered the room at all. The silence stretched between you—thick, heady, heavy—and his gaze landed on you, sharp, assessing, curious.

When you finally glanced up to see him through your lashes, you found him standing in the doorway, cemented in his position, his hand gripping tightly to the doorknob. That calm demeanor of his shattered, replaced by something raw, unguarded. Those eyes of his, which always carried an air of detachment, were now darkened with something—lust, yes, without a shadow of a doubt, but there was something else in there too. Something that took your breath away.

He uttered your name in a low, affectionate rasp—a way he never said your name before. A prickle of uncertainty danced down your spine from that. You never heard him say your name like that, not without its usual possessive notes. This time, it was more than possessive—intimate, affectionate, even. Your pulse quickened again. Your gaze locked on his, and the sight before nearly made you succumb to the unease.

Those dark violet eyes, hooded, roamed over you with a hunger he could barely restrain. (You didn’t want him to. You wanted him to give in.) He looked at you like he fought to maintain any fragment of self-control he had left. He tightened his grip on the doorknob, his knuckles whitening, as if that was the only thing that could keep him grounded in that moment. You fought the smile playing on your lips as you studied the struggle in his eyes, the war he waged against himself, between desire and restraint, and you were the cause of it.

That made you, in your bones, thrilled.

Determined to keep up the act, you cleared your throat, making your voice waver with some nervousness.

“Sorry,” you said bashfully, your voice taking on a note of innocence as well, for good measure. “Most of my clothes are headed to the laundry today.”

Geto blinked once, twice, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he tried to process your words through the headiness of the atmosphere. It looked like something in his brain short-circuited. His throat worked as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to find his voice. All that came out was a soft, almost inaudible sound—something between a groan and a sigh.

His jaw locked, his muscles tensed and relaxed like he was holding back something primal, beastly. His eyes traced the line of your body, from the way his shirt clung to your curves, and finally down to where the pants hung loosely around your hips.

Did you break him, or something?

You definitely weren’t mad about it. That was the response you hoped for, and then some.

Finally, he gained some semblance of control, but it could snap at any given moment, teetering on the edge.

He uttered your name in that same, affectionate way again. A way you never once heard him speak.

“You…” that voice of his, rough, ragged, labored, like he struggled to get the words out. Speechless, for once, from someone who loved to hear himself talk and gloat. He trailed off, at a loss for how to approach the situation. He took a step forward, closing the distance between you with just a few long strides.

The air between you crackled with tension. Your heart beat faster and faster. As he closed in on you, he didn’t reach to touch you right away. He stood just a breath away from you, close enough that you could feel the storm of emotions radiating off of his body.

But you found yourself wanting him closer to you, flush against you, desiring you.

He locked his stare on yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t rip your eyes away. The intensity drew you in like a moth to a flame. He looked like he was committing every detail of this moment to memory; there was even a rare glimpse of vulnerability in his expression.

For some reason, it made your heart ache, like that vulnerability was from the shadow of the man Satoru once knew and loved with all of his heart.

He reached out to you, his fingers brushing against the sleeve of his shirt you wore. His touch was light, fleeting. But it knocked the wind out of you. His fingers trailed down your arm, tracing the outline of the fabric like he wasn’t sure if this was for real or not.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered. Those words spilling from his mouth were simple, but the way he uttered them with such reverence, in a much more genuine way this time, made your chest tighten and your stomach churn. There was no disconnection, no condescension in that tone…all of his typical air of arrogance and superiority disappeared.

You had never felt more powerful, but you needed to tread carefully.

You swallowed hard on a lump of nothing, maintaining that air of feigned innocence as his hand moved from your arm to your waist, fingers slipping under the fabric to rest against your bare skin, eliciting a soft sigh out of you. His touch, ever possessive, was somehow also grounding, as if he was afraid you might slip from his grasps. As if he truly cherished you, like he couldn’t bear to let you go. You could feel the tension melt away from his body.

“I-I’m just borrowing your clothes until mine are ready.” You were surprised you could maintain an even tone. You tried to be a little playful with those words, but they came out softer, more meek, and more breathless than you intended.

Geto raised an eyebrow at that, likely in disbelief—why? Not like you had an idea. He secured his grip around your waist, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin. He pulled you in flush against him, his breath fanning against the sensitive skin of your ear.

“It’s not about the shirt,” he stated, his voice a low rumble. Your skin tingled from his touch.

The playful game you initiated between the two of you now felt like it had spiraled into something else.

What that was—you didn’t dare to name.

Because it wasn’t real. None of this was.

This wasn’t love he could feel for you.

He addressed your name.

“Do you understand,” he began, growling, a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “What you are doing to me?”

His bony, slender thumb brushed softly over your skin. When you didn’t respond, he laughed dryly.

“Perhaps you do know,” he added with a little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, but that smile didn’t reach his eyes.

You blinked, a bead of sweat dripping from your brow. Your throat suddenly ran dry as you tried to find your voice.

“Suguru?” you inquired, but you couldn’t finish as whatever you intended to say died on your tongue as his fingers traced patterns over your skin, committing every part of your body to his memory.

He closed in, so close that his nose brushed over yours, his gaze lowering to your lips. The air between you crackled again, a challenge hanging between you.

Could you stop him?

You couldn’t. Or you wouldn’t.

Suguru made his move before you could blink, his lips brushing against yours, feathery light, fleeting.

Your heart beat wildly, your body instinctively leaning into him, an invitation. But he didn’t give into you, not just yet. He pulled back just a fraction, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. Not that it would change his mind; he’d still take you then and there regardless of your choice. You didn't have any here, anymore. Not really.

All he followed was that yearning that burned in his chest.

In a smooth motion, his hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer against him. His other hand on your cheek tangled in your hair, tilting your head just enough to plunge his lips onto yours, a kiss that was far from gentle. It was hungry, full of need, want, and all the desire he felt for you.

The severity of your situation faded away; your senses only focused on his arms wrapped around you, offering a false sense of security. His lips moved against yours with desperation, trying to communicate everything he couldn’t put into words or into actions either. Your head began to spin.

Your hands rested against his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his robe. You could feel the solid muscle beneath the fabric, the way his heart pounded in sync with yours, and it made you want to press even closer to him, in spite of yourself.

Geto’s grip on you tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips. Despite yourself, a moan escaped you, muffled by the kiss, and he smiled against your lips in response. Not smirked, but smiled. His hand on your back slid lower, tracing the curve of your spine, resting on your butt.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you caught your breath. Those violet eyes of his were still dark, hooded with desire for you, but also notes of softness. That same ache in your chest came back.

Somewhere in there, somewhere in that monster, was a boy who experienced terrible things.

“It’s not about the shirt,” he said again, voice hoarse. His thumb traced your lower lip, swollen and cracked from the kiss.

You merely wished to get under his skin, but was it more than a game to him now?

Your breath still came in shallow gasps. You would admit you felt some pull toward Geto, some kind of attraction, and maybe the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world made your heart flutter.

But you remembered not to be stupid.

Play into it, you reminded yourself. Give him everything.

“I know,” you replied, voice barely audible in the room. Your fingers brushed against his cheek, and he leaned into your touch. In another world, it would have made your heart swell. “It’s more than that. I’m more to you, Suguru.”

Keep up the act. That’s all this is. An act.

It’s just survival.

Geto shut his eyes, savoring the sound of your voice, the false sentiment your words carried, like he believed there was truth to them.

“You’re the only one in this cursed world I care about,” he affirmed, his voice firm, yet gentle. “I’m yours; you’re mine. Never doubt my devotion to you, my Goddess.”

You would melt at those words had you heard it from anyone else, someone you actually loved, someone who actually loved you, wholly and completely.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood and citrusy notes as you tried to relax in his hold, to give him what he wanted. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“Til the end of the world,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I am loyal to my Goddess.”

And you wanted desperately to believe him. You wanted to believe he could feel something beyond possession, beyond conquest, beyond power. But that wasn’t likely. You would play along in this little grand scheme of this, but you weren’t loyal to him.

You never would be.

You knew not to be stupid.

He hoisted you up by your bottom, the strength in his arms evident as he effortlessly lifted you from the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, anchoring you to him as he led you to the bed. Give him what he wants. You kept reminding yourself. His lips plunged to yours with a fervor, locking you in a kiss that didn’t feel like he intended on claiming you this time. Not like before.

Don’t be stupid. You kept reminding yourself. Don’t be stupid.

Don’t be stupid.

You knew this was coming—the way his eyes flashed with that familiar, hungry gleam always gave it away. The air crackled between you like electricity. He held onto you with tenderness and raw desire. He wanted to ravish you; he wanted to make you feel…beloved, even.

He fell back on his back on the bed, his lips still locked on yours.

Don’t be stupid. Your mind replayed the thought over and over again.

Please don’t fall for it.

“Keep the shirt on,” he breathed against your lips. “When I fuck you senseless.”

[sadnymi]

"My Dreams Are Just Dreams... Untit They're Not" modern Mattheo riddle × reader [ chapter two ]

[Previous chapter][Next chapter]

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language,childhood trauma ,abusing, cheating ( not the main characters)

words: 2,350

Reading Time : 9mins 20sec

Summery: A week at my best friend's beach house, surrounded by our friends as we meet her soon-to-be fiancé's companions, marks a turning point where the very fabric of my beliefs begins to unravel. It's during this week that I encounter the boy who incessantly appears in my dreams, blurring the distinction between the world of my subconscious and the tangible reality before me. Matthe Riddle emerges as the poison I willingly imbibe, a curse that feels akin to a dream, weaving its tendrils into the very essence of my being.

