#it’s now hitting landfall

[artcalledwind]

Fractures Being Fracked Eel the supple Ill in behaviors Well fractures being fracked - - - - WARNING THIS NOT ABOUT OIL - - - - The choice: Experience As President, 4yrs As Vice President, 8yrs In supporting corner As Vice President, 4 yrs As Ex-Former President, 4yrs As TV show Host, (sorry, only watched a handful of episodes) Brought in on Earth with money ___________Reflection Line_______________ Made easy for purchase of Golden Toilet The rump T never bought a chariot he would have had to smell it Blooddeath started Jan 6, Intimidation tactics begin if not elected, “Bloodbath” “Lower the Regulations” Ex-FP speaks on his behalf Welcome our environmental catastrophe’s Allowed still to be an entrepreneur representative The always? for the people? Oops what? ooh whoa! There is now FOD on our windshields Our mirrors & windows Due pray for wings & wheels And don’t forget doors, fuel pumps the faulty alternators criss crossed wiring and prices It all has been about profits And a pack of now how many is saving lives? The slanted iron walls Just caused problems from the purposefully start and started *An American Way! American Way! American Way* Fractures being fracked Nut not tighten To be torqued to obviously better than manufacturing guidelines and/or loosen the reigns as they say, lower regulations We won’t be here for after effect or the affected, we got really nothing to loose…… Thee out cries Fractures Fracked

[fulokis]

I keep thinking about the work thing i have to go to on Thursday and I keep thinking it’s not gonna work out, because A. I get called in early and I’m not just gonna say no or B. 93L ends up hitting the peninsula and we are mid or just finishing up rideout depending on how strong it gets

[cannabiscomrade]

Monday 9/23/24: If you are in the Gulf of Mexico area near the Florida Panhandle, now is the time to prepare for a possible major hurricane (Cat 3-5) to hit sometime after 2pm on Thursday September 26th. 41 Florida counties are currently under a state of emergency.

Two models are showing the possibility of a Category 5, so it shouldn’t be ruled out, if you over prepare that’s better than the other scenario.

Current estimates are expecting this to be a LARGE hurricane, so even if you’re not in Florida, you need to make plans and be prepared for evacuations or locking down.

These are some of the latest developments:

Current tracks are still uncertain once it makes landfall, but it’s expected to curve west and be a large rain producer.

[eelnoise]

a little rhythm and a wicked feeling (nsfw!)

trafalgar law x fem!reader cw: fingering, slight overstimulation, pussy touching in general, piv sex an: just like w/ the usopp one this is the law one btw. hes a freak i need him wc: 1.1k tagging: @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @nina-ya @themushroomofdeath @risenwrites @missmugiwara masterlist | kofi

"Sit still," Law mutters into your shoulder, one hand knuckle-deep in your pussy while the other rustles around on his desk, flipping pages or filing through papers. 

Snug in his lap and locked between his sturdy arms, you try your hardest to keep from wriggling around too much – but with the orgasms he's pulled out of you already, you're almost too sensitive to the touch to avoid twitching with even the slightest of touches.

Law knows your limits, and his fingers slide out of you to touch gently at your pussy for a reprieve. His motions are slow, methodically rubbing and spreading you into a calm push and pull of pleasure and relaxation – he can’t have you totally limp in his arms just yet.

"Hmph," Law grunts, his voice growing a bit hoarse as he rubs at your slit, "Not sure if we have what we need on board," He sighs and reaches over to the multi-page inventory accounts. "Nothing else that's useful for hives, anyway."

"But there are things we can get to help, right?" You quip, forcing stability to your words with varying degrees of success. "Shachi isn't doomed to his fate, surely."

"Not quite, but it's going to take a bit," Law murmurs, his finger slipping back into you with the intention to work you up again, "We'll have to make a stop at a proper apothecary, but I don't think we can get to one for at least few days." Another finger joins the first, stretching you open for his slow, practiced thrusts, "For now, we'll have to manage with what we can get our hands on."

You almost sink your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and roll your head backward into the crook of his neck. The muffled cry of delirium makes Law smirk to himself, the man fully aware of the affect his work is having on you.

He doesn't need you to talk, of course, but despite everything he's doing, despite everything you're feeling -- Law finds your attempts to chat accordingly with him both humorous and arousing.

"I can count on your perception to assist me next landfall, yes?" Law asks, eager to hear your voice again.

You whimper, nodding with soft grunts and straining breaths; your voice is lost in the symphony of your pleasure. The way his fingers pump in and out of you, spreading you wide, has your hips starting to raise to meet him, riding the lithe digits as they scissor in and out of you.

"Good, good," He approves, pinning your hips down to his lap as his own rise to meet yours, "I'm glad we're on the same page."

Law pulls his fingers from you again, just at the very peak of your impending high. Both of his hand come to your waist as he effortlessly twists you around to face him.

You straddle his thighs, watching as he pulls his cock free from his already loosened pants. He aligns himself with you, the tip of his length teasing up and down your folds before stopping to just barely press himself into you. Unable to resist, you lower yourself onto his him, impaling yourself on him inch by blessed inch. Your body shudders as he fills you up, the tightness of your pussy making Law to groan with satisfaction.

Law leaves you to do the rest as he resumes his work. His arms lock you in at either side, one hand firm on your lower back as you guide yourself down. Your arms snake around his neck and you cradle your head on his shoulder to muffle the sound of your cry when your hips meet fully.

You begin to bounce on his lap, the head of his cock hitting that one spot inside you and making you sob with delight. Law's hand on your lower back slowly drifts up to grip one of your breasts, teasing your nipple between his fingers. The combination of pleasure is enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm, your back arching as you cry out his name, the sensation overwhelming.

Law watches you as you ride him, his eyes hooded with pleasure. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth as he hungrily devours yours.

He grabs at your hips, holding you steady as his thrusts become more insistent, pumping his cock deeper into you. You're a tight, wet heat that envelopes him, burning any sense he has left away and leaving him unable to preoccupy himself any longer with the endless theories of Shachi's disposition.

As you reach the peak of another orgasm, Law can't help but feel the swell within him, the slick heat of your pussy pulsing around his cock. He bites your lower lip, muffling a groan as he thrusts deep, burying himself as far as he can.

"Shit!" He curses, his hips bucking as he fills you with his seed, the warmth spilling within you. His fingers grip your hips, bruisingly tight, as his orgasm rips through him, causing his cock to pulse and twitch inside you, painting the insides of your pussy with his essence.

He continues to pump into you, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. As the last of his release spills into you, he pulls you onto his lap, cradling you against his chest as he lowers his head to bury his face in your hair.

With a soft chuckle, Law twists his chair around to set you down gently, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other at your waist. "You should clean up get some rest," He says, his thumb rubbing apologetic circles into your flesh. "I need you wide alert to keep Shachi from dying, after all." 

"You know, I might just let you die if you don't take a break from your research," You jest, nudging him with a smile that's not without genuine affection. He grins, his hand still rubbing at your hip, "But I suppose I'll settle for sleep and a proper bath."

You lean in to give him a quick but tender kiss before standing up and making your way off his lap. "Get some rest; I'll be in my cabin if you need me."

Law watches you leave, his smile softening as he turns his attention back to his books, his own exhaustion creeping up on him. He'll need to rest as well, but he can't help but feel some relief at the small bit of progress he's made. Your help, your distraction, has done wonders for his spirits, and the lingering scent of you on his fingers only adds to his satisfaction.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

long time no see

pairing: tyler owen’s x fem! reader

summary: Tyler Owens reunites with his childhood love, Y/N, at a rodeo, protecting her from a EF5 tornado

Tyler Owens had loved Y/N since grade school when he used to pull on her pigtails and tease her relentlessly. Now, years later, fate brought them together again at the local rodeo. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, but Tyler couldn't focus on anything other than Y/N. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, her long hair blowing in the wind, freckles dotting her face, and cute dimples appearing when she smiled.

Gathering his courage, Tyler walked up to her, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, Y/N," he called out, a grin spreading across his face.

She turned to him, her eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, oh my god, Tyler? I haven’t seen you in ages!" She gave him a big hug, her familiar scent of cherries filling his senses and bringing back a rush of memories.

