#mentally unstable woman airport

[mariacallous]

On Feb. 3, the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority (PTA) blocked Wikipedia nationwide. In its statement before the ban, the PTA said the online encyclopedia had refused to remove “sacrilegious contents” from the website. In 2020, Pakistan had threatened legal action against Google and Wikipedia for “disseminating sacrilegious content,” regarding Islamic beliefs held by minority Muslim sects. And while the ban on Wikipedia was overturned three days later, there’s an evident surge in Pakistan’s anti-blasphemy policymaking targeting Muslim minorities, which in turn is further emboldening Islamist vigilantes.

On Feb. 11, a Muslim man was lynched by a mob in the eastern city of Nankana Sahib over allegations of desecrating the Quran. The victim was killed inside the local police station, with the law enforcement authorities being hapless bystanders. Often, local police are complicit in victimizing individuals and communities once Islamist thugs conjure the accusation of blasphemy. And this thuggery has the backing of the state, which is now expanding its already notorious blasphemy codes.

The Pakistan Penal Code (PPC) was co-opted after Partition in 1947 from the Indian Penal Code (IPC) of 1860, with Sections 295 and 298 dedicated to desecrating worship places and outraging religious sensibilities, respectively. The IPC under British rule added Section 295-A to curtail “deliberate and malicious acts intended to outrage religious feelings.” The original sections, identically present in the IPC, are equally applicable to all religions. In the 1980s, under the Islamist military dictatorship of Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq, Pakistan added Islam-specific clauses, defining violent penalties over blasphemy against Islam alone.

Last month, the National Assembly passed amendments to the PPC to expand its blasphemy laws. One of those amendments, the Criminal Laws (Amendment) Bill, 2023, ups the penalty from three years to life imprisonment for “disrespecting” the companions (including the caliphs), family, or wives of the Prophet Muhammad. The PPC criminalizes any sacrilege against the Quran and the prophet, with penalties including capital punishment.

While Pakistan is yet to execute anyone for sacrilege, its blasphemy laws continue to encourage mob violence; at least 93 people have been killed extrajudicially since 1947—including the most recent victims—and more than 1,500 have been imprisoned since 1987, the year after the death penalty was introduced for heresy against Islam in Section 295 of the PPC. The most high-profile victim of the blasphemy laws was one of their staunchest critics, former Punjab Gov. Salman Taseer, who was gunned down by his security guard Mumtaz Qadri in 2011. Taseer’s killing silenced debate on the blasphemy laws and turned Qadri, executed over terrorism charges in 2016, into a saint, with his tomb turned into a shrine.

Last year, a teacher was attacked and killed by her colleague and students in an all-girls school, a mentally unstable man was stoned to death by a mob, and a man born without arms was drowned, in separate incidents of blasphemy killings.

Last month, a Muslim man threatened to incite mobs against a Christian security officer working at the Karachi airport by accusing her of blasphemy against the prophet after the woman had denied his acquaintance entry into the premises. The brutal killing of Sri Lankan business professional Priyantha Kumara illustrated the menace of Pakistan’s murderous blasphemy laws nearly 15 months ago.

While the blasphemy laws have disproportionately and overwhelmingly harmed non-Muslims in Pakistan, many of those victimized have been Muslims themselves. Sometimes these are individuals targeted for personal vendettas; however, many are Muslims who espouse beliefs deemed divergent from those sanctioned by majoritarian orthodoxy. The man killed for blasphemy in October was killed for expressing devotion at the graves of Sufi saints, a significant tenet of Barelvi Islam that the vast majority of South Asian Muslims have traditionally adhered to.

The ideology of takfir, or excommunicating Muslims, is based on outlawing divergent beliefs and penalizing those deemed guilty per Islamic law, or sharia, with punishments for apostasy that include execution. The takfiri ideology fuels murderous sharia codes and jihadi groups alike. Outfits such as the Islamic State and its Pakistani Taliban affiliates have bombed Sufi shrines over the years, deeming the mystic practices heretical. The Islamic State-orchestrated 2017 bombing at the Lal Shahbaz Qalandar shrine in Sehwan, killing at least 90 people, remains one of the deadliest terrorist attacks in Pakistan’s history.

The Islamic State and the Pakistani Taliban have similarly targeted Shiite mosques across the country, dubbing Shiites, comprising the second-largest sect of Islam, collectively guilty of sacrilege. And the Criminal Laws (Amendment) Bill, 2023, passed last month, is the systematization of this anti-Shiite narrative, which borders on codification of the entire sect’s excommunication.

The new amendments to the blasphemy codes were introduced by Abdul Akbar Chitrali of Jamaat-e-Islami, an Islamist party that espouses radicalism against, among others, Shiite Muslims across South Asia. In the bill’s Statement of Objects and Reasons, Chitrali argues that the current penalty for sacrilege against Muhammad’s companions, unlike the capital punishment for blasphemy against the prophet, is insufficient deterrence, citing the Quranic verse that upholds fitna (mischief or deviance) as “worse than murder.” Following the amendment, Section 298-A of the PPC, which heretofore upheld lighter penalties for any sacrilege of Muhammad’s companions, will henceforth make it a nonbailable offense punishable by life imprisonment.

The amendment passed by the National Assembly is an extension of a bill passed by the Punjab Assembly in 2020, albeit still awaiting the governor’s signature. These laws, in effect, outlaw Shiite beliefs by enforcing Sunni theology and tradition across the population, in turn playing judge, jury, and executioner over a 1,400-year-old Sunni-Shiite split in Islam.

The Sunni-Shiite divide has been militantly fanned by the Saudi-Iranian proxy wars over the past half a century, with Islamabad doing Riyadh’s bidding from the onset. This proliferated Salafi and Deobandi madrassas and propped up the correlated jihadi militias, including anti-Shiite outfits such as Sipah-e-Sahaba Pakistan (SSP) and Lashkar-e-Jhangvi (LeJ). While these groups have militarily gravitated toward the Islamic State and the Pakistani Taliban, their political wings have allied themselves with major parties, especially in Punjab.

The ruling Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N), which has historically dominated Punjab, has done so with the help of SSP and LeJ affiliates such as Ahle Sunnat Wal Jamaat. The PML-N’s rival, Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf party, and its allies have all backed the anti-Shiite legislation designed to uphold Sunni supremacism in Pakistan by making “respect for the caliphs” a rallying cry to woo the sectarian vote bank.

Sunni Islamists strong-arming veneration for their caliphs is an extension of the general Islamist intimidation over any critique of Muhammad, which even Barelvi jihadis have weaponized.

The idea that even those who do not believe in Islamic figures should be coerced into, at the very least, silencing their views so as to not offend the believers is, at best, an antediluvian notion that represses freedoms of belief, conscience, and expression; at worst, it is a tool of bloodthirsty ethnoreligious cleansing. And in Pakistan, this radical Islamist superstructure of jurisprudential takfir, blasphemy vigilantes, and state-sponsored jihad is founded on the fall of the first excommunication domino: the constitutional apostatizing of Ahmadiyya Islam.

Just as Shiites today are being compelled into shunning their beliefs so as to be accepted as Muslims in Pakistan, Ahmadis were forced to do the same vis-à-vis their belief in their sect’s 19th-century founder, Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, via the Second Amendment to the Pakistani Constitution in 1974. The official declaration of Ahmadis as non-Muslims was followed by Sections 298-B and 298-C a decade later, banning the community from “posing as Muslims,” including referring to Islamic literature or expressions, thus making Pakistan the only country in the world where an individual can be imprisoned for reciting the Quran.