[Gif is not mine]

His fingers seize the waistband of my panties, tearing the fabric like paper as he pulls it away from my body with a smirk. Anticipation grips my senses as I feel my core tighten. With one hand, he trails towards my center, while the other ascends to my neck, encircling it with just enough pressure for me to sense it.

Landing down to kiss my collarbone softly, I moaned having my hands on his hair , staring to suck and leave heavy marks on me i can’t stop but letting a cry out of my mouth kissing his way to my neck my jaw not leaving any insh while his hand circling my clit

He looked me in the eyes still having his other hand on my neck,

“ you need to wake up love “ he gently said , prompting me to jolt awake, my body drenched in sweat as I struggled to catch my breath.

That’s the thing about wet dreams, they kept me hostage for a lingering sensations that held me captive for days. Placing my hands over my racing heart, I couldn't shake the memory of his face. For the first time in my life, I uttered his name—Well —I moaned it

Pushing aside the tangled sheets, I rose from the bed and made my way to the window, the cool ocean breeze tousling my hair as I gazed out at the expansive shoreline stretching before me. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves seemed to echo the tumultuous thoughts swirling within me, each crest and trough a reflection of the uncertainty that plagued my mind.

Mattheo Riddle—his name echoed in my thoughts like a haunting refrain, stirring feelings of both fascination and trepidation within me.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the steady rise and fall of my chest, willing myself to remain calm despite the storm raging inside my mind.

"I must not fear," I repeated softly,

the words feeling foreign yet strangely comforting on my tongue.

"I must not let it consume me , fear has no power if he did not find a body to take "

With each repetition, a sense of calm washed over me, as if the words were weaving a protective barrier around me, shielding me from the darkness threatening to engulf me. I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, willing myself to remain anchored in the present moment.

The morning sun bathed the beach house in a golden glow, but inside, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension. I blinked away the remnants of sleep, my mind already heavy with the weight of the previous night's events , with the dream I need a very cold shower to forget . With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the bed went straight to the bathroom taking my time under the water trying to forget the touch and the whisper of a not strange anymore someone on my dreams

slipped into a red top and short black skirt enough to hide what I don't want anyone but me to see - the secret I'm still not ready to share a battle I didn't want to celebrate its win yet

With each step down the stairs, my heart beat faster, anticipation mingling with apprehension.

As I stepped into the kitchen, a gasp escaped my lips at the sight before me. There, hunched over the counter, was Mattheo, his dark hair falling in disarray around his face. My heart skipped a beat as a wave of shock washed over me, rendering me speechless.

I stood frozen in place, my mind reeling with disbelief. I hadn't expected to find him here, of all places, and the realization left me feeling as though I couldn't breathe. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as I struggled to process the sight before me.

Without a word, I slowly made my way towards him, my footsteps echoing loudly in the silence of the room. Every nerve in my body was on edge, and I couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that coursed through me.

As I reached his side, I hesitated, unsure of what to say or do. The air between us crackled with tension, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he could sense the turmoil raging inside me.

As Mattheo rummaged through the cupboards in search of what I assume was the coffee I couldn't suppress the urge to break the silence. "It's in the blue canister on the top shelf," I offered quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, gesturing towards where I had seen Sarah stash it the day before.

Mattheo's eyes met mine, and for a moment, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. Gratitude shone in their depths, but beneath the surface, there was something else, something elusive and mysterious. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice soft with appreciation, yet tinged with an enigmatic edge.

I nodded in response, the nervous fluttering in my chest growing stronger with each passing moment. And then, without warning, the words slipped out, fueled by a sudden surge of curiosity. "Have we met?"

He paused, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary, as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, and for a brief moment, I regretted breaking the silence. But then, with a smirk , he replied, "I don't believe we have. Did we?"

I remained silent, the weight of his gaze heavy upon me, my mind racing as I struggled to find the right words. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound emerged, the words caught in the tangled web of my thoughts.

Just as I was about to give voice to the jumble of emotions swirling inside me, Mattheo spoke, his voice breaking through the tense silence. "You always seem to be wearing red," he remarked, his tone casual

I blinked in surprise, taken aback by his observation. Memories of yesterday flooded back to me, the vivid image of myself in a red hoodie etched into my mind. And now, here I was, once again clad in the same color.

Before I could formulate a response, Mattheo continued, his words laced with intrigue. "Yesterday, and now i mean ," he added, his gaze lingering on me

I cleared my throat, feeling a flush creeping up my cheeks as I tried to gather my thoughts. "I...uh, I guess I have a thing for red," I replied, trying to smile and hide how nervous I was my voice coming out in a nervous murmur.

"It's just a coincidence, really," I replied, my voice betraying none of the turmoil churning within me. But inside, I knew the truth—I couldn't deny it. Red wasn't just a coincidence; it was my armor, my shield against the uncertainties of the world.

I longed to tell him the real reason, to confess that red was the only color you would ever find me wearing, the only color I felt safe enough wearing. But the words remained lodged in my throat, trapped by the weight of my insecurities and fears. So instead, I forced a small smile and turned away, hoping he wouldn't see through the facade I had constructed around myself.

I summoned every ounce of courage to broach the subject of Mattheo's tattoo, my heart pounding with anticipation. But just as I opened my mouth to speak, his phone pierced the air with an insistent ringtone, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Mattheo's expression shifted, with fleeting glance in my direction, he went outside to answer the call leaving me standing there, my heart sinking with disappointment. With a heavy sigh, I watched him disappear through the door, a knot of frustration tightening in my chest.

As the door closed behind him, a heavy silence settled over the kitchen , broken only by the muffled sound of his voice drifting in from the other side. I stood there, clutching my bag tightly against my chest, feeling the weight of disappointment pressing down on me.

Minutes later and a sound of laughter and chatter behind me went unnoticed, until a familiar voice broke through my reverie. Turning around, I was met with the sight of Julie and Penny standing a few feet away

"Oh the princess herself “ ulie remarked with a smirk, i hate that nickname name , I hate it more than i hate the one he used to call me with

But I forced a strained smile, masking my humiliation behind a facade “ hello Julie I’m glad you’re finally here “

"Y/n, look what penny get us " Sarah exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth.she showed me her favorite candy that penny just bought

Getting the girls bags to their room and chatting with Sarah on the kitchen while making breakfast didn’t manage to get my mind of mattheo or a dream I’m trying to forget — even when the boys are finally awake I still find my myself looking at the door wondering where did he go

“ hiii from earth to y/n “ Sarah says weaving her hand in front of my face

"My apologies, I lost focus for a moment what did you say”

“ I was asking you to get the orange juice from the fridge“

I made an effort to maintain composure,even suggesting we wait for "your other friend" while feigning forgetfulness of his name. Nodding in agreement as Lorenzo identified him as Matteo,, even though I harbored a hidden disappointment. Struggling to conceal my emotions, I found it unexpectedly challenging to acknowledge my own sense of letdown.

As Penny and I made our way into the living room , she wrapped me in a tight hug, "I've missed you," she murmured softly, her words filled with genuine longing.

Returning the hug with equal fervor, I couldn't help but smile at her. "I've missed you too," I replied, feeling grateful for her presence.

My gaze landed on the group of boys gathered around the couch, their voices blending into a lively chatter.

Among them, Lorenzo rose from his seat, a soft smile playing on his lips as he approached Sarah. With a tender kiss , he led her to seat on his lap

"Boys, what do you think of our mysterious beach house?" Julie inquired with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Julie, hush," Sarah interjected, laughter lacing her words.

"Come on, darling, enlighten our guests about the supposed ghosts."said Lorenzo

"Ghosts? Oh, this just keeps getting more intriguing," Blaise chimed in eagerly.

Sarah shook her head, a skeptical expression on his face. "I highly doubt there's any truth to those tales. It's likely just a story concocted by my grandparents to dissuade nighttime adventures and ensure a peaceful night's sleep for the adults."

“ you’re no fun “ Blaise said pretending to be hurt

"What do you think, Y/N?"" you have been there almost every summer with Sarah, since you were kids ". Lorenzo inquired, and I hesitated before responding.

"I haven't actually stayed here much; my stepfather's house is just five minutes away. As far as I know, there aren't any ghosts, at least not while the sun is still up."

“ oh hold on, your stepfather’s house? Is it a haunted house now ? “ Blaise inquired

I wanted to tell him that it has already been a haunted house perhaps without ghosts, but harboring a different kind of menace—a monster that haunts one's existence indefinitely, a specter that one endeavors tirelessly to expunge from memory.

"Enough about ghosts, are we in middle school?" Penny quipped, her words drawing a smile from me. I understood her intent—to shift the conversation—and felt a surge of gratitude towards her.

"Trust me, ghosts were the last thing on my mind in middle school," Blaise asserted

"He was too busy crushing on our 50-year-old professor," a voice chimed in from behind. I made an effort to maintain composure, concealing the emotions stirred within me upon hearing his voice.“ he was busy crushing over our 50 years old professor “ a voice from behind said, I tried to stay calm and hide the feeling I got inside my by just hearing his voice

"Shut up, mate. You didn't have to say that. In my defense, ladies, she was hot ."

“ stop. It “ “ gross “ come from Theodore and Lorenzo

He moved to the head of the couch, whispering something to Theodore. I hadn't even realized I was staring until I caught Julian's gaze fixed on him too. Frustration bubbled within me, but I tried to divert my attention elsewhere, reminding myself that he was just someone I barely knew. He couldn't possibly be the boy from my dreams, my comfort zone—the one I always sought solace with. I needed to stop before I completely lose my mind

"you guys are coming with us to the beach party at the fair tomorrow right ?" Julian inquired, but her eyes were fixed solely on Mattheo as she posed the question for all of them.