They both asked simultaneously, "How are you doing?" and then laughed together, saying in unison, "You go first."

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling with joy. "You first, Y/N. It's been way too long."

As they chatted and caught up, the sky began to darken ominously. The familiar wail of tornado sirens cut through the air, sending a wave of panic through the crowd. People started to scatter, heading for the nearest shelters. Tyler's eyes scanned the chaos, searching desperately for Y/N.

Suddenly, he spotted her. She was helping an older lady who had been pushed down in the rush. Tyler’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd toward her. "Y/N!" he shouted over the noise. "Are You crazy?! We need to get to the shelter!"

Y/N looked up, relief washing over her face at the sight of him. She helped the older woman to her feet, and once the woman was safely on her way, Tyler grabbed Y/N's hand, pulling her toward the nearest shelter. They ran together, hand in hand, through the storm's fury.

Inside the shelter, they found a seat in the far back. The sound of the wind howling outside was deafening, and the roof began to lift under the sheer force of the storm. Tyler didn't hesitate; he towered his body over Y/N, shielding her from the flying debris.

After what felt like an eternity, the storm passed. The shelter door creaked open, revealing a world turned upside down by the tornado. Y/N looked up at Tyler, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

Tyler's phone buzzed with an alert from his crew. His face grew serious as he read the message. "An EF4 made landfall in Topeka, Kansas," he said, his voice tight.

Y/N's eyes widened in horror. "My momma and daddy! I gotta go. They live there, on the same farm since I was a little girl."

Tyler grabbed her hand again, determination in his eyes. "Come with me. We'll check on them together."

They hurried to Tyler's truck, the devastation around them a stark reminder of the storm's power. The drive to Topeka was tense, the sky still dark with lingering clouds. Tyler kept a firm grip on the wheel, his other hand holding Y/N's for reassurance.

When they arrived at Y/N's family farm, the sight that greeted them was both heartbreaking and relieving. The farmhouse was damaged but still standing. Y/N's parents emerged from the house, shaken but unharmed.

"Momma! Daddy!" Y/N cried, rushing into their arms. Tears of relief streamed down her face.

Tyler stood back, watching the reunion with a soft smile. He had always cared for Y/N, and seeing her safe and happy filled him with a deep sense of contentment.

Suddenly, Y/N remembered something crucial. "Moose!" she exclaimed, panic rising in her voice. "Where's Moose?"

Her parents' faces fell, and her mother spoke, her voice trembling. "He was in the house when the storm hit. We couldn't get to him in time."

Without hesitation, Y/N broke away from her parents and ran towards the partially collapsed house. "Y/N, wait!" Tyler shouted, but she didn't stop.

"It's too dangerous!" he called out, running after her.

Y/N ignored him, her heart pounding with fear for her beloved chocolate lab. She carefully navigated the debris, calling out for Moose. She finally found him, trembling and stuck under a fallen beam but otherwise unharmed. "Moose, come here, boy!" she coaxed gently, freeing him and scooping him up in her arms.

Holding Moose like a baby on her hip, Y/N made her way out of the house. Just as she stepped outside, the rest of the house gave way, collapsing entirely. Tyler's heart nearly stopped as he watched the house crumble behind her.

He ran to her, his face a mask of anxiety and relief. "You scared me half to death," he said, grabbing her face with both hands. His eyes searched hers, filled with worry. "Don't ever do that again."

Y/N's breath hitched, and she nodded, tears of relief streaming down her face as Moose licked her cheek. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave him."

Tyler pulled her into a tight embrace, careful of Moose between them. "I know," he murmured into her hair. "Just promise me you'll be careful. I don't want to lose you."

Y/N nodded against his chest, feeling the safety and warmth of his arms around her. "I promise," she whispered back.

As they stood there, the storm's aftermath fading into the background, it was clear that their bond had only grown stronger. And with Moose safely in her arms and Tyler by her side, Y/N knew she could face anything that came their way.

Tyler pulled back slightly, looking deeply into her eyes. "Y/N, I've waited a long time to tell you this," he said softly. "I've loved you since we were kids, since the days I pulled on your pigtails just to get your attention."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words. "Tyler, I..."

He gently placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. "I want to do this right," he said. "Will you go on a date with me?"

A smile broke across Y/N's face, and she nodded. "Yes, Tyler. I'd love that."

Relief and joy washed over Tyler as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender, special kiss. It was a promise of a new beginning.

[omgthatdress]

I got a comment on a hurricane from someone (now blocked) who said "this is not a survivable storm. You're going to die. Make peace with your life and go into the light."

and what the HELL. That is NOT a cool way to be talking to people right now. It's a hurricane, not a meteor, and it's still supposed to be down to a cat 3 when it makes landfall.

I'm not going to say that it's going to be a big nothingburger or that absolutely nothing bad is going to happen, but I have sat through more hurricanes than I can count.

Homes in Florida are literally built to be hurricane-proof. It's in all of our building codes as a legacy of countless lives lost before we knew how to build homes that could withstand the storms. Read Their Eyes Were Watching God.

I live a good distance inland, not in an evacuation zone, and in a place that doesn't flood. Srsly I've lived in the same house 36 years and never once have we had to deal with flooding.

We keep our trees trimmed and the roof is in good shape. I can't discount random bizarre acts of God, but I can all but guarantee you that the worst thing that's gonna happen to me is I'm gonna be without power for a day or two. My house usually gets it restored relatively quickly because we're on the same power grid as a hospital, or at least so says my dad. It will suck but I will live.

Helene was bad because it hit an area that doesn't have the same hurricane-proofing and it caught a lot of people off guard. Here in Tampa we are very well used to this and well prepared for whatever is going to come.

This situation definitely isn't good but it is NOT the apocalypse. Don't do anything stupid and you'll be fine.

[cleolinda]

The Category 4 hurricane, bordering on Category 5 [as of Tuesday Oct. 8], was expected to reach Florida's Gulf Coast between 10 p.m Wednesday and 2 a.m. Thursday, according to the latest forecasts.

“You have time today. Time is running out," Gov. Ron DeSantis told reporters on Tuesday. "But you do have time today to heed any evacuation orders and do what you need to do to protect yourself and our families.”

Sarasota Mayor Liz Alpert said she's confident her constituents understand the consequences of not evacuating. "What everyone has been saying is, you have to evacuate, it is not survivable, to survive a 10- to 15-foot storm surge," Alpert told NBC News on Tuesday. "It just simply isn't."

Mr. Biden said he pre-approved emergency declarations in Florida and had sent FEMA administrator Deanne Criswell to Florida on Monday. He also called on airlines to provide "as much service as possible" and "not engage in price gouging."

Mr. Biden said he had spoken to "all political leaders" in the region, "some of them more than once," and he said he told them "anything they ask for, they can get."

I don’t want to add to people’s anxiety about this if you’re already safe or following the story from afar, but if this kind of warning convinces anyone to evacuate or make sure their loved ones do, it’s worth it. If you want to evacuate now but you don’t know where to go, lists of shelters by county are over here.

More about the predicted path:

It’s also been pointed out that you can travel north OR south—the hurricane is cutting across the state. Ideally you would get out of the path entirely, but any distance from the direct line of impact and/or the coast would help, even a little:

Scroll way, way down for the interactive map, which I have screenshots of below (again, accurate as of midday Tuesday October 8th). The hurricane will weaken as it hits land, but it’s still wildly intense, considering:

I wasn’t online much the week of Helene, or I would have posted then too. But Helene also gave us an idea of how bad things could get, and a baseline for “even worse,” so that’s one of the reasons I’m posting all this now. (I also have the luxury of being in a different state. I’m not someone to worry about.) I’ll look for disaster relief resources and post those when the time comes. I hope people are still helping Asheville and NC, but this is gonna have to be my lane for now.

[theaologies]

spinning my chair around and sitting in it backwards: GOOOOOD MORNING CLASS

FIRST AND FOREMOST: this is not a panic post. It’s an informational preparedness post. Don’t panic. Just be prepared for this like you’d be prepared for an earthquake but you know it’s coming and it’s wet.