This veritable apartheid against Ahmadi Muslims over the past four decades has seen members of the community killed, their mosques vandalized, and graves desecrated. Ahmadis have to be declared non-Muslims for individuals to obtain a passport, exercise the right to vote, or even get a marriage certificate. Among the Wikipedia contents flagged by the PTA are pages on Ahmadiyya Islam.

While Shiites and Ahmadis are subjugated owing to their beliefs, another Muslim minority is targeted owing to their nonbelief: nonbelievers. Fast-growing atheism, agnosticism, and deism among Pakistani Muslims has been met with a state crackdown, especially online. Atheism and apostasy, as an extension of blasphemy, are punishable by death in Pakistan.

Following the enactment of the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act in 2016, the state initiated a war on nonbelief, sending official texts nationwide asking users to notify any form of blasphemy. In 2017, the state promoted a crackdown on dissident bloggers deemed to be posting anti-Islam content online, with the “Pakistani Atheists and Agnostics” Facebook group among those highlighted by the Federal Investigation Agency. With the country’s blasphemy laws going digital, the new expansive codes are going to further stifle online expression in Pakistan, as exemplified by the Wikipedia ban.

The Criminal Laws (Amendment) Bill, 2023 aims to do precisely that: restrict the religious discourse and intimidate Muslim minorities against expressing any contrarian views within Islam, just as non-Muslims have long been silenced into submission over Islam. This, in turn, will encourage vigilantes to expand their hunt for so-called blasphemers, whether in Islamic congregations, university auditoriums, or private WhatsApp chats.

Within a month of the Punjab bill being passed, 42 blasphemy cases were lodged, predominantly against the Shiite community, including against a 3-year-old. The toddler, Syed Fazal Abbas Naqvi, was taken into custody along with his father and uncle, with all of them facing terrorism charges before being released on bail. The Criminal Laws (Amendment) Bill, 2023 has been followed by a spike in Shiite killings in the town of Dera Ismail Khan.

While the financially motivated Arab states that historically spread radical Salafism worldwide are now embracing moderation—even if not free thought in Islam—Pakistan appears to be wholly invested in being the bastion of Sunni fundamentalism and plunging further into takfiri jihadism. With Saudi Arabia expecting Pakistan to toe its line of significant geopolitical moves, such as normalization of ties with Israel, it can ill-afford Islamabad to be bogged down by radical Islamist mobs, which are also expressing condemnations of Saudi Arabia’s ostensible liberalization.

The United States, despite its withdrawal from the region, wouldn’t want a Pakistan that spirals further into radical Islamist disintegration at a time when the Western powers are still mulling the fate of the jihadi takeover in Afghanistan. Pakistan’s devastating economic crisis can further push the United States to condition any economic support to human rights advancements.

The Saudi and U.S. petrodollars that helped sustain Pakistan’s jihadi superstructure in the past are no longer on the table, with barely two weeks’ worth of foreign currency reserves to cover imports currently in the central bank. Global institutions, including the European Parliament, are mulling sanctions over Pakistan’s human rights abuses, especially its grotesque blasphemy laws. Any government expanding these codes in a way that risks increasing global sanctions is clearly not invested in Pakistan’s economic well-being.

Self-sustenance for the country is only possible through a purge of radical Islam at all national tiers, from the constitution to governance to the masochistic security policy. And Pakistan will only truly signal a departure from its jihad-infested past when it sounds the death knell for its blasphemy laws.

[tezlivenews]

एयरपोर्ट पर बिना कपड़ों के महिला को टहलते देख खुली रह गई लोगों की आंखें, पुलिस ने कंबल से ढका और फिर...

एयरपोर्ट पर बिना कपड��ों के महिला को टहलते देख खुली रह गई लोगों की आंखें, पुलिस ने कंबल से ढका और फिर…

महिला एयरपोर्ट पर बिना कपड़ों के घूम रही थी और वहां मौजूद लोगों से बातचीत भी कर रही थी. (फोटो: Twitter/@CBSDenver) अमेरिका (USA) के डेनवर इंटरनेशनल एयरपोर्ट (Denver International Airport) पर एक महिला बिना कपड़ों (Nude Woman) के घूमती नजर आई तो हड़कंप मच गया. लोगों की आंखें खुली की खुली रह गईं. इसके बाद पुलिस ने उसे जल्द से जल्द गिरफ्तार कर लिया. सोशल मीडिया अजीबोगरीब खबरों (Weird News) का भंडार…

[youarejesting]

Sea [1/2]

Beta: @lillielil @aroseforyoongi​ @seokjinssymphony​ @kpooplifeforever​ @explosiveranga​​ & my good friend Z (let me know if I left anyone out.) Rating: 17+ Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, slow burn, slice of life. Words: 6.8k

Summary: After your plane to Korea takes an unexpected detour, you are stranded with someone you aren’t even sure speaks English. As the race begins to stay alive, emotions run high and tempers short. The unlikely contender in the survival race is love which snuck up on you both.

The thought of a thirteen-hour flight didn't bring you much joy. Why would it? Being trapped in a small box with wings, not to mention being stuck in said box with multiple people breathing recycled farts and eating some sort of wet styrofoam they called food that would most definitely give you food poisoning. Oh yes, what a joy it would be to be in a seat for hours on end, letting your skin slowly dry up. 

Arriving at the terminal, you stood waiting for them to start boarding. You would have been sitting if there was a single seat free. Seriously, some asshole had even dared to lay across no less than five and a half seats, his bag resting on the empty chair at the end. 

He was wearing all black and looked comfortable in his jeans and hoodie. His black cap pulled down over his eyes and you could see the bleached blonde hair sticking out from underneath. Big chunky headphones on his ears made it possible for this man to drown out the world around him.

You glared at his legs, growing tired, knowing that within a few hours you would be begging for the chance to stand up. If you were to take a mental count, there hadn’t been any nice experiences you could recall in regards to traveling on a plane.

Did that reflect the quality of service or your standard of air travel? No. Obviously, your standards were realistic, not expecting the flight time any shorter or the staff to give a foot massage or anything outrageous. 

You really didn't want any extra luxuries other than what was offered in the pamphlet — and yes, that meant you chose first-class — because if you were to suffer, you would do so in the best environment.

Unfortunately, the reality of it was that there was no better or more comfortable way to travel. Checking in, you would be boarding first before the other passengers, not really a privilege. However you got in line anyway behind the young man who had previously been lounging across the airport seats. He was holding up the line having lost his passport and you were getting more and more pissed. 

You were simply just having a bad day. 

A woman behind you started openly arguing, exclaiming that this man was not allowed to ride first class as he clearly wasn’t fit for it. Bringing up his style of dress and the headphones around his neck. You turned, glaring daggers at the woman until she became silent. 

Society taught people to judge based on appearance, that everyone fit into a category, never mind the old adage to ‘never judge a book based on it’s cover’. Stil, you were always respectful and treated others equally, maybe even getting to know a person that you wouldn’t in other circumstances. It always surprised you how much you enjoyed taking a risk and getting to know them.

Once you showed your ticket and passport, you traveled down the long hall towards the plane. You saw the man in front of you talking with another man. He seemed to respect him and was reading him a schedule from his phone. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at the young stewardess who welcomed you on board. Her hair was pristine in a tight bun and her crisp, dark blue outfit was paired with a red scarf.