“ I didn’t know we were going “ I said casting a perplexed glance in her direction, a strange sensation swirling within me.

"We do go every year," I wanted to retort, but I bit my tongue instead, refraining from pointing out that it was only her second visit to the place.

"Sure," Theodore replied, and I tried to push aside the internal conflict brewing within me.

"I think we should have a movie night instead," Sarah suggested. I sensed her intention behind the suggestion—to give me an out—and I felt safe to have her by my side I loathed the feeling it invoked. My frustration mounted, directed both at the situation and at Julian for orchestrating it. Despite my inner turmoil, I couldn't resist speaking up.

With a forced smile, I replied, "I actually think going to the fair party sounds like fun, Sarah."

Tag list :

@hereticdance

[blessed-by-umbral]

Violence

@daily-writing-challenge

Topic: Violence

---

Weeks had gracefully slipped by since Baetylus embarked on its voyage to the enchanting shores of Tural, and now, four days had passed since the intimidating vessel had anchored in this unfamiliar haven. The air was thick with the scent of adventure and the promise of discovery, a curious juxtaposition that enveloped Ondrea Cress in a cocoon of anticipation. The strangeness of being enveloped by the unknown was not a source of trepidation for her; rather, it was a vital embrace, a welcoming that whispered of new beginnings and uncharted paths waiting to be trekked.

The passage of time had woven a tapestry of curiosity as the allure of uncharted lands beckoned from the shadows of the past. Those privy to the secrets of the sea had embarked on a meticulous endeavor, crafting maps and devising plans for their ambitious voyages. Yet, for Ondrea, this pursuit appeared to be a futile exercise, akin to embarking on a grand expedition without the slightest hint of direction or guidance. It was only when a reliable course was presented to them, a beacon of certainty amidst the vast unknown, that they finally set their sails toward the horizon.

On this afternoon, the sun reigned supreme, casting its golden rays upon a canvas of immaculate azure. The heavens were devoid of any clouds, creating a breathtaking expanse that seemed to stretch endlessly. Yet, in the depths of her heart, she harbored a profound disdain for the sun. The relentless heat was an unwelcome companion, transforming her midnight tresses into a sweltering burden, while the sensation of her leather attire clinging to her skin felt akin to a serpent ensnaring its unsuspecting victim.

The accoutrements of freshly squeezed fruit juices was a welcome reprieve, as a particular concoction of citrus we dutifully set upon a table before an open window overlooking a breathtaking view of the lush greenery interspersed with the architectural elegance of the nearby buildings.

As the echo of a knock reverberated through her space, it disrupted the serene equilibrium she had cultivated, drawing her attention with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. Ondrea's signature style, a blend of shadowy hues and intricate textures, spoke volumes about her character; she embraced the darkness not merely as a fashion statement but as a shield against the world’s judgments. The aura of mystery that enveloped her was both a source of intrigue and trepidation, ensuring that she remained an enigmatic figure, cloaked in the very essence of her chosen attire

As Ondrea opened the door, she was greeted by a visage that resonated deeply within the annals of her family. Cormac, a steadfast presence since his youth, stood before her clad in his signature ensemble—sleek, armored leather adorned with a distinctive bell sigil prominently displayed on his chest. This emblem, a testament to his unwavering loyalty and dedication, seemed to shimmer in the soft light.

It was evident that Cormac had taken the time to present himself with an air of refinement, embodying a sense of readiness for the day ahead. His hair, meticulously groomed and freshly washed, framed his face, which bore the marks of a recent shave.

Ondrea couldn't help but notice the subtle yet inviting scent of coconut that lingered around him, a fragrant whisper of tropical allure that seemed to complement his polished demeanor.

"My Lady." He addressed with a bow of his head. "All men are accounted for. Our ships are docked and being tended to as we speak. It's been recommended that we tip the service crew. I wanted to get your input."

Ondrea retreated a step, extending an invitation to Cormac as he entered her sanctuary. In stark contrast to his presence, the air within her abode was devoid of the exotic fragrances that characterized this new land; instead, she had meticulously chosen to fill her space with the familiar aromas of incense, carefully selected from her homeland. The delicate tendrils of smoke curled upward, weaving a tapestry of nostalgia that enveloped her, reminding her of of home.

Though she found herself amidst the unfamiliar, the longing for the essence of home lingered in whatever vestiges were left in her heart.

"Extend to them a generous gratuity, one that would comfortably sustain their needs for the forthcoming weeks. Should their circumstances demand further assistance, we shall delve into our reserves to accommodate their requests."

Cormac acknowledged the suggestion with a subtle nod, his gaze drifting toward the window. The vibrant calls of exotic birds echoed in the distance, their persistent cries resonating like a siren song, beckoning him to embrace the allure of this uncharted territory.

"-We've gotten word from some of the locals regarding some concerning news. Like many lands, they're wrought with bandits, enemies, those who would seek you out to cause you harm or your family harm simply because of your status. These warnings you're familiar with. I ask you now, Lady Cress---how would you like to proceed if met with violence?"

The interval stretched between them, enveloped in an almost palpable silence that seemed to linger in the air. In this serene yet charged moment, the only sounds that penetrated the stillness were the distant echoes of the bustling city below, a symphony of urban life, harmonizing with the sharp cries of seabirds soaring overhead.

"My father once said: "Violent excitement exhausts the mind and leaves it withered and sterile." I find it ironic, considering the means this House has taken in its past. Perhaps, in some way, he sought to extinguish that flame."

She paused without contemplation, but more so for effect. "Our words are "Light your candles". Keep them lit, guide the dead home, tolling of the bells--all that history you're intimately familiar with."

"Aye." Cormac affirmed.

"To preserve equilibrium in our interactions, it is essential to respond to hostility with an equally assertive stance. Those who seek to embody this principle to its utmost will find themselves confronted with a response that is magnified tenfold, ensuring that the scales of power remain justly aligned. This approach not only safeguards our interests but also serves as a testament to our unwavering commitment to resilience in the face of adversity."

Cormac found himself unable to divert his gaze from Ondrea's striking visage, captivated by the intensity that radiated from her. It was no revelation to him that her response would carry such weight; in fact, he had secretly wished for the tempest of turmoil that raged within her to find some semblance of calm.

Yet, he recognized the futility of such hopes, as the storm seemed to only grow more ferocious with each passing moment. She stood before him, a living testament to the void, and he could almost perceive the dark tendrils of it wrapping themselves around her very essence. Despite the overwhelming nature of the situation, he felt an unyielding determination to engage with her, to reach through the shadows that enveloped her.

"Might it be possible..." he ventured cautiously, "...that extending a measure of mercy could yield positive outcomes? We are in uncharted territories, after all, filled with diverse cultures and unfamiliar customs."

Ondrea's response was immediate, her thickly shaped brow arching in skepticism as a low, dark chuckle escaped her lips, reverberating with a chilling resonance.

"Do you truly think they would entertain such notions about us?" she retorted, her voice laced with a steely resolve. "I refuse to gamble with the safety of our people."

Cormac drew in a deep breath, savoring it before exhaling sharply through his nostrils. "So be it. Violence will be met with violence."

[grumpyoldfker]

Haze

"Old warrior, lay down thy helm, thy sword, thy shield. The world has taken its fill of thee. Thy spirit is weary... thy strength spent. Close thine eyes, and let darkness be thy weapon, thy armor."

Adonis blinked, his vision blurred as morning light poured through the glass windows of his chamber. The weight of blanket and sheet pressed down on him, soft to the touch yet stifling, as though the very air conspired to keep him bound.

"You snore like an old warthog, you know that? Get up—the children are already asking for us."

The voice carried a playful rebuke, tinged with an indomitable strength born of love and endurance. A laugh, bright and familiar, followed the words before fading into silence. His hand reached instinctively toward the sound, searching for its source, only to grasp at emptiness.

With a low groan, he pushed against the mattress, his body yielding a chorus of dull aches—shoulders tight, legs heavy. He paused, head bowed, hair cascading to shield his face, granting a fleeting reprieve from the unrelenting march of the day. Time seemed a blur—was it morning? Noon? Did the sun deceive him, heralding dusk instead?

The doors opened, and servants streamed in with practiced efficiency. Without thought, Adonis rose, moving to the spot he occupied each morning. They worked quickly, strapping on armor piece by piece. Steel encased his flesh, rendering him a relic—a warrior prepared not for battle, but for routine.

His gaze wandered to the window, half-expecting plumes of smoke or the acrid tang of brimstone to taint the horizon. Yet the view beyond was tranquil: trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves shimmering with golden light.

When the last strap was secured, the servants withdrew, leaving him alone once more. He flexed his arms, feeling the stiffness in his joints, the armor a cage as much as a shield. Still, he moved forward, defying the creeping infirmity that clung to him like an unseen adversary.

In the hall, his steps echoed softly as he made his way to the study. The familiar doors creaked open and closed behind him. He approached the chair that had become his perch, day after day, and sank into it, eyes drawn to the expanse of land stretching beyond the estate.

"Old warrior. Sitting upon thy throne. Staring into root, tree, and stone. Thy shoulders bear an unbearable weight. Thy armor, an anchor. How much longer will thou clutch this burdensome crutch?"

The sunlight, fierce and unyielding, pierced his half-lidded gaze. His mind wandered, slipping away from the stillness of the study into a battlefield painted with chaos.