I’m 30, lived in Central Florida for the first 26 years of my life, and have experienced more hurricanes and tropical storms than you can imagine. Never in my life did I think I would have to discuss HURRICANE SAFETY again after moving to LOS ANGELES from FLORIDA and yet HERE WE ARE-

(This information is accurate as of 8/17 at 9am PST)

SO models are still early but it seems like as of last night, Pacific Hurricane Hilary is rapidly intensified AND has shifted its track pretty severely inland. Originally SoCal was predicted to get some bands off the coast but this does NOT seem to be the case anymore

As our good friend Jim Cantore mentioned above, if Hilary DOES make landfall in SoCal, it will be the first tropical storm to do so since 1939. Fucking yikes.

THE GOOD NEWS:

It isn’t looking like Hilary will make landfall anywhere as a strong hurricane. If it makes landfall in central Baja it looks like it’ll be a Cat 2 which isn’t great but still- better than the Cat 5 it’s currently strengthening to.

As for SoCal, we’re not predicted to get anything over a Tropical Storm. And mountains tear up tropical cyclones like crazy. It’ll (probably) be weak and, wind wise, no worse than the Santa Ana’s

THE BAD NEWS:

Our Cone of Uncertainty is currently pretty wide- this fluctuation matters as it determines which side of the storm hits us. Is this significant? Yes. The right side of a Hurricane is considered the “dirty” side- it’s the side that is most likely to produce severe weather, such as severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. It’s still too early to determine what side will affect us the most but it’s something to keep in mind.

Also, I can’t speak for the rest of SoCal, but I would not bet on the LA infrastructure doing well even with a weak tropical storm. Which is why I have brought you here today, to run down the IMPORTANT HURRICANE CHECKLIST

NOTE: I made this several years ago for FLORIDA so not all of it will be accurate to SoCal. Most of us live in apartments and have no say over tree trimmings and the likes. If the storm is feeling like it’s going to get bad, I would recommend moving important things and electronics away from windows and hanging out in areas of the apartment that have the least amount of windows. I don’t think boarding up windows or anything will be necessary but here’s information if you need/want it

ANOTHER NOTE: if you have the means, please check up on your unhoused neighbors and immediate community groups that do so, as well. As always, they will be the ones most affected by severe weather. Tarps, anything that rises up off the ground, waterproof bags, etc would be good to grab for them. I am not an expert here and would recommend following the lead of your community groups that work with your unhoused neighbors to find out what will be needed most.

I don’t at all think we’ll see any shutdowns so if the rain does get bad be prepared for dangerous driving conditions. I know it’s dangerous to drive any time it rains in LA but, you know. The Weather Channel isn’t predicting a TON of rain at the moment (for LA) but, just like our winter/spring this year, be on the look out for flash floods.

And again, this is all JUST IN CASE. It’s better to be prepared than not. SoCal’s infrastructure is not at all prepared to handle a tropical event so who knows! Anything is possible. If I was in Florida I wouldn’t at all be worrying about this but I’m not anymore and our wet winter absolutely fucked our roads in LA so I’d rather everyone be safe than sorry.

I’m sure it’ll all be fine and now you just have more safety information, which is never bad! Because frankly climate change is very real and I would not be surprised to see this happening more and more in the coming years. And it does have me worrying that El Niño this year is going to be worse than we imagined.

[paper-mario-wiki]

scout how do i get into tf2. i want to play but i'm intimidated

u can choose one of the 9 guys, and theyre all fun to play.

first guy is the fastest and jumps twice, but has low health. he has a strong shotgun as his primary that can kill people from full health in 2 shots if youre close enough and aim well enough

second guy is kinda slow and has a rocket launcher, which does a lot of damage (but not enough to kill anyone in a single hit like other FPS games, unless you get a crit), and hes got a lot of health

third guy is my favorite one and is one of the more mechanically complex. u can do a lot, but for now think of it as area denial. not very much range, but high output and leaves them on fire

fourth guy is like junkrat: he launches grenades that explode on impact with a target, but if they hit a wall or the ground they wait out their natural timer before exploding. he can also leave bombs that he can detonate at any time. hes also pretty slow but has more health.

fifth guy has the most health and the strongest gun, but is also the slowest and one of the easier guys to pick off from a distance. hes got a big gatling machine gun

sixth guy specializes in utilities. he can deny an area by putting down a sentry that fires automatically and be upgraded twice (faster firing + rockets with levels 2 and 3). he's not great in 1v1s but he can hold is own if you play smart.

7th guy is the main healer. you point at a guy and click on him to heal, but after youve connected to him you dont need to keep looking at him the whole time; as long as youre within a certain distance and you keep holding down the mouse button you'll keep healing. he also passively regenerates health slowly, but as the worst offensive options in the game

8th guy is broken. you can instantly kill anyone from any distance as long as you click on their head. not super great in close combat but has optional weapons that can enhance his survival rate when he's rushed down

9th guy goes invisible, can disguise as enemy teammates to fool them, and can instantly kill anyone with a backstab, but he's also easy to kill and has poor defensive options if he's caught out by himself.

the game is free to download, and once you do i suggest queuing for casual selecting any maps that look good

i suggest Harvest, Badlands, Sawmill, and Viaduct for King of the Hill

i suggest Badwater, Upward, Frontier, Snowycoast, and Borneo for payload

i suggest Turbine, 2Fort, Double Cross, and Landfall for Capture the Flag

go have fun. dont worry about being bad. just play and find joy in any way you can.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Every editorial board must do the same. Bravo, Charlotte Observer. This is how it’s done.

+

THE PARTY TOLD YOU TO REJECT THE EVIDENCE OF YOUR EYES AND EARS. IT WAS THEIR FINAL, MOST ESSENTIAL COMMAND.

TCinLA

Oct 07, 2024

Brian Beutler described this perfectly this morning:

When Donald Trump started telling conspicuous lies about the federal response to Hurricane Helene, all of MAGA understood the assignment.

His supporters understood they should spread rumors or fabricate anecdotes consistent with Trump’s claims. They should portray their own confusion as government malice or incompetence. They should claim to have witnessed FEMA abandoning Republican-heavy regions and illegal immigrants walking away with relief money first hand. They should even use artificial intelligence technology to fabricate images that reinforce these lies.

Elon Musk and Trump’s other ultra-wealthy supporters understood it as their solemn duty to draw as much attention to these lies as possible.

Its also a trial run for the chaos they intend to sow through the election.

David Simon expressed disgust on behalf of many: “For the chance to gain some political advantage, the Republican nominee for U.S. president is willing to lie, and in doing so, actually impair the ongoing efforts to help the Americans made vulnerable by this hurricane. That level of sociopathy simply astonishes.”

(The old astonishing has been astonishingly surpassed by the new astonishing.)

From The Hill today:

SPEAKER JOHNSON CALLS FEDERAL RESPONSE TO HELENE ‘A MASSIVE FAILURE’

Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) called the federal response to Hurricane Helene a “massive failure” and pointed to the hundreds of people still missing.

“At the federal level, this has been a massive failure. And you can just ask the people there on the ground. I have been there. I was in Georgia. I was in Florida, where Hurricane Helene made landfall, there on the coast. And then we’ll be going to the hardest hit parts of North Carolina on Wednesday of this week,” Johnson told Shannon Bream on “Fox News Sunday.”

Johnson said the federal government had advance notice of the hurricane and should have been better equipped to respond.

“When you talk to the people who are directly affected, they will tell you this has been an abject failure. FEMA has lost sight of its core mission, I think, in so many cases, and the administration has not shown that they were prepared for this, this eventuality, and this terrible disaster.

“They had more than a week’s notice of this, and yet we still have people who have not been served and even rescued,” Johnson added. “In North Carolina, it is a heartbreaking, tragic and infuriating situation to have the federal government fail, as they have well.”

The remarks come as Republicans have sharpened their attacks on the federal response to Hurricane Helene, just one month ahead of Election Day.

The federal government and other local and federal officials have fought back against claims that the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) is inept.

Sen. Thom Tillis (R-N.C.) said recently that he was impressed with the federal response, noting North Carolina’s impact was not expected to be as severe as it was.