Stepping over the small gap, you felt the cold of the air conditioning, yet the air still felt thick. There were three places you could go to feel this type of cold: the dentist, an airplane, or the movies. First class was spacious with only a single cubicle on either side of the aisle. You took your seat. It was like personal rooms where you could close a sliding screen for more privacy, even though you were sitting next to someone, you wouldn't be able to see them at all.

The seats were more like arm chairs that one could lay back completely in, made with a brilliant blue leather. The cubicle room was complemented in a similar shade but with red features. You had a tv and a tiny minibar that had a small selection of drinks and snacks.

The flight attendants took all the passengers through the safety instructions. You could practically write them at this point. However they added a few things you had never heard. You had never heard such in-depth instructions going beyond the general life jackets, floatation devices, and first aid kits. 

Never before had they told you about the airbags that would be deployed if you crash in the ocean. Apparently the emergency escape slides doubled as floatation devices and could hold up to one hundred and thirty people comfortably. They even explained how they detach these rafts from the fuselage and that they have ropes that allow them to be tied off to each other or the airframe. 

Distracted by a tired male sighing beside you, you wondered who would fall asleep during the safety messages. Sure they were boring, but even you pretended to care. When you turned to see the culprit, he was disappearing behind the plastic divider of his cubicle dragged by his long pale fingers.

Well, at least you had some privacy. It was something you were thankful for, you wanted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as you could.

Perhaps these new instructions and information were deemed irrelevant to domestic flights. Or perhaps it was for the very enthusiastic kid they led through the first class discussing more of the plane's anatomy. “What if a wing falls off?”

“The plane is really sturdy, the wing wouldn’t just fall off” She grinned, “Let’s see what the pilot is doing and we can get your mum a picture wearing the captain's hat!” 

After the flight attendants thanked everyone for listening, the plane took to the sky. You closed up all sides of your cubicle and requested to be only woken for meals. The stewardess was very diligent and for that you were grateful. 

The journey was nearing the six hour mark and all that one could see was clouds and the ocean. The collection of empty water bottles were a poignant reminder to relieve your bladder. 

You stood up and waddled determined to go to the bathroom. It was inconvenient to drink so much water but you didn't want to get dehydrated. 

Feeling much better, you took a few minutes to look in the mirror and moisturise as your skin was feeling particularly dry already. Startled from your self care routine by a light rapping on the door, you packed up your things and pulled open the door. Unfortunately, at that moment, the plane shook.

It was like something from a romance novel, the way you fell against him and yet, there was nothing elegant or poetic in the way you fell against him.

Your face slammed into his chest and his head hit the wall with a heavy thud. "Sorry, I'm sorry"

"Shibal" he said, his language was something unlike you have ever heard, it was rhythmic and sounded like a song. His voice was so low and rumbly it almost sounded like he was purring. 

You weren’t well versed in other languages or cultures, so you didn’t know what he was saying. This was your first time leaving your country. If it wasn’t for the damn holiday raffle at work, you wouldn’t have even left your house. Every other flight you had ever been on was domestic and therefore your suffering was short lived, but this flight was long and you were getting rather bored. It seemed your mind was reeling trying to absorb all that it could and currently that meant the poor man you had body slammed into the wall was under your perusal.

His body was thin unlike yours which was curvaceous. His hair was dark and shaggy making his pale skin almost ghostly. He had sharp cat-like eyes that were quite intimidating as they glared at you and his small downturned lips were yet to speak. He seemed like a man of few words. All this coldness was juxtaposed by his cute round nose. You could tell from his features that he was from Asia, but you couldn't pinpoint where.

Grabbing your shoulders, he started to push you off of him, when the plane shook again and you both fell back into the small bathroom. Your back hit the toilet, and a searing pain bloomed from the impact causing your body to lock up as it radiated through you.

The seat belt light came on. You both scrambled to your feet bumping into the walls, sink and each other from the unstable winds shaking the plane. Struggling back to your seats when the cabin pressure changed. There was a creaking sound and the plane started shaking. You immediately felt a sick sense of dread. The pilot spoke calmly about turbulence and requested everyone return to their seats. But the pair of you couldn't move down the aisle to your seats.

There was a sound like a car backfiring and someone from economy class shouted about the wing being on fire. Your grip on the young man's coat tightened and a terrifying sound like metal groaning filled the cabin. That didn’t sound like regular turbulence, you were sure of that.

Sharing a horrified look with the young man, you got up the courage to try to push off from the wall. Unsuccessful, you were once more pressed against the wall. The plane was plummeting. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the emergency box. What was this emergency and what in that box could fix this situation?

"You need to return to your seats,” the stewardess said. The smell of smoke was strong and it filled the inside of the plane quickly. You hadn’t even seen the stewardess trying to climb through the plane. Her grip strained on the walls and seats as she fought against the force pushing her back. “We are making an emergency landing." 

The metal sound was louder. Shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, it pierced through the cabin. You watched as the side of the plane ripped completely off with the ease of someone removing the plastic off a new fridge. There was a feeling of being weightless before a drop on a roller coaster, and then it was like your stomach was left behind. The stewardess was sucked out from the cabin behind you. 

You and the young Asian man were sliding backwards down the aisle trying to find something to grab onto. The floor in first class was some sort of linoleum and gave you a nasty burn as you slid. It was like fire against your skin. As the pilot fought with the plane, you practically bounced off every seat. 

It felt like you were weightless for a brief moment as you were lifted off the ground, your back hit the roof before you smacked the floor again. All the wind had been knocked out of you. 

The pilots were fighting against the drop, so in the moment of calm before the plummet, you grabbed the leg of an economy class seat as it was bolted to the ground. You looked at the young man, watching the panic as he realized he was too far away to hold on and dangerously close to the large opening. He began slipping out of the plane, his hands flailing before clamping around your ankle. The two of you were almost hanging outside the plane. 

Everyone in economy class was panicking and wearing oxygen masks. No wonder you couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, you cursed yourself for liking all those action movies that made this look easy. 

“Hold on!” You all but screamed more to yourself than the poor guy holding your leg. He was being completely battered by the wind. You felt his hands slipping and you reached down with one hand to grab his wrist and he grabbed yours. He looked thankful.

“Shibal,” he groaned, his voice straining. Your body was being stretched. The cold metal was unforgiving, and it tore apart the skin on your palm. Your eyes were watering in protest to the wind and smoke that was drying them out.

The drink trolley that the stewardesses had been moving through the aisles had gotten loose and went flying down the plane. It hit an old man in the back of the head. You knew he wouldn’t make it, and speaking of, it was headed straight for you. You watched in fear, like some horrifying game of chicken as the trolley came for you. Thankfully, it bounced on the floor inches from your hand and flew out of the plane. 

It was a mix of flinching and the force of the wind that made your hand on the chair slip. You slid further out of the plane, grabbing the exposed shell of the plane with your free hand. Your other hand desperately clutching the young man's hand watching in horror as he smacked into the side of the plane unconscious. “Shit!” 

His body was limp and you had to do something. With all the strength you had, you tried to pull his flailing form closer to protect him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the ocean quickly advancing. You were going to hit the water.

The breeze pressing against you was fierce. Your eyes were dry, making you think of your eyedrops in your carry-on luggage. You could see the water coming up quicker now; you tried to gauge what would be a survivable height. Knowing you had a higher chance of surviving freediving as opposed to hanging halfway from the plane, where you would both slam head first into the plane. You decided to take the leap.