The cries of the wounded mingled with the clash of steel and the relentless rhythm of war drums. Blood soaked the earth, its tang sharp in the air. Amidst the turmoil, Adonis saw himself—not leading, not fighting, but sitting still, his form sagging under invisible chains.

Tired. Weighed down. Alone.

@daily-writing-challenge

[jadegretz]

Sorceress: Defender of Grayskull by Jade Gretz

The Astral Abyss

The Sorceress of Grayskull stood at the precipice of reality, a cosmic precipice where the tangible world dissolved into the ethereal. The Astral Plane, a realm of infinite possibilities and unimaginable horrors, stretched before her, a cosmic ocean teeming with celestial currents and nebulous entities.

Her heart, a beacon of courage and wisdom, pulsed with a sense of dread. A cosmic alignment was imminent, a convergence of celestial bodies that threatened to tear the fabric of reality asunder. If the cataclysm occurred, not only Eternia would be consumed, but the entire cosmos.

Cloaked in the shimmering aura of her power, she stepped into the void, her spirit a solitary vessel navigating the cosmic tempest. The Astral Plane was a labyrinth of light and shadow, a place where logic and reason were exiled. Here, the mind was the only compass, and the soul the only anchor.

As she delved deeper into the Astral, the environment grew increasingly hostile. Malevolent entities, born from the primordial chaos, lurked in the shadows, their essence as corrosive as acid. These cosmic horrors, devoid of form or reason, were drawn to her light, their hunger for destruction insatiable.

The Sorceress fought with the ferocity of a cosmic storm, her magic a weapon of blinding brilliance. She conjured shields of starlight to deflect the attacks of the cosmic horrors, while her mind, a fortress of unwavering will, resisted their psychic onslaught. The battle was a symphony of cosmic forces, a clash of light and darkness that echoed through the infinite expanse.

As she journeyed deeper into the Astral, the landscape transformed. The once chaotic expanse gave way to a crystalline void, a place of eerie silence and profound isolation. Here, the cosmic alignment was taking shape, a malevolent star, a harbinger of destruction, growing in power.

A sense of urgency consumed her. The star was a cosmic anomaly, a wound in the fabric of reality. If it were allowed to fully manifest, it would become a black hole, devouring everything in its path. Time was running out. …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[beardedmrbean]

According to the American IT giant, the hacker attack took place in early December and underscored “the fast and significant expansion in the scope of Iranian operations since the start of the Israel-Hamas conflict”.

The fake news broadcast focused on Israel’s operations in Gaza and was accompanied by a banner that read: “We have no choice but to hack to deliver this message to you."

The AI news anchor then went on to present graphic – and unverified images – of Palestinians, including women and children, allegedly killed or injured by Israeli forces in Gaza.

"I was watching BBC News around 10.30 pm when the programme was abruptly disrupted, and instead, harrowing visuals from Palestine appeared on my screen. I watched transfixed as my screen froze, and a message from the hacker popped up in all caps against a green background. This was immediately followed by a news bulletin presented by an AI anchor. It was surreal and scary," a Dubai resident told Khaleej Times.

Another user interviewed by the same newspaper recounted how she was unable to shield her children from the graphic images that suddenly popped up on the TV screen.

“Every channel we switched to displayed the same content," she said.

In its February 8 report, Microsoft's Threat Analysis Centre (MTAC) said the disruption had also reached audiences in Britain and Canada.

MTAC attributed the attack to Cotton Sandstorm – a group it has previously identified as “an Iranian state actor sanctioned by the US Treasury Department for their attempts to undermine the integrity of the 2020 US presidential elections”.

AI ‘a key component’

Microsoft said the group, which labelled itself “For Humanity” during the operation, had published videos on the Telegram messaging app, showing how it had hacked into three online streaming services and disrupted “several news channels” with the fake AI broadcast.

It added it was “the first Iranian influence operation Microsoft has detected where AI played a key component in its messaging”.

Since the start of the war, Microsoft said it had noted collaboration between groups affiliated with Iran and, in particular, between a group linked to Iran’s intelligence and security ministry and “Hezbollah cyber units”.

Fabrice Popineau, an AI specialist who lectures and conducts research at France’s prestigious engineering school CentraleSupélec, said the attack was quite a feat. “The achievement is not so much the production of an AI-generated news broadcast, but the fact that they managed to insert it in the right place,” he said.

Nicolas Arpagian, vice-president of cybersecurity firm HeadMind Partners, also pointed to the technical aspect of how the group had attacked the streaming services.

"The cyber attack did not directly target the television channels but the operators of them, not the sender but the receiver," he explained.

According to Arpagian, these type of attacks – in which graphic photos and videos are displayed – fall under a special propaganda category known as “agit-prop”, aiming to spark an emotional reaction and political agitation.   

"As soon as you have people feeling it, experiencing it in their homes, in their privacy, the goal is achieved,” he said.

Surge in Iranian cyber attacks

Iran’s upswing in hackings and influence campaigns highlights the regime’s desire to show that it can attack anywhere, anytime. Microsoft said that while it had tracked only nine Iranian-linked groups active in Israel in the first week of the war, this number had grown to as many as 14 just two weeks into the conflict.

It also said that Iranian cyber influence operations had skyrocketed from around one operation “every other month” in 2021, to 11 in October, 2023, alone.

In November last year, these Iran-backed groups also started to extend their attacks beyond Israel to include Israeli allies. Among the targets were a handful of small town water utilities in the United States, including in Pennsylvania, where stunned staff at the Aliquippa water authority discovered that their industrial control device had been hacked. A message on the device screen read: “You have been hacked. Down with Israel. Every equipment ‘made in Israel’ is Cyber Avengers’ legal target.” The Cyber Avengers is affiliated to Iran’s Revolutionary Guards, which is a key branch of the country’s armed forces.

This particular attack was remarkable in the sense that it targeted Programmable Logic Controllers (PLCs), which are commonly used in factory automation processes, including robotised machines and assembly line devices. Such attacks can therefore heavily disrupt operations, and, depending on the industry affected, cause major damage.

US police have opened an investigation into the attack.

[echoesofher]

In the quiet corners of solitude, I find myself—an intricate mosaic of experiences, emotions, and whispers of resilience. A journey unfolds within, a tapestry woven with threads of self-discovery, each strand a testament to the symphony that is uniquely, undeniably me.

In the mirror's reflection, I witness the canvas of my existence, not seeking perfection but embracing the beauty in imperfection. There, in the quiet gaze of self-acceptance, I discover the profound artistry etched into the lines of my face, the tales of laughter, and the echoes of tears that echo the chapters of my narrative.

Self-love, an evolving landscape, isn't a destination but a pilgrimage within. It's the gentle touch of compassion that I extend to my own vulnerabilities, the acceptance of scars that map the terrain of my resilience. Like a phoenix rising from ashes, I acknowledge the battles I've faced and the strength that resides within the echoes of survival.

It's an unspoken covenant with my own heart, a promise to honor the echoes of my desires and dreams. Through the storms of doubt and the calm of self-discovery, I learn to befriend the echo of my own heartbeat, a rhythm that orchestrates a dance of authenticity.

In the sacred silence, I unwrap the layers of societal expectations, peeling away the masks that were never mine. I stand bare, not in vulnerability but in strength, for self-love is the armor that shields against the arrows of self-doubt.

It's a celebration of my own complexity, an acknowledgment that I am a constellation of contradictions, a kaleidoscope of emotions. Like a garden tended with care, I nourish the seeds of self-compassion, allowing them to bloom into the vibrant flowers of self-love.

Through the ebb and flow of life's uncertainties, I become my own anchor, grounding myself in the essence of who I am. I choose to be the protagonist of my own narrative, embracing the pen that writes the chapters of my self-love story.

So, in the quietude of self-reflection, I find not a destination but a perpetual journey—a journey of self-love, where every step is a dance, every stumble is a lesson, and every heartbeat is a reminder that within the vast expanse of my own existence, I am enough.

[sixbucks]

Making Arkansas worse again

By Austin Bailey, Lindsey Millar, Arkansas Times, April 23, 2023

With the 2023 legislative session blessedly at its end, Arkansas progressives (plus moderates and anyone to the left of the Proud Boys) know what complete and utter political defeat looks like. It’s this: tax cuts for the wealthy and out-of-state investors, even as children in the state go hungry; universal vouchers to subsidize wealthy families’ private school tuitions while denigrating and defunding the traditional public schools that educate the masses; no budging on a near-total abortion ban, not even for victims of incest or women carrying fetuses destined to die before birth or to suffer for only a few torturous hours beyond it; a barrage of new laws that do nothing but hammer home the message that transgender Arkansans are not welcome and will not be accommodated.

Supercharged by a mountain of MAGA money and an even bigger ego, Gov. Sarah Sanders called all the shots. The supermajority Republican legislature raced to do her bidding. Their rubber stamp on all of Sanders’ priorities (vouchers, prison expansion, tax cuts) marked a vast departure from the last administration, when Asa Hutchinson’s pro-gun, pro-life record failed to impress an increasingly insane right-wing extremist legislative branch. Where Hutchinson recoiled from drama, Sanders pursued it, eager to throw Trumpian blows of staggering cruelty if it landed her on Fox News. Her foot soldiers didn’t seem to mind Sanders’ obvious bid to get out of Arkansas and back on the national stage as soon as possible. It wouldn’t have mattered if they did. Republican lawmakers knew to expect a primary challenger to knock them out of office if they dared veer out of lockstep.