“For anybody who thinks that any level of government, anybody here, could have been prepared precisely for what we’re dealing with here, clearly are clueless,” Tillis said. “But right now, I’m out here to say that we’re doing a good job.”

The federal government has also sought to dispel rumors about the lack of federal funding available to residents affected by the national disaster.

FEMA has set up a designated “rumor response page” to fight misinformation and inform residents of available funding.

White House spokesperson Andrew Bates responded to Johnson’s criticism by pointing to “a wide range of leaders in both parties and from every affected state” who “have praised the bipartisan response to Hurricane Helene.”

Bates pointed to Tillis’s remarks, as well as to comments made by other GOP officials, including South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster, who called the federal response “superb,” and Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp (R), who said he “appreciated” Biden’s offer to “call him directly” if the governor needed further assistance.

Bates also quoted Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.), who said, “This is an incredible experience for me. So, to President Biden, thank you for coming. Thank you for paying attention to our needs. We have had a good working relationship between the federal government.”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Gabe Fleisher at Wake Up To Politics:

A few weeks ago, after CNN published its bombshell report about North Carolina Lt. Gov. Mark Robinson, I was texting with a friend. Rumors had been flying around the political world all day about what the report would bring. Now that it had arrived, my friend told me he was unimpressed; it wasn’t as earth-shattering as he’d been expecting. “One day, when your grandchildren ask you what American politics was like in 2024,” I responded, “you can tell them that we learned a gubernatorial candidate called himself a Nazi on a porn website, and your initial response was to shrug.” [...]

The U.S. is currently grappling with two major hurricanes at once — trying to prepare for one while still recovering from the damage of the other. The latter, Hurricane Helene, was the deadliest hurricane to hit the mainland U.S. since Katrina in 2005. More than 200 people have been killed, mostly in North Carolina, but also in Georgia and South Carolina as well. Entire towns in western North Carolina were leveled; some residents have now gone more than a week without running water.

The former, Hurricane Milton, is expected to make landfall in Florida tonight. Forecasters suggest that it could hit Tampa Bay, which was also impacted by the devastation of Helene but has not been in the direct path of a hurricane since 1921. The city is considered uniquely vulnerable to natural disaster; analysts are already predicting damage upwards of $50 billion. Local, state, and federal officials have been pleading with anyone in Milton’s path to evacuate immediately. “I can say this without any dramatization whatsoever: If you choose to stay in one of those evacuation areas, you are going to die,” Tampa Mayor Jane Castor said on CNN earlier this week.

“Several years ago I asked [the National Hurricane Center] to show me what the worst case storm hitting Florida would look like,” Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL) posted on X. “What they showed me back then is almost identical to the #Milton forecast now.” With both storms hitting the U.S. only weeks before a heated presidential election, it is not shocking that they has quickly been sucked into the political discourse. America has a long history of election-year disasters becoming talking points on the campaign trail, from Hurricane Andrew hurting George H.W. Bush in 1992 to Hurricane Sandy boosting Barack Obama in 2012. But the responses to Helene and Milton have been marked by something new: an unprecedented flood of misinformation and conspiracy theories. Don’t take it from me. Take it from FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell, who told reporters on a Tuesday conference call that the misinformation surrounding these two hurricanes has been “absolutely the worst I have ever seen.”

Many of the false claims have come directly from Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump, who has claimed that: the Biden administration is “going out of their way to not help people in Republican areas” (GOP governors have said otherwise); that “Kamala spent all her FEMA money, billions of dollars, on housing for illegal migrants” (FEMA’s congressionally-appropriated program to help local governments house migrants is completely separate from FEMA’s disaster relief funds); and that “we give foreign countries hundreds of billions of dollars and we’re handing North Carolina $750” (that is merely the amount of aid made available to hurricane victims immediately; over the long run, victims can receive up to tens of thousands of dollars in support). A slew of Trump allies, including X owner Elon Musk, have amplified several other conspiracy theories online. But the prize for Biggest Whopper goes to Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA), who posted — on her official congressional account — this week: “Yes they can control the weather.” The supposed “they” was not immediately identified, although Greene previously suggested in 2018 that California wildfires that year were caused by space lasers linked to the Rothschilds, a prominent Jewish family that has long been the subject of antisemitic conspiracy theories. (Greene posted again about “lasers controlling the weather” this week.) In recent weeks, Hurricanes Helene and Milton have sparked a flurry of antisemitic attacks against Jewish officials involved in the response, including claims that they created the disasters.

In her initial post, Greene attached a video of former CIA Director John Brennan discussing geoengineering, an umbrella term for scientific research into manipulating climate systems in order to mitigate the effects of climate change. Geoengineering remains largely theoretical; it is not possible to geoengineer a hurricane, and the technology has no connection to anything that happened with either Helene or Milton. “Climate change is the new Covid,” Greene asserted in another message. “Ask your government if the weather is manipulated or controlled. Did you ever give permission to them to do it? Are you paying for it? Of course you are.”

Other right-wing influencers advanced the argument. “The weather can and is being manipulated,” Georgia Republican Party official Kandiss Taylor posted to her nearly 60,000 X followers, adding: “[Georgia] voting has been compromised and don’t know if we will be able to get all our early voting days in. Now, a hurricane is coming straight for Florida. These two states are necessary for a Trump victory! No coincidence.” Taylor’s message has received more than 3 million views on X. The theories became popular enough in right-wing circles that Rep. Chuck Edwards (R-NC), who represents Asheville and most of western North Carolina (the area hit hardest by Helene), issued a press release on Tuesday to reassure his constituents of the falsity of various claims. Near the top of the list? “Nobody can control the weather,” he wrote. The statement, in its entirety, is a fascinating historical document — showing the types of claims that a Republican congressman felt he needed to fact-check in 2024, partially due to misinformation spread by his own colleagues and his party’s presidential candidate.

This piece in Wake Up To Politics by Gabe Fleisher is a must-read on the misinformation/disinformation crisis regarding Hurricanes Helene and Milton, thanks to Donald Trump and MAGA-aligned figures (especially in the right-wing media apparatus).

See Also:

MMFA: On The Victory Channel's FlashPoint, pro-Trump prophets suggest Hurricanes Helene and Milton are “spiritual” and that “God did say in the prophecies that these storms would be sent to interrupt the flow of our election process”

[sincosma]

Well, I guess I make big posts on Tumblr now about hurricanes because WHAT THE FUCK.

So, I live in the Tampa Bay Area, specifically in Pinellas County, which is the most densely populated county in the state of Florida. We haven't had a direct hit from a hurricane in over 100 years. And despite that, Helene completely devastated our county with 5 to 8 feet of storm surge.

I have friends and coworkers living in hotels and other people's homes who have lost everything. Our barrier islands reek with raw sewage and dead marine life. As I speak, they are still trying to remove the FEET of toxic sand on the barrier islands that the storm surge pushed inland. There were 12 deaths in my county from that storm surge. It's the worst hurricane damage our area has ever received in the modern era. And that was from a storm that stayed 100 miles offshore.

Hurricane Milton is currently heading our way. Right now, models are showing a potential landfall in the Tampa Bay Area as a cat 3, maybe 4, hurricane. We're still struggling to recover from Helene, and now we're right back in the crosshairs. My point here is that things can change very quickly. If you live on the west coast of Florida, please prepare and please stay weather aware.

If evacuations are called in your area, please spread the word to your neighbors, especially if they are elderly, have disabilities, live in poverty, or have other evacuation challenges. CHECK ON YOUR NEIGHBORS. I cannot stress this enough. If you live near vulnerable people, check on them and talk to them about their plans if evacuations are called. Check with your county website to see what services are available for evacuation and shelters.