Screaming in absolute terror as you watched the fast approaching water, you let go just in time. It was equivalent to a few stories on a building from the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you pointed yourselves down deciding to break the fall. Lifting your free hand above your head like you were doing a high dive, you hit the water. It was such a shock, the liquid was so cold it caused your muscles to lock up.

Your adrenaline was pumping, and one of your arms felt numb and unresponsive. You swam oddly to the surface, gasping when you felt the air on your skin. He was unconscious, and you held his face out of the water.

The plane wasn't too far away and for now was on the surface of the water. The emergency exit inflatable slide, which doubled as a raft, had been deployed but no survivors seemed to climb out.

You swam in a side stroke to keep your damaged arm and the young man's unconscious form out of the water. You hoped he was going to be okay. The only thought in your head was making it to the raft and you were doing everything in your power to get there, even contemplating leaving him behind. But you weren't going to give up, a part of you wanted to prove you could do it.

Reaching the raft felt euphoric. Taking a deep breath you pushed him into the raft. Doing a quick check of his head and body, you noticed he was breathing oddly. You turned him on his side and tried to clear his airway. A little bit of water trickled out before you performed CPR.  Your saving grace came when he coughed and spluttered, placing him in the recovery position and hoping he would be okay on his own for a moment. You looked around for any more survivors. There was luggage floating around, and you picked up all you could from the water. 

Walking along the inflatable back into the plane, the water was not as high in first class. This was probably due to the hole in the plane in the economy. The right side being the only one of the inflatables that had inflated beside the plane. Keeping the plane precariously afloat balancing on two inflatables which had malfunctioned and inflated under the plane.

Moving quickly and wading through the icy water, you grabbed the emergency kits on the wall. You had passed by deceased passengers and tried not to look. It was eerie and unbelievable even though it had only just happened.

Bags littered the water and you guided them towards the exit and put them on the raft. You could save these people's possessions for their family, or there could be items inside that could be of use and save your life. 

You also noticed the flight attendant area and raided the cupboards as quickly as you could. You grabbed the medical kit, some slippers, a range of very thin blankets that were wet and even some snacks carrying everything back to the floatation rafts. As an afterthought you braved a second trip back into the plane to grab your and the other man’s overhead luggage as you knew he would likely appreciate it.

Finding a bunch of cell phones floating around the cabin. You grabbed them all hoping one would be waterproof. You found a few that were still turned on, but only one seemed to have some sort of signal. The plane creaked as you started making the emergency call. 

“Come on” you begged the phone to connect. The whole plane creaked again and tilted; it wouldn’t last long. You had desperately searched for survivors but there was no one obviously alive. You tried your best to check their vitals, but time was running out. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be cursed for pronouncing everyone dead.

"Hello, this is an emergency service hotline?" A voice cut through the silence, you looked at the phone about to cry in relief "fire, ambulance or police"

"Hello, we were in a plane crash, my name is y/n, we were on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul"

"What is your location?" the woman said, confused by your description.

"The ocean" you hissed "we are on a life raft"

"How many people are with you, what are their names?"

"Just one. I don't know his name. He is asian. Um really thin, um, has dark hair and—”

"You seem to be breaking up" the emergency operator said with the voice cutting out. You looked down at the phone in your hand and sighed. Of course, if everything was going wrong, a phone in the middle of the ocean apparently won’t save you. You thought to yourself, ‘it is 2021 so why isn’t service available everywhere?’ Pocketing the phone you began making your way out the plane.

You headed back to the inflatable and made the decision to cut the plane free. Scared that it would bring the raft down with it. Grabbing more luggage from the water, you thought it best not to watch the plane sink. It would only make you feel worse.

The time went by slowly. It took hours for the plane to disappear. Even though you had promised yourself not to look, you had. Taking glances as the plane slowly sank and you drifted further away. 

The moment the plane was no longer in sight, you curled up and let the tears fall. The sun began setting and the heat turned into a bitter cold. Your wrist was still quite swollen, and you decided to wrap it as you drifted along. You had been so sure that there would be something or someone to see you drifting, and you would be saved. 

However one cold night became two, and then three, only breaking for the scorching heat of the day. 

You thanked yourself for watching all those ‘lost on an island’ movies and television shows; you had learned some things along the way. You also had your father to thank for always dragging you along to the volunteer emergency services programs, ones where you learned how to survive in a forest. At the time you thought it was super lame for your friends to go to nice hotels by the beach for their holidays and you were making some sort of mealworm dish while making stick shelters.

Going over the information you had in your head, you knew water was the priority. The instructor had said humans can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air. 

The sun would dehydrate you quickly. You had made a small shelter with luggage and blankets to protect you from the sun. 

If you didn’t find land, you were going to have to make some sort of man-made evaporation device to create water. As it was, you were slowly getting the unconscious young man to drink little amounts of bottled water, for he too needed to stay hydrated. 

The man you were with had awoken the third day. He seemed a little freaked out about being alone at sea. You explained calmly, not wanting him to do anything drastic and he sat there processing things. 

You gave him a bottle of water and something to eat. The two of you continued drifting, not speaking a word to one another. You spent most of the time trying to craft something to float on the ocean and create clean drinking water. 

(This evaporation device floats on the ocean and mimics rain by the water droplets sticking to the plastic cover over the whole device when weighted in the middle it then drips back down into a bottle. I can find a reference picture if you need. [Here] [Here] [This one is like what I made in 7th grade camp])

But you couldn’t get the water to land in the bottle and the bottle to stay upright. He was no help, just laying in the shelter out of the sun. The raft was big enough for about one hundred and thirty people. And yet, the two of you sat close by and didn’t say a word.

You were covered in sweat and felt absolutely disgusting. It was time for you to get changed. What a stupid way to die, not from dehydration, or malnourishment, or even sun exposure, but from lack of hygiene. It was decided. 

“I am getting changed, don’t look,” you breathed, opening your carry-on bag.

“I don’t want look,” he muttered back in English and turned away. You quickly put on something that covered your shoulders and tried getting some rest. You didn't want to alarm him, but you both had consumed the last of the water and food rations.

It was late that night when you heard a different sound. The raft was moving a lot more. These were big waves and a part of you hoped it was not a tsunami or whale activity.

When the sound got louder, you were reminded of the beach when waves crashed on the sand. Looking up, you saw something big approaching. It was a body of land. Suddenly, your chances of survival greatly increased, now that you had a way to get out of the water. Nervous about putting your hands in the pitch black water, you looked at your companion peacefully sleeping and made the decision to paddle slowly. Anything to increase your chances of getting to safety. You eventually washed up on the beach, arms aching and stepped out to drag the raft onto the sand.

It was late and still dark, but you had to do something. Thinking that perhaps if you found someone, you would both be saved straight away. You waited on the raft until the sky lightened, and then you got to work collecting sticks and starting a small fire. You took the empty water bottles, hoping to find a clean water source or some fresh water that you could boil.

You walked to the highest point in sight, not seeing any signs of large predatory animals was a good sign. When you reached the top, you felt a sense of satisfaction as you had overcome the many trials and tribulations. You made it through a plane crash, survived on the water, and made it to land. 

Looking around, you saw something bone-chilling. This was an island and judging by the lack of people, houses or establishments, it was uninhabited. There was no civilization to be seen. You saw the tufts of smoke from your fire and tried not to cry. You were stuck here until someone could rescue you. 

Pushing the minor breakdown aside, you thought about water, it was important. Scanning the island, there seemed to be a small waterfall and tiny lagoon at the bottom. Since the rain, the waterfall was running pretty fiercely. You mapped out a path back to the beach which would detour past the waterfall.