Saying it’s the worst session ever feels trite, too flip to capture the brutality heaped on all but the wealthiest and most insulated. Not only did lawmakers do nothing to protect Arkansans from our chart-topping gun death rates, they voted instead to protect the gun companies from us. A new law passed this session bars state entities from investing with firms that eschew the industry profiting off our homicide epidemic. Protecting children got lots of lip service, but no real action. Requiring proof of age and identity to get a social media account or view online porn, laws passed allegedly to protect kids, will be a boon for identity theft but won’t likely shield many innocent eyes. Threatening librarians with jail time if they allow young people to view or check out books about sex is not only a direct assault on free speech, but also a surefire way to maintain Arkansas’s spot as the state with the most teen pregnancies.

Protecting kids was not a priority when lawmakers opted to sacrifice children to quell the labor shortage. The 94th General Assembly did away with a work permit requirement for 14- and 15-year-olds, meaning children can now get a job without their parents having to sign off and without any government oversight to make sure working conditions and hours are safe and appropriate.

Arkansas’s wealthy and its businesses are safer than ever, having easily secured tax cuts by simply pointing fingers at transgender children and woke librarians, then grabbing the cash when no one was looking. Most of us didn’t get much of anything beyond the insult that the schools we send our children to — schools that anchor our communities — are hotbeds of inadequacy and indoctrination that anyone with the means should flee at their first opportunity. Is this really what Arkansas voted for?

CULTURE WARS

The Arkansas Capitol grounds will soon get a “monument to the unborn” thanks to a new law sponsored by Sen. Kim Hammer (R-Benton) and Rep. Mary Bentley (R-Perryville), which allows for private funds to pay for a monument dedicated to the embryos aborted when women still had bodily autonomy in Arkansas. Bentley promised the design would be “something beautifully done to honor precious children.” Several Republican opponents of abortion pushed back on the proposal, with one suggesting it had “the look and feel of spiking the football.” Rep. Cindy Crawford (R-Fort Smith), always ready with a comment so inane you wonder if you’re hearing things right, suggested we call on slaves for wisdom and guidance here. “You can ask slaves what happens when we forget. We have to remember slavery in America so it won’t come back. We have to remember abortion in Arkansas so it won’t come back. There’s no reason why we can’t have a monument. It’s not a poke in the eye; it’s a ‘God forgive us for what we have done.’ ”

DEES IS NUTS: Siloam Springs Sen. Tyler Dees (right) passed laws requiring Arkansans to show ID to watch porn and create social media accounts.

In other culture war news, Arkansas will be the first state in the country to require users to show ID to create new social media accounts. Senate Bill 396, sponsored by Sen. Tyler Dees (R-Siloam Springs) and championed by the governor, will require social media companies to contract with third-party companies to perform age verification on new users. Those younger than 18 won’t be able to register for an account on the platforms without parents’ permission. How all that will work remains unclear. Dees repeatedly referenced Idemia, a third-party verifier based in France, as a good actor.

This legislature has done a lot of things that make little sense, but in the same breath that lawmakers talk about the national security concerns TikTok poses, they want Arkansans to give sensitive personal information to a foreign company?

Many legislators were told that Meta, the parent company of Facebook and Instagram, believes that there’s no way to comply with the law. The way it’s written, a private citizen can bring a legal claim against a social media company if their child gets an account without parental permission, but the soon-to-be law also forces third-party verifiers to delete personal information. So how could the social media company defend itself?

Dees also sponsored another similar new law that will require Arkansas residents to show ID to visit pornography websites. Let’s hope no one tells these guys how easy it is to pay $5 a month for VPN access to mask your location, thereby bypassing all of this nonsense.

The economic cost of culture wars became briefly quantifiable during debate over a new law to require all state entities to divest from holdings with financial providers who consider ESG — environmental, social and governance — factors. It was sponsored by Rep. Jeff Wardlaw (R-Hermitage) and Sen. Ricky Hill (R-Cabot) and based on a model from the American Legislative Exchange Council, the Koch-funded right-wing bill factory. It’s also part of an increasingly activist turn for right-wing state treasurers, including Arkansas Treasurer Mark Lowery. Called the State Financial Officers Foundation, Lowery’s group aims to wield the power of the state to protect polluters from those forces attempting to save humanity by stopping climate change. Sure, the planet will die sooner if Lowery and his ilk succeed and states will sacrifice investment dollars for this newest version of corporate welfare, but the rich guys will go out on top. Similar laws have cost other states millions of dollars.

The same sponsors also pushed through related legislation that requires all state contractors to pledge that they won’t boycott energy, fossil fuel, firearms or ammunition industries. After the bill was introduced, Arkansas Times publisher Alan Leveritt wrote a slightly tongue-in-cheek op-ed pledging to continue the Times’ long-standing policy of boycotting gun and fossil fuel industries by keeping our money in the bank. The new act is based on an existing law that requires contractors to pledge not to boycott Israel. The Times has refused to sign that pledge and unsuccessfully challenged its constitutionality in the federal court system.

VOTING

Republican lawmakers hate that the Arkansas Constitution gives citizens the ability to propose laws and constitutional amendments for consideration on the ballot. The legislature tried to curb that power by referring to voters a constitutional amendment in 2020 that would have raised the threshold required to make the ballot, and another one in 2022 that would have required 60% of voters to approve constitutional amendments for them to pass. Both proposals failed handily with voters, who recognized these amendments for what they were: a power grab by legislators to weaken the power of the people.

Unfettered, this session Republicans passed a clearly unconstitutional new law that increases the number of counties from which signatures for a ballot initiative or constitutional amendment must be submitted, upping that number from 15 to 50. The state Constitution specifically says “at least 15 counties,” which merely sets the floor required, sponsor Sen. Jim Dotson (R-Bentonville) said. Just like many other things that are silent in the constitution, here the legislature can step in and make laws, he argued.

But Sen. Clarke Tucker (D-Little Rock), who should have been paid by the hour for all the legal advice he was forced to dispense to his know-nothing colleagues, said he believed this was among the most blatantly unconstitutional bills he’d ever seen during his time in the ledge, including bills that were inviting constitutional challenges. The “at least 15 counties” language in the Constitution clearly means that “you don’t have to stop at 15” when gathering signatures. He also noted that while Dotson is correct that when the Constitution is silent, the legislature can make laws, in this case, Article 5, Section 1 of the Constitution explicitly says that unwarranted restrictions are prohibited.

Other anti-democracy bills aimed to make voting less convenient and less comfortable in hopes of convincing more people to give up on the American experiment entirely. “Election integrity” is code for “voter suppression,” and Arkansas Republicans touted election integrity all over the place as they carried on with their years-long campaign to make it harder to get your ballot counted.

Act 544 by Rep. Austin McCollum (R-Bentonville) and Sen. Jim Petty (R-Van Buren) creates a so-called election integrity unit within the attorney general’s office to further police the polls, adding new layers of red tape and intimidation. Because the AG is a partisan official, the measure further politicizes the management of our elections and delivers another unfair advantage to Republicans, who are quite skilled at using their power to keep challengers at bay.

Arkansas lawmakers also pushed some cookie-cutter legislation crafted by out-of-state groups as part of their ongoing “stop the steal” disinformation campaign. Sen. Tyler Dees (R-Siloam Springs) carried the water on a bill outlawing ballot collection boxes in Arkansas, just in case anybody ever thinks about putting one up. We don’t have them here, even though they’ve worked well in other states. National voter suppression groups shopped the same bill to outlaw ballot collection boxes in South Dakota, Virginia, Ohio, Kansas and Arizona. Absentee voters routinely send ballots through the mail, and Dees was unable to answer questions about how ballot drop boxes were more susceptible to fraud than the U.S. Postal Service. His bill passed into law anyway.

MOTHERS AND BABIES

With a near-total abortion ban in place after the U.S. Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision in 2022, women in Arkansas find themselves in even worse shape than before. Arkansas had the highest maternal mortality rate of any state before the ban, and without access to abortion care, more women stand to suffer and die.

Amazingly, Arkansas lawmakers failed to come through on the paltry handful of small-potatoes bills that aimed to help keep mothers and babies alive and healthy. Most of these measures are low-hanging fruit and already standard practice in other states. But the Republican supermajority at the Arkansas Capitol failed to make maternal health a priority, dedicating their time instead to heaping shame on public school teachers and transgender children.

A plan to add Arkansas to the list of states that provide Medicaid for new mothers for a full year after birth went nowhere. Thirty-two states plus Washington, D.C., already tap into federal dollars to help make sure new moms with scant financial resources are covered through that tumultuous year after pregnancy and birth. Ten more states have plans in the works to extend coverage beyond the minimum 60 days federal law requires. If any state needs to add this tool to its arsenal, it’s us. Arkansas is the most dangerous state in the country for expectant women, with high poverty rates and an undeniable need for more support for new moms. Rep. Aaron Pilkington (R-Knoxville) sponsored the bill to extend Medicaid coverage for new mothers, but the committee never even bothered to take it up. Aptly enough, this change that would cost less than $2 million and would definitely save lives got no attention from lawmakers and was left to die in committee. That $2 million savings the state will realize by letting new mothers’ health coverage lapse is enough to offset only a drop in the bucket of tax breaks legislators granted to the wealthy this session.

Women carrying fetuses cursed to suffer and die got a similar F.U. from Arkansas lawmakers this session. Rep. Nicole Clowney (D-Fayetteville) represented the will of the majority of Arkansans who, polls show, support exemptions to Arkansas’s near-total abortion ban. Her effort to change the law to reflect Arkansas’s wishes tanked in the face of bullying from the Christian soldiers who claim to know what is best for everyone. Women carrying a fetus that will die before birth or suffer for a few hours or days before dying after birth will still have no choice but to carry the baby to term.