Stay safe, fellow west coast Florida friends. <3

[niichanism]

wanted to put this fic Somewhere lol it’s uhhhh that “what if ace got sold into slavery in Marie Geoise instead of being executed except long lost brother Sabo is (somehow) in deep cover as a CD there and impulsively pilfers money from the revolution funds to buy and protect his brother” logistically i run into problems w this concept but i do think like. childhood friends fake dating except it’s high stakes fake master/slave is like. 1. potential funny 2. hot 3. compelling in that acesabo are living in their own actual personal hells together shfhdd

tw: mob character/ace attempted SA, non-graphic maiming of dick, ace honorable suicide ideation ig, sabo…… just poor sabo lol, the cd slave brand thing soRRY ACE idk the usual “i don’t like spoilering much so if you’re sensitive don’t read this it’s borderline dead dove”

————-

In the span of a week, Ace had gone from being Blackbeard’s captive to the World Government's prize, and finally, unexpectedly, into the greasy hands of professional slavers. 

That was a twist he hadn't expected. He couldn’t quite get his head around it. 

Ace much preferred the rough touch of pirates or marines to this sickening cushiness, treated with care while strung up like meat. They bathed him in sea water. He was so nauseous he could barely twitch his limbs. His skin only recoiled wherever they washed away dirt or tended to wounds from the fight. He was scrubbed pink, patched, or soothed where every blemish would be. His ribs were still broken. Almost good as new, the lackey had reported to her overseers.

As confusing as it was infuriating. Then, somehow, reading the lusterless eyes of the other captives, he understood. They were gagged like Ace was. They had the faint, forlorn expressions of long-term prisoners. But how neat and tidy they were– their hair, skin, and even what little clothes they had were as well-kept as the circumstances allowed. Again, Ace’s body thrummed with a knock-out combo of adrenaline and disgust. He recalled Sabo saying that nobles don't care about anything but appearances. If it can’t improve their status, it's worthless to them. 

Ace would rather die than be some dolled up or dressed down status symbol for the rich. He'd rather jump and let the ocean take him. He’d rather have fallen in battle to a scumbag like Teach or even met his end on the navy’s chopping block, flipping Garp the bird one last time. 

Then, the silver lining— he’d see Sabo again, at least. There was always the chance that he’d find an opening once they hit landfall. If he could, he’d burn this place to a crisp and take all these poor folks to far greener pastures, one way or another. He just had to keep his wits together. No matter what, he wasn’t going to let anyone buy him. 

Or if they did get that far, he’d make sure they regretted it. For now, the issue was that all the adrenaline and disgust had nowhere to go. He kept his ears open for any hints as to when they’d finally reach this mystery destination, because the boredom was beginning to gnaw at him like rats. Eventually one of the trader lackeys came swaggering up to him. Ace had a really good fucking sense for when someone was looking to pick a fight. The guy had a bit of a beer belly and the seediest possible leer, two beady eyes on pallid sailor skin. 

“So this is really him…” he said, gruff and low. “Not bad at all.”

The man tipped his face up at the chin. Ace tossed it out of his hold, ignoring him otherwise. The man chuckled. The only other slaver in the room glanced over and growled. “Careful with the merchandise–”

“Relax,” said the first man, annoyed. “I’m not gonna do anything to damage him– if he behaves, that is. I’m just gonna feed him something.” Gag. It was worse because he was hungry. Ace set his jaw as best he could around the ball gag. If he thought of all the scumbags he’d dealt with up to now, he felt like he could crush anything between his teeth. 

The man wrenched a hand into his hair and jerked him forward. Manacles and chains trapped Ace’s knees on the floor of a cage. The man stood just outside the bars with a taunting look.  “Y’see, Fire Fist, I work hard, and so I’ve got this little game,” he explained, as if Ace gave a shit. “I get a kick out of testing the goods before we get to Marie Geoise. I get a little spin before even the Celestial Dragons get their hands on ‘em.” First, that the trader was already palming his crotch was disgusting, but secondly– Ace closed in on one particular detail. Marie Geoise? For a moment his mouth went slack, saliva pooling beneath the gag. The trader’s grip tightened in Ace’s bath-damp waves, threatening to rip hair from his scalp. His mind was still spinning: Marie Geoise. Celestial Dragons. The last puzzle pieces falling into place. If that was what they were doing, then… “Man, I could talk about it for years if Gold Roger’s son sucked my cock,” the slaver chuckled, letting go of Ace’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

Fuuuuuck. His bounty had always seemed a bit suspect, shooting up when he’d done nothing of note to earn it. In the back of his mind, he’d sometimes wonder if the marines knew. 

 There was a clinking and rustling as the man popped his fly open and lowered his trousers.

 It was so outrageous, so beyond what anyone would have fucking dared to do to him, that Ace only felt a numb sort of shock first. He didn’t want to look at the filthy thing, already hard and eager. Marie Geoise. Celestial Dragons. Gold Roger’s son. The man shuffled closer to the bars, then manhandled Ace’s head low so he could smear the tip on his cheek. Ace’s eyes went wide. The rage hit him right after. “Yeah, a pretty thing like you will need the practice,” the trader drawled. “If the dragons don’t tear you to shreds first. Nasty fucks, them.”  Everyone knew the Celestial Dragons were self-righteous, inhumane sacks of crap who treated anyone else like dirt. Everyone knew that their slaves had it worst of all, beaten and broken with a snowball’s chance in hell of escaping. And it seemed that soon, everyone would know that Ace was Gol D. Roger’s last remaining flesh and blood. “You’re shaking, sweetheart,” the slaver jeered. “A big, bad pirate–? Hilarious. Not so scary without your devil fruit power, are ya?”

Off came the ball gag. The first thing Ace did was spit. A thick, leathery thumb pried into his mouth. Ace sputtered, fought, then bit down– fuck, he was hungry. The man’s glove prevented the drawing of blood, though he did make a small grunt of discomfort and tore his hand away.

 “Don’t need my devil fruit to fuck you up,” Ace hissed. He glared at the dick half a foot away from his face. Ace had sucked a lot of cock in his time. Bigger ones, smaller ones. Sometimes drunk, sometimes as a penalty for losing a bet– fair was fair– but this was something else. The man hunched over to indicate the heavy metal collar around Ace’s neck. Ace felt his spine chill. He missed a few hours ago when he was content to wonder things like when do we get there and where did my necklace go, aw. Marie Geoise meant that the game had changed somewhat.“You know about this? I’m sure someone explained it to you,” he said roughly. His hard, flinty eyes sparkled with glee. “Try to take it off, or even touch it a certain way, and it’ll explode. Splatters your fuckin’ brains on the wall. I’ve seen it before– gruesome stuff. Real shite way to go.” Ace ran his tongue over his teeth, glaring daggers. Not much to look at, though, so he checked around with some choice words in his throat. A few other gagged folks were either watching with bated breath or pointedly looking away. The only other free man in the room was halfway out the door, glancing back like this foul display was only worth an exasperated shake of the head. 

“I see,” Ace said, eyes flicking back. “Brains on the wall, huh.”

“There’s just me and you right now, Ace. Could always say it was an unfortunate accident,” the slaver said. “If you get what I’m saying, then open wide.” Ace resisted as best he could with that steel grip in his hair again. The power of the seastone cuffs had long seeped into his veins, making him sleepy. Gritting his teeth was the most force he could exert– eventually he locked his jaw and stopped struggling. “It’d be easy,” the slaver pressed. He touched anywhere he wanted, hair, lips, freckled cheeks.  Ace hadn’t felt clean to begin with, but now… now he wanted to vomit on this guy’s shoes. “Just one press of a button, one tug of that collar, and boom. World keeps spinning. I can’t imagine anyone would miss scum like you.”

A rough squeeze on either side of his jaw finally forced Ace’s mouth open. With one last grimace, he gave up. Let his tongue hang out. The man’s brutish face softened with satisfaction. Ace loathed allowing even that much.  “That’s more like it, baby,” the slaver crooned, grabbing his cock and jerking it. “Yeah. You play my little game nice, and we’ll keep your head on your shoulders. How’s that sound?” Ace scowled, but he was so visibly tired. This gave way to a slow, slow nod, a sigh– and then his stomach vaulting as he opened his mouth. Again, not the first time he’d had a dick in there. Though there was the chance it’d be his last. The trader moved with concentration, hot flesh sliding past Ace’s open lips. There was a groan, and both meaty hands pawed at Ace’s head. Ace didn’t wait a second. He didn’t suck for an instant. He moved his tongue out of the way and then bit down as hard as he possibly could. The scream was delightful. Nobody could look away after that. 