By the time you reached the beach, your arms were exhausted with the weight of the now filled water bottles. He was awake and briskly brushing his reddened cheeks with his sleeves, turning his back to you. Sympathising with the man who probably thought you died, fell overboard or abandoned him.

You pulled out the metal pot from the plane and began boiling the water, in an attempt to kill any bacteria in it. The tide was going out. you knew you should be thinking about food as the next priority, but you wanted to sleep. Being primarily awake for a few days was taking its toll.

It took everything in you to get yourself to move and get to work. Taking large rocks, you carried them into the water until you were knee-deep. You were building a V- shaped wall, so when the tide came in, it brought with it fish and when the tide went out, they would be trapped. 

Pouring the now cooled water into the bottles, you started thinking about your plan. First, you thought about short-term needs, in case you were rescued soon, and then long-term needs, in the event you weren’t rescued for months or perhaps years. You paused, forcing yourself to think and accept the fact that there was a chance you would never be rescued.

The Asian man had gotten up and looked around hopefully. Handing him a now clean and sterile bottle of water, you frowned looking around with him. "There is no one here." He didn't say a word, staring at you while drinking slowly.

You huffed, trying to figure out how you two could survive on an island. He watched you fuss around trying to make a shelter out of sticks but it collapsed everytime. 

“Just no,” he muttered. You tried not to openly sneer at him. Grabbing the raft, you dragged it across the sand. As the raft was built for a large group, it seemed all you were doing was digging your feet into the sand. But little by little it was dragged up the beach thanks to the tide. It took some convincing but you had gotten help from the young man. The two of you madly struggling to lift the inflatable slide to a tilt against a tree. It was still inflated so you hoped you could use it for something else if needed.

Before the tide came in that evening, you ran out to the water. Your hopes were crushed when you found no fish and saw that the wall had broken. Carrying more large rocks into the water and making the V bigger and stronger, things weren't looking great, but you were trying to do your best. Cold from splashing around in the water, you went back to the shelter, but the fire had gone out by this point. 

Looking at the young man, you let out an exasperated sigh. Did he not care for his life or yours? Contemplating while gathering more wood, you realized that you had been doing all the work, while he was just lazing around. “We need more wood, come help,” you gestured for the young man to follow, but he sneered at the thought and leaned away from you.

“I just lay uh here and wait to…” he thought over his words, slowly forming an English sentence “die or be rescue,” he mumbled. You were too exhausted to argue. It could wait until tomorrow, and you would both freeze tonight. Maybe then he would understand the importance of working together towards a goal.

You felt absolutely disgusting. hearing the loud patter of rain, you walked down the length of the shelter. On one side was the raft, and on the other was the luggage, built into a wall. You took out some clean clothes and stepped into the rain. Peeling off your seawater and sweat drenched clothes, you stood in the dark and tried washing your body with a tiny travel soap you had found in a bag. 

You scrubbed your body of sweat and turned back to the shelter. Grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around your body, you stepped inside. He was laying on the makeshift bed you had prepared. He looked over, and when he saw you just in a towel, he rolled away. It was embarrassing, you who loved privacy and comfort were showering all exposed in the rain and getting changed in the same vicinity as a stranger. That night, he took the only dry blanket, so you laid there with wet hair and damp skin, shivering. 

You were thankful for the sun rising, and it took a few minutes for you to thaw enough to move, but when you did, you deemed it time for him to do some work. The two of you gathered sticks and leaves. He barely helped, and when he got back, he laid back down and fell asleep in the shelter.

Building a fire, with the wood, took some time as it had rained the night before. The leaves helped fuel the flames. The fire didn't have to be amazing, you just needed it for warmth. You also hoped some rescue teams might even see the faint smoke.

At the sound of your stomach calling for sustenance you got up and went to check the rock wall you made and found a fish swimming in the shallow water. You grinned, carrying it back making sure to stoke the fire. You were doing your absolute best with the emergency kit knife.

You must have looked pitiful, as your companion took over, filleting the fish with ease, and he even cooked it. The two of you had fish for breakfast and you felt satiated. You took some of the supplies and got ready to set out for food and fresh water. He was dressed and trying to follow you, so you let him carry some of the empty bottles.

Except he wasn't cut out for endurance, he got winded quickly. It reminded you of the time you passed out during a school marathon. Yet you made the best of the situation that you could, walking slowly until you came across some sort of fruit that the birds were eating.

You took a couple of pieces of rotten fruit and then carefully dug up the small plant and began carrying it back. He followed you back. You placed the plant down. Using your hands you tried to shift the dirt until you had a decent hole where you could plant the little fruit tree. Watering it with some of the water you had collected from the lagoon, internally wishing the plant would flourish. It was hard pouring the fresh water on the plant but you had to if you wanted food.

You mapped out an area and put sticks in the ground in a box-shape, in hopes of starting a garden of any edible plants found throughout the island.

You took the old fruit you collected off the ground, put it around the bottom of the tree, and gave a small hopeful sigh. “Hopefully it will break down in the soil and feed the plant. Our fate is in your hands little plant”

You spent another night sleeping in the makeshift shelter and had to decide on what to do, so you sat up and turned to the young man.

"Hey, are you awake?" He sat up, his eyes narrow, "what do we build? Shelter? or a garden for food?"

He blinked before choosing "Shelter?” you giggled at his confusion, not trying to be rude. He knew more English than you knew Korean and that was definitely a feat.

“A home”

“Home, food later" he shrugged

It rained heavier, bringing with it a sense of sadness. There was no one waiting for you, no one looking for you. The tears began falling and you tried to stifle the sounds. He was still and you hoped he didn’t hear the breakdown. You hoped he was sound asleep as this seemed to be his skill. You were sadly mistaken; he wasn’t asleep. He moved and draped a blanket over you. He only drifted off when you exhausted yourself from crying.

Waking up with your back pressed to his back, the two of you had shared a few airplane blankets. Your body was aching, from sleeping on the ground. It was time to build the shelter both of you had been discussing. You needed someplace safe from the elements and a place with some sort of makeshift bed. Sand felt so soft, but was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Standing in the morning breeze, you began thinking: “How does one even build a house?” If people can make houses with only the land, then so could you. You had no excuse.if it didn’t work, you could try again until you figured it out. You knew there should be some sort of foundation. You could build between two trees, or with a big pillar in the middle, or four walls like a traditional home. Whatever you were going to do, you needed the materials, namely wood, but it’s not like you could just rip a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. You needed tools. Unfortunately, this island didn’t have a hardware store. This wasn’t like minecraft; you couldn’t just create perfect tools from nothing. Or, could you?

You got to work trying to make some sort of mock Stone Age axe. It gave you blisters, but you had successfully chopped a single tree down. Getting the hang of chopping the trees with your primitive tool, you had four trees ready on the seventh day. You dug holes in the sand, but it wasn’t holding the trunks at all. They kept toppling over. He told you it wouldn’t work, and you only huffed in response. 

You would have to dig, until you found harder ground. This took another week, but you had four tree trunks in the ground in a modest square. You had started feeling dizzy while working, and your head felt clouded. It had been raining ever since you arrived, every night and lightly throughout the day, you didn’t think you had felt warm in a few days.

While making a wall frame out of trees, you started to feel dizzy again. You tied together the thin logs with multiple vines, and you hoped they would stay. The more you worked, the more your hands got torn up. 