Rep. Ashley Hudson (D-Little Rock) mounted a similar failing effort with a bill to let women who become pregnant through rape or incest access abortion. In this post-apocalyptic wasteland of reproductive rights, it’s unclear whether we should consider it a small victory or an utter defeat that Hudson did get one pregnancy-related bill passed. Her House Bill 1161 ensuring the school days teenagers miss to have babies count as excused absences is now signed into law.

EDUCATION

The Arkansas LEARNS universal voucher bill to sacrifice Arkansas students and communities at the altar of right-wing ideology might or might not be the biggest travesty of the session, but it’s likely the one whose harm will spread the farthest, the fastest. A Waltonite lobbyist’s dream of a law based on the demonstrably false premise that the school choice tide will raise all schools’ boats, Arkansas LEARNS will subsidize the private school tuition payments of wealthy families at the expense of traditional public schools that serve all students. By giving parents with the time, money and know-how enough public cash to get their children into private schools and away from us riffraff, the state’s new universal voucher program will send us back to Arkansas’s shameful days of segregated classrooms.

LEARNS WILL LEAD TO SEGREGATION: But Republican lawmakers, who with few exceptions supported the omnibus bill, don’t care.

But it’s not all bad. Arkansas LEARNS’ high points include a minimum $50,000-a-year salary for every public school teacher in Arkansas, and $2,000 raises for educators already over $50K. That’s where they leave you, though. LEARNS repeals the state salary schedule which, to be fair, was almost wholly under the $50K mark, anyway. But now, without state-funded step increases, only districts with tax bases robust enough to foot the bill will be able to give annual raises based on service and education. The state will fund some merit-based bonuses instead, but there’s not much cash set aside for this, not even enough for a single teacher at every Arkansas public school to earn the maximum $10,000 bonus. It will be difficult for poorer districts to entice teachers into a career with no real prospects of a raise, ever.

Plenty of educators applaud the literacy component of Arkansas LEARNS, but bristle at the characterization that the state’s third-grade literacy rates indicate “we have failed our children.” Only 35% of Arkansas third-graders are proficient readers. In Massachusetts, the top state for third-grade literacy, 44% score as proficient or higher. Arkansas LEARNS calls for third-graders in public schools to be held back until they can reach reading proficiency (or until they transfer to a private school or homeschool with no such requirement).

To improve literacy, Arkansas LEARNS includes plans for more reading coaches, plus some money for tutoring programs. Not enough, but some.

The rest of the 144-page bill has less to like. Arkansas hasn’t gone in for these gigantic, all-in-one, D.C.-style omnibus bills in sessions past, and for good reason. I like 60-70% of the bill, Sen. Greg Leding (D-Fayetteville) said, but a cheeseburger that’s 30% poison is still a bad cheeseburger.

Leding was being generous with his percentages. Some consider the repeal of the Fair Teacher Dismissal Act that protected teachers from petty, political or personal retribution to be the poison pill that makes LEARNS simply untenable. For others, the “don’t say gay” component forbidding teachers to acknowledge the existence of anyone not straight and cisgender until middle school is enough to tank the whole deal. Or maybe sending public money to fund private schools that are by definition exclusionary and unaccountable is the arsenic in the well.

The vast majority of vouchers in states with universal voucher programs like the one codified in Arkansas LEARNS goes to families who were already paying their own private school tuitions just fine but certainly aren’t going to turn down a windfall.

Only the kids at the bottom of that system will be saddled with a new graduation requirement that sounds a lot like the criminal sentence for a first-time DWI offense. With the passage of LEARNS, all public school students will have to put in 75 hours of community service to graduate. Proponents argue that 75 will be easy because high school students can answer phones in the school office or provide unpaid, coerced labor to small businesses. Not surprisingly, private school students are exempt from such requirements, meaning their spring break ski trips and horseback riding lessons are safe from any interruption. Any student who takes a LEARNS voucher but fails to meet the new private school’s academic expectations can get kicked out of not just the school, but the voucher program entirely. Crafters of this bill determined the rightful consequence for such a lapse is a return to public schools, which don’t have the option of booting poor performers. It’s barbs like this one that suggest attending public schools is a punishment, along with LEARNS sponsors’ oddly venomous accusations that public school teachers are indoctrinators and liars, that make lead sponsor Sen. Breanne Davis’ (R-Russellville)pledges that she has teachers’ backs ring hollow. Scheduling the Senate’s only public hearing on the bill for a school day, then joining Sanders staffers in attacking teachers for taking a day off to be there to testify, felt shady, too.

It’s notable that the educators who stand to earn sizable raises are the plan’s most outspoken opponents. During the two marathon days of public comment on the bill, only three of the dozens of public school educators who gave testimony were there in support. A coalition of teachers and other public education supporters are attempting to repeal the LEARNS Act by referendum; others are planning legal challenges.

The Marvell-Elaine School District became the first led into a privatization scheme under LEARNS. Trapped between consolidating with another district because of its low enrollment numbers or going under state control because of low scores, the district is now the first to choose door number three, making plans to hand over the reins to a yet-unnamed outside entity.

Will Marvell-Elaine ever get the district back into local hands? Sen. Clarke Tucker (D-Little Rock) and Rep. Vivian Flowers (D-Pine Bluff), both of whose home school districts have fallen victim to state takeover, scored the rare moderate win this session with the commonsense Senate Bill 364. Now Act 633, the measure limits the time the state can keep their hold on districts to a firm five years before releasing them back into a local school board’s hands. What about Marvell-Elaine, though? Does the new legislation apply here, or can the charter company stay in charge? Florida man and Arkansas Education Secretary Jacob Oliva suggested such questions are now a matter of local control.

LEARNS WILL LEAD TO SEGREGATION: But Republican lawmakers, who with few exceptions supported the omnibus bill, don’t care.

LGBTQ+

The church lady caucus came in hot for the 2023 session, gunning to protect innocent eyes from lewd and lascivious drag shows. Republican morality police duo Rep. Mary Bentley of Perryville and Sen. Gary Stubblefield of Branch humiliated themselves with their sophomoric stabs at drag shows that almost certainly never happened. Bentley claimed a good Christian family asked for her help after seeing a drag queen wield a dildo as a microphone during a parade. Stubblefield claimed it was a drag queen who implored him most passionately to save the children from all the jumping up and gyrating that goes on at drag shows.

Of course, drag is a form of artistic expression that spans cultures and centuries, and our Constitution protects it. A legal case against the original drag show ban bill would have been a slam dunk. Bentley’s and Stubblefield’s attempts to regulate drag shows like they were peep shows or porn shops was eventually so watered down that it does nothing at all.

Still, LGBTQ+ Arkansans and the people who love them took plenty of hits this session. As we await a ruling from U.S. District Judge James Moody on a challenge to the 2021 ban on medical gender-affirming care for Arkansas youth, legislators hedged their bets by piling on more impediments. Lawmakers passed a bill that adds new restrictions on access to gender-affirming care for people under 18 and creates debilitating malpractice liabilities for any medical providers involved.

Pegging bathroom bills as the nonsensical economy killers they are, the Arkansas business community saved us from such legislation in the past. They dropped the ball this year, though, sticking Arkansas with two humiliating hate laws targeting any trans person who happens to be in Arkansas when nature calls. A bill that would have made it a sex crime for a transgender person to be in a bathroom when anyone under 18 was also present nearly passed, but a commonsense suggestion added at the last minute — on the suggestion of a dad of a transgender youth — adds the caveat that the adult in this situation would have to be in the bathroom for the purpose of sexual gratification. The law passed, which is redundant since peeping tom and sexual assault laws are already on the books. Transgender kids’ bathroom habits also got a creepy amount of attention from lawmakers. Arkansas’s public school educators will now have to police bathrooms lest a trans person uses the facilities corresponding with his/her/their gender.

And speaking of pronouns, it’s probably best that we find a way to work around them entirely, as Rep. Wayne Long (R-Bradford) was successful in passing his Given Name Act. A plug-and-play piece of legislation crafted by the anti-trans hate group Alliance Defending Freedom, this new law that right-wingers are shopping to red legislatures across the country polices what teachers can and cannot call their students. A signed permission slip from parents will be required before teachers can show their students the respect of using preferred names and pronouns.

TAXES

Same song, new verse: Lawmakers passed yet another tax cut that overwhelmingly benefits the wealthy, which Sanders has framed as a first step toward eliminating the income tax altogether. Retroactive to Jan. 1, the state’s top income tax rate will drop from 4.9% to 4.7%, which follows a steep reduction of the top rate — from 5.5% to 4.9% — by the legislature in a 2022 special session. Under the new plan, the top corporate tax rate would drop from 5.3% to 5.1%. Combined, the cuts will reduce state revenue by an estimated $124 million per year.

RICH GET RICHER: Gov. Sarah Sanders, House Speaker Matthew Shepherd (left) and Sen. Jonathan Dismang pushed through another tax break for wealthy Arkansans and out-of-state corporate shareholders.

The Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy estimates 80% of the benefits of the income tax cut will go to the top 20% of earners and that $20 million of the $24 million corporate tax cut will go to out-of-state shareholders.

The legislature also approved a phase-out of the state’s “throwback rule,” which required sales that multistate corporations based in Arkansas make in other states or to the federal government that aren’t taxable to be “thrown back” to Arkansas for tax purposes. The change will ultimately reduce state revenue by $74 million in fiscal year 2030 and beyond.

That $74 million would have been more than enough to cover free school lunches for every student in the state and a full year of Medicaid coverage after birth to ensure the health of new mothers, and we would still have tens of millions to spare. It’s all about priorities, and in Arkansas, corporate profits for out-of-state investors trump the wellbeing of our own mothers and children.