That beer belly wrenched away from his teeth as quickly as possible, whole body toppling back onto the dirty ship floor. The big idiot shrieked, holding his groin and rolling. 

 Ace had to laugh, then grin again with blood on his teeth. He raised his voice enough to be heard over those wails of pain. 

“Hey, go on and do it, you think I give a shit?” he said, then spat out the taste of iron. He tilted his head back, offering his own capital punishment with brazen ease. “I’ve got my pride. I’d rather die a man than a coward.” 

He got a lively string of expletives in response. Didn’t do the guy much good, since he seemed unable to get off the ground just yet. Ace’s head was still very much attached to his shoulders, for better or worse. 

The screaming was pretty entertaining, or at least Ace’s fellow would-be slaves seemed to think so– he searched for eye contact in the dim light and found a few sure smiles. And a few very worried looks. Well, Ace hadn’t really calculated his odds on this one. 

Morbidly curious, he leaned over to check the damage. From what glimpses he could see– yikes. “Damn, that thing’ll never work again!” he hollered in a pitying, cheerful voice. “Go on, waste me for it. Unless you don’t have the– the balls?” That seemed pretty funny to him at the moment, and he burst out laughing. 

“Should’ve bought me dinner first, asshole!” 

“I’ll fucking kill you–”

“Do it,” Ace goaded. It was impossible to stop himself. Self-preservation had never been a strong point for him. At least, he thought, he’d go out with a good laugh, doing something he loved— picking a fight. With all that blood rushing in his ears, he wanted to believe that he was content with that. 

Better to go down as a free man, without troubling anyone, and before facing a whole world that would know exactly how and why to hate him. 

With a howl of rage, the dickless wonder tried to maneuver onto his knees, get closer to the bars of the cage. Fever-brained, Ace imagined that he’d only have to yank at the collar a certain way to spark whatever demonic mechanism ended in explosions. Truly a shite way to go– not because of the gore, but the injustice. It made him angry. Maybe he’d bite this asshole again. Light cascaded into the darkness from the door. Two other slavers arrived, no doubt summoned by the screaming. The man from before walked over, surveying that Ace was still chained down– he very much was– then he tsk’d at the mess. He nudged the fallen with his boot, cross with disgust and sympathy pain. “I told you this would happen someday,” he said. “Why stick your dick in the bitey part of the pirate?” Ace laughed, breathless. His mouth was so dry that it hurt. The blood hadn’t helped.  Predictably, there was another slew of vicious threats, and Ace was beginning to realize that he’d mentally prepared himself for nothing. Nobody was getting any closer to that kill switch on his collar. 

There wasn’t any relief in that. Just dread, doubled when one of the other slavers spoke again. “Moron, we’re on strict orders to deliver that one to the World Nobles. That’s a done deal– you should’ve known you couldn’t touch–”

Eugh. The stomach ache was back. Ace dipped his head, not wanting to look at any of that anymore. There was some struggling. Whether someone approached the kill switch or not, Ace couldn’t bring himself to care. “You can’t lay a hand on him!” He squeezed his eyes shut. He had been untouchable for a hundred different reasons before all this. And after this, probably, not so much. Marie Geoise. He remembered the rage welling up in him the one or two times he’d seen the deadened-red slave brand on a survivor. Sure, he reminded himself, there were survivors. 

Self-preservation had never been a strong point of his. “Fire Fist, no rations ‘til you’re on death’s fucking door,” came a harsh voice. Ace spat again.  The door slammed shut, leaving the ship’s human cargo in the sparse light of one hanging lamp. Ace breathed out. “Whew. Fuck.” A few good-humored huffs later, he noticed something:

In all the commotion, the slave traders failed to gag him again. Little blessings. Ace breathed– slightly– more easy. 

“Sorry for all the noise, everyone,” he said. In other cages, in other chains, they blinked back at him. He was winding down, but he laughed again, near croaking. “Damn, I hope they’re all stupid enough to try that.” 

Maybe he could take out a few World Nobles that way. Justice for Sabo. He’d probably think that was pretty funny. 

—

It was incredible what you could do by shouting increasingly high numbers.

That was the kind of senseless world the Celestial Dragons inhabited. From his despicable place in the audience and with dread heavy in his gut, Sabo watched the guards yank Ace to his feet and drag him away. Sabo didn’t sit down. The auctioneer’s voice rang in his head: We have a winning bid! Gold Roger’s son, Portgas D. Ace, to Saint Robspierre! Hearing that esteemed name was like a ripple in a pond, a jerk of a trigger. It always took that extra split second for Sabo to remember that that was him, and it had never haunted him quite as much as it did just then. Currents of relief and distress canceled each other out. Sabo felt numb, heart pounding in his ears, knees locked up where he stood. On either side of him, World Nobles lifted their heads to survey him with open disdain. “Congratulations, Saint Robspierre,” a beady-eyed woman simpered, accompanied by her nodding, useless husband. “How fun for you.” “Thank you,” Sabo replied with mechanical ease, a glass smile. He couldn’t be in this space a minute longer. “I think I’ll go look at him.” The perfect balance of civility and entitlement. It was a surprise that this quaint, simple rudeness was more the norm here than not, but he’d adjusted. He felt dozens and dozens of eyes on him as he reached the staircase aisles. He ignored them, shoulders rolled back and head held high. Guards fell into line behind him. Another irritating norm.

He didn’t want an entourage if he was going to meet his brother under circumstances like these. Still, he had to go. For a thousand reasons, he needed to see Ace as soon as possible. That wasn’t slave auction protocol, but he could do whatever he wanted here. Anything except the right thing. * Keeping his face neutral when faced with his long-lost brother was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. He always hated this iciness he had to let in. At the moment even his blood was frozen solid. Of course the World Nobles’ auction house had a room for branding people. Sabo knew this was coming, but his vision was blurring anyway. He didn’t think it would be so soon. He thought he’d have more time. 

Ace was still completely naked with his back to the room. Under grease-shiny dark waves of hair, there was the clear buckled leather of the gag pulled tight. Those seastone cuffs strung him up near spread-eagle. It looked torturous. The painful part hadn’t even started yet. 

Like so many times before, all of Sabo’s fury channeled into his fists. Now, it all felt like too much for mortal knuckles and palms, even with gloves dulling the sensation. It was like his bones creaked. He couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, the red in his vision, Whitebeard’s jolly roger splayed and trembling across his brother’s broad back. He could use Dragon Claw and kill everyone else there. He searched the room for the key to Ace’s cuffs. Maybe he could break them? Even in deep cover, it wasn’t like he’d forgotten how to use armament haki. Escape the auction hall with Ace, and then– Sabo squeezed his eyes shut. And then what? Get the godforsaken “holy” land shut down, with a thousand marines and admirals on their ass? Ace probably wasn’t in the best shape to be thrown into a mess like that. And it would be a mess. His starting plan was less reckless, sure, but there was an increasing chance that it was going to make him throw up, crack open, crack something. 

The branding irons were lined up on the wall. The fire was stoked. The three or so men in the room stiffened up at the sight of him, and lowered their heads in immediate deference. It made Sabo violently ill this time. “You’re going to brand him?” he asked. One of the men lifted his head in a rush. “Saint Robspierre, thank you for the honor of your business–” “Are you going to brand him?” Sabo asked again. It astounded him how out of control he sounded.  But it was nothing worth worrying about when the men ducked their heads again. “No, Sir– of course– he will be branded, but we understand our esteemed clientele like to participate– we were waiting– but of course we can begin at your leisure—”

Infuriating. Sabo glanced over at Ace just to watch the soft heave of his back, the rise and fall that felt like his last tether to sanity. “Quiet,” Sabo said. He needed to think. It often worked to his advantage that people weren’t used to questioning Celestial Dragons on anything. So far removed from humans, indeed. He walked closer to Ace with a knot in his throat, head pounding. His approaching footsteps made Ace struggle again anew, little grunts of protest slipping past the gag. Sabo paused at his side, looking for injuries, half-afraid to look at his face. One glimpse of freckles was enough. Any more and he wasn’t sure his act would hold up. He could question the need for a slave brand, play it like he wanted his new toy just the way it was. Marking Celestial Dragon property was a law, yet laws could be overturned at a whim. The issue was not the rules but the unspoken, sick, crazed rot of this place.