You were tying the last of the frame, when you felt your body grow heavy. You were so tired. You thought you would die by the hands of the lazy man. With that, all other thoughts left you as the darkness crept in. 

The shelter was warm. There was a fire, and the blankets were wrapped around you, keeping you warm. Beside you was a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers. “Fever,” he sighed, “all work makes you uh… quick death?”

“Well, at least I am doing something. I have kept you alive, in the plane, in the water and now. I have done everything and what have you done other than act arrogant and lazy?” You said, “You haven’t even told me your name. We are stranded on an island. Maybe we will be rescued tomorrow, and it will be all in vain but what if it’s not tomorrow? What if it's months or a year from now?”

“What if never safe?” He argued, not looking at you.

“The point is, I don’t want to die in my twenties. I don’t want to die in general. I had dreams, to get married, have a family and be a loving wife. I was working a stupid office job, and I loved it. I won’t give up that dream. I will live with the hope that one day we will be rescued, and I will keep us alive goddamn it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have no care. I was not… supposed be on the plane.”

“I need you alive. I can’t do this on my own. If-” You took a deep breath, “If you die, I might do something stupid. I can’t live an undetermined number of days on my own”

He went quiet. 

“Think about someone else for a change, it’s not all about you, Mister Asshole.”

“Yoongi,” he mumbled

“What?” You asked, too tired to be mad.

“My name is Yoongi.” He left the shelter, and you were left sobbing in the dark.

You woke up to Yoongi cooking fish on the fire; you were not expecting it. He hadn’t really done anything to help you. He mostly sat around, but the two of you ate together before you got to work. It was after a few hours you noticed Yoongi was gone again. It disheartened you that he was off doing whatever again, while you were working. You were completely exasperated by the young man, he maddened you, always on your mind. He was hot and mysterious and you hate that you couldn’t stop thinking about him because he acted nice once.

You began opening the suitcases hoping you wouldn’t offend anyone by going through personal belongings of the deceased. Clothes in all different sizes mens and womens, all different styles and one suitcase broke you, filled with tiny onesies and cloth diapers, dummies and ointments and medicines for a tiny baby. A pretty purple rattle with a cute butterfly on the handle.

You slammed the suitcase shut and pushed it across the sand to look at another day but for now you needed to step aside, the wound was too fresh. These were real people who died and yet why did you two survive, the most unlikely pairing with the worst odds and yet you survived when countless innocent lives were lost. It wasn’t fair.

A few days had passed, and you were trying to create something sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain with a roof and walls. You had plenty of resources, but you had to pick the right ones that would last. 

You thought about it and decided to use the raft to line the inside of the house in the tarp-like material. It was super long, so you could do the roof and the four walls and still have the whole underside left over. You would weave leaves and sticks together to make them sturdier and layer them on the outside. 

Putting your plan to action seemed easy yet tedious. You collected long palm leaves, removed the spines, and weaved the leaves tightly together, and laid them on the floor. The more you weaved, the faster you got. Painstakingly working every day, you rejoiced when all four walls, roof, and floor were finished and stable.

While you were doing all this, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. He returned at night, as he always did. He looked unbothered by all the work you had accomplished that day. You finished up, and the two of you ate and went to bed, which was just a collection of woven leaf mats covered in some of the leftover tarp from the raft.

You had moved the items from the shelter into the new house area. The two of you sat on the remaining raft fabric. “I made a bed out of leaf mats and covered it in the leftover material.” 

Yoongi seemed impressed looking around, “잘 했어.”

“Jal haess-eo?” you repeated the sounds “What does that mean?”

“Uh… good work” He took your hands and pulled out a small succulent leave from his pocket snapping it and squeezing out the liquid inside. Applying it to the cuts and scratches on your hands gently. You noticed his hands were rough too, for he had cuts and blisters littering the his palms as well. 

“Where did you find aloe vera?” you asked curiously. What had he been doing?

“Near the…” he made an action with his hand “폭포”

“The what?” You laughed, and he cracked a slight smile.

“Water shaaaa!” he made the sound and gesture of water falling. You laughed hysterically. He was so cute, when you got to know him.

��Waterfall?” you prompted, checking that was what he had meant.

“Ah waterfall!” he nodded, “Near the waterfall”

“What did you call it?” you said. You were genuinely interested. He had been trying his best to communicate with you in your language, so maybe you could learn some of his to ease the burden “Pog-o”

“폭포” he corrected. 

“Pogpo” You smiled at him. he seemed a little happy that you were giving his language a try. “How do you say good night?”

“안녕히 주무세요” he said and you blinked shocked, so he grinned,speaking slower in syllables “Ann-yeong-hi ju-mu-se-yo.”

“Annyeonghi,” you repeated. He seemed eager to teach you more, so you stayed up as long as you could, learning Korean phrases until you both fell asleep.

[Part 2/2] coming soon...

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[jemej3m]

Aaron takes the mental health course part of pre med (is that a thing?) and starts recognizing Andrew grounding himself, having an episode, etc

bruhhhhh 

bruuhhh

*

Aaron winced as his son sprinted for the door, yelling the whole way. The twins knew that their uncle was coming to visit and were absolutely ecstatic about it. A well-known fact amongst the old Foxes and their children was that Andrew was very, very good with kids. 

Well, Aaron conceded. Andrew wasn’t good with them. He just didn’t even have to try: they loved him right off the bat. And barring the slight furrow in his brows whenever one of Aaron’s twins or Kevin’s spawn whined ‘please!’, he didn’t seem to mind being around them, either. 

His son was jumping for the doorhandle excitedly, so Aaron put his hand atop of his head and stilled him before swinging the door open. 

Andrew was much the same. They were aging the same way, albeit the slight muscular composition difference. Andrew’s teeth were a little more yellow, though he’d given up smoking a few years ago, and Aaron had reading glasses tucked into the collar of his shirt. Other than that, they were just as similar as they always had been. 

“Hey,” Aaron said, but his son was already yelling and jumping and tugging on Andrew’s hand. Andrew’s lips nearly twitched into a smile. Nearly. 

Once his bags were deposited and shoes tucked into a corner, Katelyn handed him a mug of cocoa and they all sat on the couch as the kids regaled their uncle with stories of preschool and their neighbour’s new dog and how Dad had found them in the bathroom with craft scissors, which was why Aaron’s son had such a short haircut now. 

Katelyn got them settled for bed soon after: Andrew had arrived relatively late in the evening, just in time for ‘adult dinner’. 

“How was the flight?” Aaron asked, taking a dish of potatoes out of the oven. 

Andrew hummed into his glass of wine. “Miserable.” 

Aaron had known for quite a while Andrew’s deliberating fear of heights, ever since the Foxes had taken a reunion trip to Hawaii a few years ago. When his wife hustled back into the kitchen, Andrew nodded at her and she smiled back. Aaron felt something odd in his chest. Andrew had been very tolerant of Katelyn lately. He assumed it was the kids’ doing. 

They ate dinner quietly. Katelyn chattered about the kids, and their medical placements. Andrew asked about their specialties. 

Aaron stared at the plate. Katelyn nudged his shoulder. 

“Right.” He glanced up. “I’m not sure. What I want to choose, that is. It’s between surgery or psychiatry.” 

Andrew hummed. “Psychiatry.” 

Aaron shrugged. He’d done a lot of mental health work throughout his postgraduate degree. It just seemed to make sense that he’d go into that field. It takes one to know one, and all that. “What do you think?”