CRIME AND PRISON

Arkansas already has one of the highest incarceration rates in the world, and it’s not working: The state also has one of the country’s highest crime rates. But solving difficult problems has never been in modern Arkansas Republicans’ wheelhouse. So while the likes of Texas and Oklahoma are embracing economically and ethically wise reform to reduce their prison populations, Arkansas plans to build a new nearly-half-billion-dollar prison and keep offenders locked up longer. The “Protect Arkansas Act,” sponsored by Sen. Ben Gilmore (R-Crossett) and Rep. Jimmy Gazaway (R-Paragould) and crafted with heavy input by Attorney General Tim Griffin, will eliminate parole for the most serious felonies and require those who commit other serious crimes to serve 85% of their sentence.

Sanders and Griffin said that the new prison would allow county jails, which for years have housed overflow state prisoners, to go back to serving local communities. Griffin said misdemeanor justice had been effectively removed from the state criminal code because of the county jail backup, but now we will have room to lock up the scofflaws once again.

“I was going to Chick-fil-A the other day,” Griffin said at a press conference announcing the plans, “and there were people riding wheelies on dirt bikes — and I love dirt bikes — riding wheelies on dirt bikes that aren’t street legal with no helmets … If you think you’re going to get jobs to come to this state with that kind of nonsense going on, you’re sadly mistaken.”

ENERGY

Arkansas’s booming solar industry will see a slowdown thanks to a new law. Senate Bill 295, sponsored by Sen. Jonathan Dismang (R-Searcy) and Rep. Lanny Fite (R-Benton), will end Arkansas’s one-to-one net-metering policy, where customers who generate electricity, usually with solar arrays, get credited at the full retail rate for any excess power they generate. Instead, solar customers would only get credited for the wholesale rate. The difference today would amount to about 5 cents per kilowatt hour.

FITE-ING SOLAR PROGRESS: Benton Republican Rep. Lanny Fite carried water for Entergy and other electrical utilities with a bill that will hamper Arkansas’s booming solar industry.

After negotiations with the Arkansas Advanced Energy Association, the bill was amended to grandfather solar projects into existing net-metering policy until Sept. 30, 2024. It also caps the project size at 5 megawatts and allows the solar array to be located within 100 miles of the location of the business that owns the array (Little Rock-based Central Arkansas Water’s solar system, for instance, is located in Cabot).

Dismang said that in 2019, when the legislature passed a law that allowed net metering, then-Public Service Commission Chairman Ted Thomas admitted that net metering would lead to what’s known as cost shifting, where the expense of utilities having to pay the retail rate for excess solar generation gets passed along to customers without solar. He said Thomas promised lawmakers that within six months the PSC would evaluate the cost shifting, but failed to follow through.

Thomas, in fiery testimony in House and Senate committees during this session, acknowledged that promise, but said that Entergy and the electric co-ops had never demonstrated that cost-shifting amounted to anything significant. The Arkansas Court of Appeals has also upheld the net-metering rate structure.

HUNGER

A commonsense bill by Dismang and Rep. DeAnn Vaught (R-Horatio) to ensure that any student who qualifies for reduced-price school meals would get them for free sailed through the ledge. But another proposal from Dismang aimed at helping the working poor was amended to be almost meaningless after Sanders dissed the original.

Arkansas is one of only a handful of states with restrictive asset limits from supplemental nutrition assistance payments (SNAP, or what used to be known as food stamps). SNAP eligibility is based on family income, but Arkansas additionally limits recipients based on their savings. If you’ve got more than $2,250 in assets, you won’t qualify. Dismang’s bill initially would have raised the asset limit to $12,500, a move that would have given families the breathing room to save up for a car, education expenses or a deposit on a better place to live without having to starve. Gov. Sanders’ spokeswoman, Alexa Henning, announced Sanders’ opposition early in the process: “We oppose expanding welfare and trapping more people in lifetime dependency that is paid for by the labor of hardworking taxpayers.” The bill then got amended to raise the asset limit to $5,500 if the federal government approves a waiver request from the state.

Read it in the Arkansas Times.

[leam1983]

Hogwarts Legacy - Thoughts

I'll keep things succinct, seeing as a subset on here takes any discussion of this game in a justifiably personal manner. I'll skip the themes and head straight to the mechanics.

The combat system is surprisingly involved. It starts out basic as you'd please, with a Parry and a Basic Cast, but then you realize that shields can be color-coded, and that you're expected to more or less play Simon with your attack types, as well. What starts with you wiping your opponents without breaking a sweat ends with your frantically reading the screen and praying to God that nobody tosses in a spell of which you haven't prepped for their particular color. Add in the requisite Dodge mechanic and the occasional unblockable either on your side or theirs, and you end up with a system that feels a little too expansive for a comfortable mouse-and-keyboard experience.

On the audio-visual spectrum, I'm glad to see Avalanche didn't follow the same route as the old PlayStation releases for the Potterverse's movie tie-in games. The PS1 release for Philosopher's Stone involved such gems as Dan Radcliffe recording five or six different takes on the same basic spell shouts, so you'd spend the first hour hearing a little kid shrilly call for Flippendo! over and over and OVER AGAIN.

What we've got instead is general silence, punctuated by the occasional call for Accio, Stupefy or what have you. It makes a lot more sense than having to actually call out every spell consistently.

Lore-wise, one particular character professes a certain ease for wand-less casting. As a longtime Dresden Files fan, I've always liked to see takes on magic that don't involved a little spindly thing being waved around by someone pretending to be an orchestra conductor. You're wielding the Universe's primal forces, in a sense, so there's nothing more badass than needing a basic wave of the hand or a forward thrust to Get Shit Done. Here's hoping this features in the game later on at some point, as I'm barely past Hogsmeade.

Thematically, I get the sense that Ranrok's rebellion isn't properly anchored. The other goblins and house elves we see are well-treated and respected (minus the lack of official clothes for Dobby's kin), and I'm guessing that his own motivations are going to be left for an abuse-generated vector that'll crop up a few hours down the line. As it stands, Hogwarts feels nice and inclusive, which makes the idea of an armed insurrection a little hard to believe. Things could've gone better if Fig and our protagonist had been established as having discussed the state of, er, Goblin Affairs, as it were, sometime well before their departure.

There's the issue of our 'toon, too. Why are we special? How and when did we discover we were sensitive to magic? I would've loved to play out that particular moment, especially in the context of Victorian London. As it stands, we're just a fifteen year-old latecomer.

On the technical point of view, the game is like several modern releases in that it more or less requires an NVME SSD to really play comfortably. Every single door in Hogwarts is preceded by a seconds-long loading period, and some cinematics are clearly set in place to serve as model and texture-streaming aesthetic curtains, and the resulting effect isn't necessarily pleasing. Sarah's running the game on an i9 10900K with 32 GBs of RAM and an RTX 2080 Super, and her game more or less froze in the seconds leading up to Headmaster Black's introduction, as everything slowly and painfully left the realms of Placeholder Textures to bloom into view appropriately. It's buttery-smooth otherwise, but add camera changes to the experience and the engine clearly struggles in these interstitial moments. I've also noticed a few issues with culling, as some assets can blip out of sight just before that point where they'd normally leave your viewing angle. It's a little jarring to see an entire hair-length vertical slice of the castle effectively Apparate into being (heh) in some particularly packed corners of the premises. It's all terribly gorgeous, sure, but still not entirely optimized. Still, once it's loaded, it's loaded. It all works well, with no outstanding visual bugs.

More to add later, I'm sure.

[servadock]

Seasonal Dock Removal: How to Protect Your Investment During Winter

A dock is a significant investment that provides countless benefits for waterfront property owners. However, as winter approaches, freezing temperatures, ice formation, and seasonal storms can jeopardize your dock's structure and longevity. Properly removing your dock for the winter is a crucial step in ensuring its protection and extending its lifespan.

What is the Importance of Seasonal Dock Removal

Preventing Ice Damage

Ice is one of the most significant threats to docks during winter. Expanding ice can exert tremendous pressure on dock structures, causing warping, cracking, or complete failure. Removing your dock before freezing temperatures arrive helps avoid costly damage.

Protecting Against Storms

Winter storms bring high winds, rough waters, and floating debris, which can destabilize or damage your dock. Seasonal removal ensures your dock is safely stored away from these elements.

Preserving Dock Longevity

Seasonal removal minimizes wear and tear caused by harsh winter conditions. By protecting your dock during this period, you can extend its usability and reduce maintenance costs.

Preparing for Dock Removal

Choose the Right Time

Timing is crucial for dock removal. Ideally, remove your dock before freezing temperatures set in and ice begins to form.

Monitor weather forecasts to identify the first signs of winter.

Avoid removing the dock during high winds or rough water conditions.

Gather Necessary Tools

Having the right equipment makes the removal process safer and more efficient.

Tools like wrenches, screwdrivers, and pliers for disassembling parts.

Safety gear such as gloves, boots, and a life jacket.

A winch or dolly for moving heavy dock sections.

Inspect the Dock

Before removal, inspect your dock for damage or wear.

Check for loose bolts, cracks, or structural instability.

Note areas needing repairs before reinstallation in spring.

Step-by-Step Guide to Dock Removal

Remove Accessories and Equipment

Begin by detaching all accessories and equipment to prevent damage during the process.

Remove ladders, benches, cleats, and other add-ons.

Disconnect utilities like electricity and water supply.

Store accessories in a safe, dry place for winter.

Disconnect the Dock from the Shoreline

Carefully detach the dock from the shoreline or mounting points.