 Mercy was weakness. Empathy was below them. Any significant deviance from the status quo was unacceptable. Any sign of anything abnormal hit the rumor mill and rattled it for days, down a grapevine so tense and maddening that Sabo understood it’d bite him in the ass within hours. 

If he asked to skip the branding, that would only warrant enough unwanted attention to make everything else harder. It was already going to be a tough ask to lay low with the pirate king’s son on a leash– because that was how they’d advertised it, of course, making the Celestial Dragons froth at the mouth with interest. It’d been even worse when they saw him, too, because he was– the wanted posters didn’t do him justice. No, they wanted as little attention as possible.

Sabo turned around. “I’ll do it,” he said simply, carelessly.

“Of course, Sir– if it’s no trouble to you–” He crossed the room, gliding his gloved hand down the pole of black iron with that hateful symbol at the end. Was he really going to do this? It was no question that Ace could handle the pain, Sabo thought. And if it was up to him, he could at least ensure a light touch, a lack of unchecked sadism. It made sense. Unfortunately, it made sense. He’d make it up to Ace no matter what. Beg if he needed to. Ace would understand. Ace would understand, right? “If it pleases this Celestial Dragon,” one of the auction house men said, “you’ll want to hold it over the coals until it is bright red. Press evenly over the skin– just beneath the shoulder blades is customary, Sir.” Sabo searched for the smallest possible brand and took the iron off the wall. It was much lighter than a pipe, yet it felt a thousand times harder to hold. 

“This is your first purchased slave, is it not, Saint Robspierre?” Sabo looked up to tell one of these low-class bastards to fuck off with the small talk, only to freeze in his tense, neutral expression at the joyful look on Saint Martine’s face. Three Celestial Dragons stood in the doorway. Right, Sabo could do anything he wanted under this cover only because all of these soulless elites could do the same. Ace jostled his chains at every end. Sabo even couldn’t imagine how pissed off he was if Sabo was this pissed just breathing the same air as them. Why was this suddenly a party? It seemed much more likely in that moment that he really would kill someone rather than lay a fucking finger on Ace.

This smug-faced World Noble fancied himself on speaking terms with Sabo because of the time they’d spent together. Time that had turned into deals. Deals that had turned into laundering money back to the Revolutionary Army– how smug Sabo had felt when his targets were providing information and resources toward their own downfall. 

It couldn’t come soon enough. “Yes,” Sabo replied. It was like the muscles of his face had a mind of their own: he even managed to smile again. “I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

“I don’t blame you,” one of the nobles chuckled. 

“As long as you share,” sneered another. Her nose wrinkled. “That one deserves every punishment we can think of. I can’t believe they even allowed Roger’s devil spawn to live that long. What was the navy thinking?” 

“Incompetents. Naturally, it falls to us to rid the world of that criminal’s blood.”

“Just sharing air with it is vile, really,” said the old man. The ignorant, cold disgust on their faces made Sabo nearly tremble with rage. “Vermin like that need to pay for every breath it takes until it’s begging for death–” “It would be a waste to rip him to pieces just yet,” Sabo cut in, his voice like steel. He circled haki away from his hands and let his hatred for the Celestial Dragons color his voice. “I’ll be training him first. Trash like this must be made to understand their place.” Sorry, Ace, he thought vehemently. Just a little longer, then you’ll never have to see these fucking people again. In that regard, at least, Ace was the lucky one. The trio laughed. “Of course, Robspierre. With your tastes… I’m surprised you didn’t indulge sooner. But there are finer specimen with… less abhorrent blood.”

Sabo’s blood boiled. He turned. The sight of Ace suffering was tantamount to setting his eyes on fire, but he just focused on that rise and fall. That was what mattered. These rotten bastards could yap all they want, the coddled little dogs that they were, but they weren’t going to so much as touch his brother. 

“But I indulge plenty,” Sabo replied, offering one last tight-lipped smile. He was fairly certain he understood what he was being lobbied for. “When I get bored of him, I’ll keep you all in mind, of course. It’s hardly fair of me to have all of the fun.”   Their mouths curled up. Good. They’d scurry back to their equally rotten friends and maintain Sabo’s reputation. Stay out of his hair for a while until he could figure out how to best ship Ace out of his place.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was about to …” With a heavy exhale, Sabo wandered towards the fire, dull branding iron in hand. “Ooh!” shrilled the woman. “I want to do it.” “He’s mine,” Sabo said icily, stabbing the brand into the coals with a little too much strength. He watched scorching light engulf the metal and wildly lick at the sides of the pit. He imagined the whole of Marie Geoise inside that fire. “Now, now. Sometimes watching is just as rewarding as doing the work,” Saint Martine conversationally told his friends. “And it is Robspierre’s very first time, no?” At this point, it was better to ignore them. He didn’t want this moment to have an audience. He didn’t want it to happen at all. But according to his plan, this was the single big obstacle before he could shelter Ace deep in his assigned estate. Better to get it over with, even with those invasive, beady eyes on him. He was going to throw up if this went on any longer than it had to. He checked that Ace’s gag was still on, that he’d have something to bite into. He quickly surveyed the toned canvas of Ace’s back, taken up so wholly by that skull and bones. Sabo had a lot of curiosity about that– about his brothers in general. Just learning about them would be the privilege of his life if Ace ever opened up to him again. 

  Sabo hadn’t been so nauseated and dizzy in years. The brand was about the size of his fist. Deciding the placement for Ace’s sake was difficult. The chest would hurt. Limbs were too far removed from tradition; it’d be pointless. The jolly roger must’ve been important to Ace, so he had to leave it untarnished. On the shoulders, it’d be painful and harder to hide. 

The chains jangled. He was panting, horribly tense. Sabo winced. That was going to make it hurt worse. 

Get it over with. Sabo squeezed his eyes shut. Ace, I’m sorry. 

It lasted two seconds and felt like an eternity. He had a steady touch. The sound and smell of sizzling flesh repulsed him. His chest throbbed. Knowing that this was a brand meant to imprison the body and soul beyond help, that this was Ace being so crudely violated– it felt like the worst thing Sabo had ever done in his life. 

Ace didn’t scream. At most, there was a deep, clipped groan, almost like a throaty sigh. Sabo quickly removed the iron, frantic eyes scanning over his work. He’d at least succeeded in leaving a lighter touch– the geometric dragon’s claw was a marred light pink on the firm flesh just above his ass and below the small of his back. With any hope, it’d be barely noticeable once it healed.

 Sabo sighed, too. “You can’t be done already,” one of the World Nobles gasped behind him, dripping with sincere disbelief. Celestial Dragons were not just heartless; they were also so petty, having nothing but sick tradition to cling to. “You have to make him scream, Robspierre.” “While we’re at it, melt that filthy pirate insignia off his back–” “Delightful idea– we could also carve it up!” “Why, that mark’s far too light–” “As I said,” Sabo bit out, eyes blazing, “it would be a waste to maim his body before using it. And why darken the mark? Everyone ought to already know he’s a slave. He’s never leaving this place.” 

His throat was near painfully dry. Everyone looked at him with bated breath, shocked by the tension. He’d let his haki slip half on accident. It cramped the room, intimidating every other inhabitant who only had the barest subconscious awareness of it. “When I’m done with him, do as you please,” Sabo said. “But I’ll appreciate complete privacy to better inspect my—“ His voice went too tight; he started again. “You wouldn’t want to miss the rest of the auction, would you?” 

[etraytin]

Just a note to let all the moots and buddies know that my family and I are safe and well after several days completely incommunicado after Helene. I admit to a certain amount of personal arrogance before the storm; I spent all of Thursday working a Red Cross shelter in Swannanoa (Western North Carolina was flooding even before Helene made landfall) and went home to sleep, confident that I would be largely unaffected there and come back to help the actual damaged areas after the storm. I didn’t even fill our goddamned bathtubs, what the hell, past me?