Andrew just arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“Well, yes,” Aaron said, tone a little frigid. Drake’s trial had been a public debacle, but it was Dr Richmond Proust that Aaron couldn’t get out of his head. It was during their fourth year when the news had come on about a psychiatrist at Easthaven being exposed for forceful sexual conduct with patients. Andrew hadn’t spoken to anyone but Neil for a week, and then disappeared for another two when Waterhouse asked him to stand witness to Proust’s trial. 

“Psychiatry is glorified drug dealing,” Andrew decided, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork. He paused, then shrugged. “Could probably do with a bit of Minyard fuckery, though.”

Aaron was finally able to read Andrew’s subtext though: that was the biggest compliment he’d ever get. Unable to bite down a smile, he said “I thought so, too.” 

His brother simply hummed. 

The rest of dinner passed quietly. Andrew had three of Katelyn’s triple fudge brownies and sent a photo of them to Kevin, just to piss him off. The evening slowed down with a nightcap in front of the news, Katelyn heading to bed early. She’d agreed to take the kids to their daycare in Aaron’s stead so that he could have breakfast with his brother alone.

Aaron was just about to turn in for the night when Andrew’s phone rang. Andrew squinted at the unknown number, mouth turned down: he could remember everyone’s phone numbers, and this was clearly one he didn’t recognise.  

He rose the phone to his ear. The slight frown disappeared and transformed into a blank stare, something far deadlier. Aaron hadn’t seen him wear it since college. 

“When,” Andrew snapped, gripping the phone so hard Aaron thought it would break. The voice continued. “And you only thought to call me now? I’m his next-of-kin.” Aaron froze. 

Eventually, Andrew hung up, holding the phone midair as his eyes glossed over. 

“Andrew?” 

“Neil got in a head-on collision,” he mumbled. 

“Dead?”

“Unstable.” 

“I’ll book you a flight.”

Andrew wasn’t moving. When Aaron saw a flush rise in his cheeks, he realised Andrew wasn’t breathing, either. Shit. Shit. His brother was having a fucking meltdown. Goddammit, next time Aaron saw Neil he was going to strangle him. 

He got off the couch and crouched down in front of Andrew, careful not to touch him. “Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t move. 

“Hey, Andrew.” Aaron stood up a little more so that they were eye level. “Andrew, you need to breathe. Okay? If you’re going to go make sure Neil’s okay, I need you to breathe.” 

Andrew finally looked at him. He was angry. Terrified. Aaron couldn’t really tell: his gaze was like looking into a void, pupils blown wide. 

Calming someone down was a lot simpler when Aaron didn’t know them. This was like walking a tightrope of barbed wire over an alligator-infested pit. 

“Can I have your phone? I’m going to book you a flight. Okay? Nod if you can hear me.”

Andrew nodded but didn’t relinquish the phone. Aaron grit his teeth. 

“Andrew. It’s going to be okay. He’s unstable, but he’ll make it. He’s always made it. He’s impossible to kill, right?” 

“I hate him,” Andrew mumbled. 

“I know. Can I use your phone?” 

Andrew dropped the phone into Aaron’s hand and dropped his head into his hands, utterly still. His breathing went all ragged and choppy. 

There was a springy voice on the other end of the line. “Hello, this is the service desk for Terminal 1 domestic, how can I -?”

“I need a flight for Denver as soon as you can,” Aaron snapped. “It’s an emergency. When’s the next available one? I’m willing to pay whatever’s necessary.” 

“Oh,” the woman sputtered. “Um, there’s a red-eye leaving in an hour, but there’s only first-class left - ”

“That’s fine. Please book it for Andrew Minyard. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” 

“Sir, I really can’t - wait, Andrew Minyard? Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” 

“Alright,” she allowed. “Okay. If you can make it to this desk in 25 minutes, I’ll have a seat for you, Mr Minyard.”

Aaron hung up. “Andrew, we need to go.” 

Andrew’s breathing sped up, fingers digging into his hair and pulling hard enough to rip it out. Aaron’s chest began to ache, watching as the sleeves of his shirt fell down to reveal the black armbands, still everpresent after all these years. 

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “Are you with me, Andrew?”

Andrew glanced up slightly, glaring at Aaron’s collarbone. 

“All you need to do is breathe. Neil is okay. He’s going to be okay. You’ll see him soon, alright?” 

Aaron tapped his hand gently on his knee, palm down for four counts, then holding his fist closed for eight counts, then palm up for four counts. Andrew slowly began to breathe in time with his hand, chest heaving as he inhaled through his teeth. 

It took a while, but Aaron watched him slowly come back to his senses. His hands slipped over his eyes once his breathing was steady, kneading at his temples. 

“I’ll drive you to the airport,” Aaron said. 

“Okay,” Andrew rasped. 

*

“Babe,” Katelyn whispered. “Your phone is going off.”  

Aaron blinked his eyes open, glaring at the ceiling. Why’d he been up so late? 

Oh. Right. 

He blindly reached out for his phone. 

Most of it was the Foxes going mad, but there in the midst of chaos, was Andrew’s number. 

he’s going to be ok. thank you.

Aaron sighed, oddly relieved. He didn’t like Neil Josten one bit, but it would’ve been a slight hiccup if he’d died. 

good, he said, texting blindly without his glasses. don’t mention it.

trust me, his brother texted back. I won’t.

*

nawww twinyards!

[kk095]

Crash Landing

This story is a little different, but I hope everyone enjoys it! There may be some typos, so I may have to correct them at some point. Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

*****

Matt and Suzie were a happy couple who tied the knot 2 years ago, and have been together for 5 years. Matt was a 30 year old white man with longish brown hair that was neat and well maintained. He stood at 5’10 with a slim build, had blue eyes that were behind a pair of glasses since he didn’t like contact lenses, but it gave him a nerdy look, which Suzie was into. Matt had a decent paying job, but it was the stereotypical bland, corporate type job that was totally unfulfilling. But outside of his monotonous work life, Matt was a pilot and even had his own small plane that he recently fixed up.

Suzie was a 28 year old white woman with wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skinned since she was of Italian descent on her mom’s side of the family. Suzie stood at 5’7 with a slender build, had bright white teeth that always made her smile stand out, didn’t have any tattoos but had piercings in her ears and belly button, and looked a bit young for her age. Suzie worked as a CNA in a nursing home in the next town over and hoped to go back to school to be an RN someday. Suzie was a conventionally attractive woman who many thought was out of Matt's league, but she was surprisingly down to earth and a generally pleasant person to be around.

The couple’s 2nd wedding anniversary came up, and Matt decided to take Suzie out for a ride on the plane, and then go out to a nice dinner afterwards. Suzie always thought Matt’s passion for flying to be interesting, and genuinely enjoyed going on plane rides with him. It’s a great opportunity to have quality 1 on 1 time and see the world from a different angle. Suzie has even tried to convince Matt to apply to be a commercial airline pilot, but Matt was never interested. He always felt that he’d lose his passion for flying if he did it for a living.

It was around 3:45pm when they took off that day. It was a cool, overcast day with a slight breeze, but no rain or fog, which is detrimental to flying- especially in a small plane like Matt’s. It took about 15 to 20 minutes to reach the air traffic controller’s suggested cruising altitude. There were beautiful, unobstructed views from that height, and the only noise was from the small plane’s propellers and the occasional check in from air traffic control. Out the left window, you could see miles and miles of ocean and out the right and front windows, you could see the beach and the town below.