Loosen and remove anchoring mechanisms such as chains or ropes.

Ensure the dock is free from any fixed structures like pilings or retaining walls.

Disassemble Dock Sections

For modular docks, dismantle the structure into manageable sections.

Start with outer sections and work toward the shoreline.

Label parts to simplify reassembly in the spring.

Avoid dragging sections over rough surfaces to prevent damage.

Transport and Store Dock Sections

Move dock sections to a safe storage location, ideally away from moisture and direct sunlight.

Use a winch, dolly, or team effort for heavy sections.

Store sections on a flat surface, elevated from the ground to prevent contact with snow or pooling water.

Tips for Winterizing Floating and Fixed Docks

Floating Docks

Drain water - Remove water from floats to prevent freezing and expansion.

Anchor securely - If removal isn’t an option, anchor the dock in a deep area where ice is less likely to form.

Fixed Docks

Protect with skirting - Install protective skirting to shield pilings and supports from ice.

Consider partial removal - Detach vulnerable parts, such as railings or decking, while leaving pilings intact.

Storing your Dock for Winter

Proper storage is key to ensuring your dock remains in good condition during the off-season.

Choose a Safe Location

Store dock sections in a secure area away from heavy snowfall, moisture, and debris.

Opt for an indoor facility, such as a garage or shed.

If outdoor storage is necessary, use tarps or covers to protect against weather.

Clean and Maintain

Thoroughly clean your dock sections before storage.

Remove algae, dirt, and debris to prevent staining or deterioration.

Apply protective coatings to wood or metal surfaces for added durability.

Organize Accessories

Keep all dock accessories and hardware organized for easy reassembly.

Store bolts, screws, and brackets in labeled containers.

Keep accessories like ladders and cleats in one area to avoid misplacement.

Hiring Professional Dock Removal Services

For many property owners, hiring professionals is the best option for seasonal dock removal. Experienced technicians ensure the process is safe and efficient.

Benefits of Professional Services

Expertise - Professionals have the tools and knowledge to handle complex docks.

Time-saving - Save yourself the physical effort and time investment.

Safety - Minimize risks associated with heavy lifting and cold weather.

Choosing a Reliable Service

Research local dock removal companies with positive reviews and recommendations.

Confirm that the service includes disassembly, transportation, and storage.

Ask about additional options like inspection or maintenance during removal.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

Waiting Too Long

Delaying dock removal increases the risk of damage from sudden weather changes. Schedule removal early to avoid rushing.

Neglecting Accessories

Failing to remove or secure accessories can lead to unnecessary damage or loss during winter.

Improper Storage

Storing dock sections in unsuitable locations exposes them to moisture, pests, and other hazards.

Skipping Maintenance

Ignoring maintenance needs during removal can lead to costly repairs in the future. Seasonal dock removal is a vital step in protecting your waterfront investment from winter’s harsh elements. Serv-a-Dock is the best option if you are looking for dock removal service in Lake Minnetonka. Contact them via email or by calling 952-443-2811.

[thenewpathfinder2024-2034]

PIRATES DIE OF REGRETS. BY Mike Bingham

Set sail for a radiant horizon, where promise and possibility unfold like a majestic sunrise! The shackles of 'never' are shattered, and the hurricane-force winds of potential propel us forward. 'I won't', 'I can't', and 'I'm not able' - those suffocating anchors of doubt - are cast into the depths, rusting relics of a bygone era. Every dream beckons, every challenge shines like treasure waiting to be seized!

I've weathered the fiercest storms, navigated the darkest, most forsaken depths, where trust was brutally broken and hope hung by a thread. But God, my unwavering compass, illuminated the path. With gentle yet unyielding guidance, He steered me through treacherous waters, past jagged shoals of despair, to the expansive decks of limitless opportunity, the tranquil seas of serenity, and the dazzling skies of promise.

Reclaimed, reborn, and rejuvenated, I vow to never again surrender to the undertow of self-doubt. Every sunrise brings a chance to rediscover, recharge, and rechart our course. We are the unyielding masters of our destiny, the fearless captains of our souls!

So let the tattered Jolly Roger of fear be lowered, and the majestic sails of courage be raised high! Let the anchor of negativity be lifted, and the exhilarating winds of positivity fill our sails. We set sail for greatness, conquering every wave of adversity, transforming each into a triumphant stepping stone to unparalleled success!

We are unstoppable, unbreakable, and unbeatable. Our horizon is limitless, our potential boundless. We are the heroes of our own epic journey, forging a legacy of courage, resilience, and triumph.

About the author:

Meet Mike Bingham, a beacon of inspiration and joy. As a passionate advocate for self-preservation and personal growth, he empowers others to thrive. A proud US Marine veteran (Desert Shield/Storm) and almost 3 decades on Memphis Fire Department (21 years in Special Operations), Mike now pursues his true passions as a dive shop owner and instructor course director in North Mississippi.

With an infectious enthusiasm, Mike explores the world's oceans, capturing stunning moments through photography and videography. His artistry sparks emotional connections, sharing the beauty of the underwater world with those on land. Beyond diving, Mike's happiness stems from reading, writing books, crafting props, outdoor escapades, and cherished time with loved ones on his serene 9-acre farm.

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Old Federal Building and Post Office (Howard M. Metzenbaum U.S. Courthouse)

201 Superior Ave., NE.

Cleveland, OH

The Old Federal Building and Post Office, known formerly as the Federal Building and U.S. Courthouse and now as the Howard M. Metzenbaum U.S. Courthouse, is a historic courthouse and post office building located on Superior Avenue on Public Square in downtown Cleveland, Cuyahoga County, Ohio. Built in 1910, it is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Its north side faces The Mall, and it is a monumental anchor to Cleveland's Civic Mall. Fronting both the Mall and Public Square, it was the first building erected under Cleveland's 1903 Group Plan, which illustrates the urban planning ideals of the City Beautiful movement.

New York architect Arnold W. Brunner (1857–1925) designed the building under the direction of Supervising Architect of the Treasury James Knox Taylor (1857–1929). The Federal Building formed one half of the Mall's termination at Superior Avenue. Cleveland's Public Library (1925), forming the other half of this terminus, emulates the Federal Building in scale, mass, and general overall appearance. The Howard M. Metzenbaum U.S. Courthouse is one of Cleveland's great monumental public buildings, skillfully illustrating the strong, classical characteristics of Beaux-Arts architecture. The five-story, granite-faced building was constructed between 1903 and 1910. The building covers the entire city block bounded by Rockwell Avenue on the north, Superior Avenue on the south, East Third Street on the east, and Public Square on the west.

Inspiration for the design of this Beaux Arts building came from the Place de la Concorde in Paris as well as the work of French architect and theorist Francois Blondel. The resulting design presents a rusticated first floor and 42-foot-high Corinthian order columns and pilasters on each elevation. These massive columns and pilasters define the sequence of window bays on the second, third, and fourth stories. Rusticated stone-arched windows with carved keystones adorn the first story. The more ornate second-story windows are capped with classically inspired pediments and balustraded sills. The third- and fourth-story window openings have molded surrounds and bracketed sills. Screening the fifth floor is an expansive entablature capped by a balustraded parapet that rises nine feet. A low-hipped, standing-seam copper roof crowns the building with attic dormer windows facing the interior light court. The parapets are adorned with shields and carved stone eagles at the building's corners.

The main entrance to the building is centered on the Superior Avenue facade. Granite steps lead to three rusticated stone arches once fitted with cast bronze doors and ornate bronze lanterns hang from cast bronze brackets. The original doors have been replaced. Flanking the primary entrance are two important sculptures executed by the famed sculptor Daniel Chester French (1850–1931). Jurisprudence is located on the Public Square corner, while Commerce sits at the corner of East Third Street and Superior Avenue. Jurisprudence is personified by a mother figure clasping her baby while a criminal crouches in chains. Commerce is depicted as a female figure holding a model ship in one hand while her other arm rests on a globe representing the opportunity for world trade. At her right is Electricity, symbolized by a female figure holding a magnet catching electrical sparks. Steam, located to her left, is represented by a male figure grasping a wheel.

On the interior, the grand main lobby dominates the first floor as it runs east to west across the entire length of the building. The floors, walls, and vaulted ceiling of the lobby are surfaced with marble. Original chandeliers illuminate the space. The postal service windows are located along the lobby's north wall. Marble stairs wrap around three sides of the elevator shafts, located at the east and west ends of the public lobby. Cast-bronze, spread-wing eagles standing on globes appear over each pair of elevator doors. Corner offices in the upper floors are adorned with impressive murals depicting significant events in the history of Cleveland. Among the magnificent artworks are City of Cleveland Welcomes the Arts by Will Hicok Low (1853–1932), and the Battle of Lake Erie by Rufus Fairchild Zogbaum (1849–1925). Murals in the ceremonial courtrooms on the third floor are The Common Law by Henry Siddons Mowbray (1858–1928), and The Law by Edwin Howland Blashfield (1848–1936).

The building was listed with the National Register of Historic Places on May 3, 1974, as the Old Federal Building and Post Office. On May 27, 1998, the building was officially renamed in honor of U.S. Senator Howard Metzenbaum of Ohio. A major renovation project to restore public spaces and modernize the mechanical systems was initiated in 2002. Although the primary activities of the U.S. District Court system have moved to the new Carl B. Stokes Federal Court House Building a few blocks west, the ceremonial courtrooms in the Metzenbaum Courthouse will continue to be used for public hearings and proceedings. New client agencies moving into the renovated building will include the U.S. Bankruptcy Court, the Office of the U.S. Trustee, and the U.S. Marshals Service.