In any case, the storm hit us like the fist of an angry god, and while I was incredibly lucky that my home was spared, the winds caused a huge amount of damage to the power grid, which in turn wiped out water (all wells in my area!) and communications. We were still better off than other more low-lying places, where they got the wind and the water both, to devastating effect. I picked my way carefully back to Swannanoa on Saturday because my entire Red Cross chain of command was a black hole of no comms and this was the last place I’d seen them, but the shelter had been closed and moved because the damage was too extensive. I had to drive around a huge car shed that had been set down in the middle of the highway and past a sinkhole bigger than my van just to get to the place, so it was understandable. The weird thing is, Swannanoa had cell signal so I sat in the parking lot of a closed and washed-out gas station for about an hour just to call our loved ones and try and figure out what had happened to us.

Living in a communications blackout is very interesting and strange. You’d think it would be like rocketing back into the past, but it is not. People had ways of communicating before the internet that have not survived the internet. Radio stations are so rarely local now, and how many of them are actually good at relaying emergency information anymore? The most infuriating of our local stations would offer bumpers promising news and wither, then directing people to their website which we of course could not access. Nobody has landlines anymore to talk on the phone. Even people with “landlines” have digital phones through their cable service, not real telephone lines. Ham radio operators are rarer than hen’s teeth. When I got back from Swannanoa, I walked up and down the very steep hill that is my street, visiting my neighbors and telling them that I had gone to visit the internet and come back with news!

My trip did provide us with an action plan and a route out of town, at least. Only one major road out of Buncombe County was open, and it was the one furthest from us, but we hoped we could do it. Both cars had a third of a tank of gas left, so we picked the one that got better mileage, packed up and crossed our fingers. The evening before we left, we invited all the neighbors over and grilled all the meat in our freezer, now thawed and on the edge of ruin. They brought stuff too and we had chicken, burgers, brats, hot dogs, salmon and shrimp. It was really nice and didn’t break up until dusk when we all had to go home by flashlight. In the morning, we left as soon as it was light, hoping to avoid traffic, and with no maps and a vague idea of where we were going, headed for Charlotte and the modern world. It took us about four hours to go what would have been ninety miles on the normal route, including time waiting in a very long line for gas, but we got to my sister’s house where we got showers and cold drinks and basically just fell into bed.

So that’s how it stands now. We are safe, we are out, we are going back soon even if the power doesn’t come back. The Red Cross still needs me and our house is going to get very yucky all closed up to mildew in the post-storm humidity. We are taking this time to rest up and stock up on supplies and batteries, then it’s back into the void. Please send good wishes our way, and maybe donate to the Red Cross or other orgs working out here because it’s a huge, huge job.

[myx-on-earth]

Content Warning: Landfall Game's April Fools Triumph

For the Content!

It would seem that an April Fools joke of a game has resulted in overnight indie success. Landfall Games, a beloved indie game studio, has a yearly April Fools tradition they call “Landfall Day”, where their devs put together essentially a parody of whatever game is popular at the time. They’ve parodied everything from DayZ to battle royales (Twice, with Totally Accurate Battlegrounds and Knightfall), and this year it would seem it’s Lethal Company’s turn.

Lethal Company is a game known for silly co-op shenanigans that seem to instantly translate into YouTube content- and Content Warning takes that idea and turns it up to 11, making being an influencer a part of the game mechanics. You and a group of friends take a diving bell to “The Old World”, a spooky map filled with monsters and traps entirely for the sake of internet entertainment value. With a single camera and 90 seconds of film, your group has to make the spookiest, funniest video possible- because your only source of income is Spooktube, and that revenue doesn’t come easily.

It's such a brilliant parody of both the horror genre Lethal Company tapped into and the loop of content creation in the internet age that it, somehow, wraps around to being an excellent game in of itself, though Landfall is no stranger to finding gold through satire. Previously, their first battle royale parody (Totally Accurate Battlegrounds, a riff on PUBG) found some success, enough that Landfall turned it into a full venture. It’s not as popular nowadays, but it IS legitimately good- and Content Warning seems to be turning out the same way with its initial popularity and engaging premise.

Typical Content Warning video result, featuring myself, @thatpocketninja, @squiddskipp, and a third friend who requested to remain anonymous

In the space of video game development, April Fools seems to be not so much a “joke” day, but a day that allows ideas to be thrown around that might not otherwise have been considered, which can lead to majorly creative leaps of faith. With examples like the Yakuza series’ pivot to turn-based combat, Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon’s continued success in the midst of a floundering Ubisoft, and even Lilith Walther’s upcoming definitely-not-Bloodborne Kart (now known as Nightmare Kart), the idea of “joke turned legitimate gamedev venture” isn’t exactly new.

I actually had the pleasure of exchanging emails with Hanna Fogelberg (@thebirdmountain on Twitter), Landfall's Head of Community, who provided some insight into Content Warning’s development and the overwhelming response in the interview below.

1. What's it like to go to bed seeing some success, then waking up to find your joke game is a viral hit? Did you expect this at all, given the surprising amount of polish it has?

"We couldn't sleep to tell you the truth! Even if the team said good night at about 2am we kept texting the player numbers to each other throughout the night, we were very wired! We always knew there was the potential of the game going really well, there's something about the design and shareability of the videos you make that we knew could hit it big but it's still surprising it went THIS well."

2. How long did it take to develop Content Warning?

"Content Warning was made in about six weeks of active game development, but the idea came to us back in December!"

3. What were your main inspirations for the game? (Beyond Lethal Company, of course)

“Lethal Company and similar games were an obvious reference for the gameplay loop, we love that game! That said, what was most interesting to us was the core of the game - the filming and video creation. We were inspired by YouTubers and influencer culture, there's something interesting in people risking life and limb for content that we wanted to play off of. 

Other than that, the vibes of The Older World were inspired by Junji Ito and a specific H.R Giger painting while The Over World references the Swedish children's book Pettson och Findus.”

4. How experienced was the dev team?

“We're pretty experienced, the Landfall team has been making games for over 10 years with previous releases being Totally Accurate Battle Simulator, Stick Fight: The Game, Clustertruck and Rounds to mention a few.”

5. How does this experience compare to the last semi-viral success Landfall had with a Landfall Day game? (TABG)

“This game outdid TABG in player numbers several times over! So it's hard to compare, this is by far our most viral hit to date.” 6. Any plans for the future of the game? Or just basic bug fixes and some more content? 

“We will see! Currently, we're focusing on fixing bigger bugs and other issues but we already have some new content planned. We're kind of playing it by ear at this point, it all depends on how things go in the coming weeks.”

Some may attribute Content Warning’s success to multiple factors- the 24 hour free period, how it riffs on Lethal Company and the tropes it already employs, or even that it was “designed to go viral”- but you can’t deny that, even as an iterative piece, it still manages to find its own identity and already seems to have captured the content creation hearts of everyone who gives it a chance. Games like this, that aren’t reliant on micro transactions and are buoyed by the PEOPLE you play with, rather than the money that one must spend on it, are the hope- and, hopefully, the future- of the video games industry. You can find Content Warning (No longer free, but still very cheap!) at the link below: https://store.steampowered.com/app/2881650/Content_Warning/

[anamericangirl]

So where I live in NC is going to get hit pretty severely by Hurricane Helene and we had record breaking amounts of flooding hours before the storm even made landfall in Florida and I’m looking forward to it getting worse lol.

Anyway, because of this, everything i see online is now about Helene or just hurricanes in general and as it’s also close to the (almost) 20 year anniversary of hurricane Katrina (yikes!) I’ve seen people talking about it too and this one girl I saw talking about it was like “how do people not know that hurricane Katrina isn’t what caused the damage to New Orleans and it was in fact the broken levees? It’s been 19 years and people apparently don’t know this!!!”

And I’m just like. Girl. Hurricane Katrina absolutely caused the damage. The broken levees were a problem because there was a hurricane and when they broke it allowed the hurricane to do maximum damage. But like how do you not know that even though the levees broke it was the hurricane that caused the damage?

I’m just trying to sleep and not in the mood for that kind of stupid right now.