The couple had a nice time together, but things began to change just as Matt headed back towards the airport. “This is tower 1. Check your altimeter reading. Our radar is saying you’re well above your aircraft’s ceiling.” A male voice said over the radio. Matt looked at the altimeter- which was many of the confusing looking meters in the cockpit. This particular device measures the aircraft’s altitude and the angle it’s traveling at, and has to be reset before every takeoff to ensure it’s working properly; it’s arguably one of the most important instruments that a pilot needs. Matt takes a look at the device and says “everything looks good on my end.” There’s a slight pause before the air traffic controller says “could be a radar miscue, but keep us posted the rest of the way.” Matt agrees and continues flying back towards the airport.

About 5 minutes later, the nose of the plane began pointing down slightly. Matt pulls back on the wheel, trying to point the plane back up but instead, the exact opposite starts to happen. The plane continues heading downwards, dropping several hundred feet in a short period. “is everything ok babe? Just a little drop?” Suzie asks, sensing something isn’t quite right. “I dunno. It’s like the plane doesn’t have any lift, but that shouldn’t happen at this altitude.” Matt says, trying to figure out which correction procedure to start. Matt struggled over the ensuing minutes to stabilize the aircraft’s angle, and a nosedive began. “fuck… we’re stalling!” Matt shouts urgently, realizing the problem too late. Suzie buckles up her seatbelt and white knuckles her armrests. She begins breathing heavily as she watches her husband struggle to fix the problem. “Matt…are we gonna be ok?” she asks, scared. Matt says something inaudible under his breath as he continues to frantically ameliorate their nose dive.

When their altitude decreased a bit and lift wasn’t re-established, the aircraft began to spin while continuing its plummet to the earth. Suzie closed her eyes tightly, squeezing the arm rests with all her might. “please don’t crash. Please don’t crash…” she thought to herself. While the aircraft was spinning, Matt’s glasses flew off his head and were tossed elsewhere in the aircraft. Matt began navigating the aircraft towards a vacant lot off in the distance for an emergency landing. “ok hun, this is gonna be a rough landing, but I need you to keep your eyes shut and be strong for me.” Matt says, nervous himself. Suzie nods and tells Matt she loves him, but begins to feel queasy from the aircraft’s erratic spinning.

Matt began to make preparation for a crash landing. This is something he’s trained for, but never in a million years expected to have to perform. During the aircraft’s descent, Matt was able to point the nose of the aircraft up so the bottom side of the plane would make contact with the ground. While Matt achieved the correct angle for an emergency landing and opened landing gear, he had trouble reducing speed.

What felt like seconds later, the bottom of the plane made contact with the ground in the vacant lot mentioned earlier. The plane bounced violently several times while still going forward. Suzie screamed as she was bounced around a little. The plane bounced several times, eventually ending up in a rocky area of the lot. The already violent landing because even more turbulent. Matt was shaken around quite extensively, hitting his head and neck multiple times against his seat and other surfaces. A rock flew up through the front window after being kicked up by the propeller. The rock was hurled right at Matt’s forehead and a tremendous speed, killing him instantly.

Finally, the aircraft came to an abrupt stop about a quarter mile or so after touching down. Suzie awoke minutes later after being knocked out herself. Her eyes opened slowly, and was a but groggy at first, but quickly regained her mental faculties. Her brown eyes scanned the scene out her window. She could see smoldering pieces of metal and fragments of the plane scattered across the dirt and rock covered area. “matt?” she asks before looking over at him. His face was battered and bloody from glass, the rock, and also had bruises from being thrown around. He was hard to recognize at that point, which visibly upset Suzie. “matt? MATT?!” she said, shaking him, to which she received no response. “MATT!” she screamed, realizing he wasn’t breathing- or alive for that matter. “oh my god… oh no… this isn’t happening…” she said to herself out loud, beginning to cry.

Sirens could already be heard off in the distance, with multiple reports of a plane crash being called into 911. Suzie began sobbing, holding her newly deceased husband’s hand, waiting for emergency personnel to arrive. Suzie felt a pain in her lower abdomen from the seatbelt locking up and pressing her abdomen. She also had a slight headache and felt a little nauseous, but had enough adrenaline and endorphins pumping through her to make her injuries feel tolerable.

The police department were first to arrive on scene. A female officer scurries over to the plane. “we have 2 victims- 1 male 1 female. Male is deceased and female is awake and alert.” She’s heard saying into her radio. “HE’S NOT DEAD. HE CAN’T BE! YOU GOTTA HELP HIM!” Suzie cries to the female officer. The cop tries to change the subject and talk about her injuries. “can you tell me where it hurts miss? The ambulance is almost here.” The cop says. “Matt’s dead…” Suzie cries out, not answering the officer’s question.

The fire department and ambulance arrives to the crash site about 2 minutes later. The fire department hooks up their hose to a fire extinguisher nearby and put out the small handful of fires nearby. 2 medics head over towards the plane and manage to open up the side door. “hi ma’am, we’re with Bristol County EMS. Can you tell me your name?” a female medic asks softly. “um…suzie. Suzie Carter. My husband’s Matt. Is he ok?!”suzie replied. The Male medic went to the opposite side and checked on matt. He felt for a carotid pulse, checked for respirations, and checked his pupils with a pen light. Matt was pulseless, not breathing, and had fixed and dilated pupils. The male medic discreetly shook his head at the female one, indicating Matt was a goner. “Matt? Is he ok? Is he dead?!” suzie cried out, panicked. “he’s in rough shape, but we have to focus on you for now, ok?” the male medic said, trying to reason with Suzie. The female medic placed a c-collar on Suzie and snipped the seatbelt with scissors. The medic then cut off Susie’s top, only sparing her black bra. “that’s a nasty looking bruise on your belly. Does it hurt?” the female medic asked. “um… kinda" suzie replied. The medic began palpating Suzie’s abdomen. “AHH!” Suzie yelped, wincing in pain. “abdomen’s stiff and rigid with point tenderness.” The female medic relays to the other. “what does that mean?” suzie asks. “it means you hurt your belly and we need to get you checked out at the hospital, alright?” the male medic said calmly.

Suzie is removed from the destroyed aircraft and placed onto a backboard and stretcher. The medics set up a portable heart monitor, which read unstable vitals: BP 90/55, heart rate 131 BPM, and a pulse ox of 95%. 2 large bore IVs were set up, and fluid resuscitation began. A dose of pain meds and a dose of valium were pushed do calm Suzie down in the ambulance.

In the ambulance, further examination began. Suzie's right forearm was broken, and she had a bump on her head. The female medic shined a pen light into Suzie's eyes to see if there was a head injury, but her pupils were equal and reactive. Suzie’s jeans were snipped off and her shoes were taken off, leaving her barefoot and half naked on the backboard with her bra and matching underwear only being spared. “ok Suzie, can you wiggle your toes for me?” the medic asked. “uh huh.” Suzie responded. Suzie's slender toes which were painted with black nail polish, remained perfectly still. “ok Suzie, let’s do it again.” The medic said. Once again, her toes remained still. “ok, good job.” The medic said, realizing a spinal cord injury was within the realm of possibilities. The medic then placed and o2 mask onto Suzie's face and just monitored her vitals the rest of the way.

Upon arrival to the ER, Suzie was lifted onto the trauma room table under the big overhead light while the medics rattled off information to the trauma team. “Hi Suzie, can you tell me if you passed out during the accident?” a veteran nurse asked softly. “I don’t remember.” Suzie said. “I’ll take that as a yes.” The nurse replied. Trauma labs were drawn and blood transfusions began while the attending called out orders. Chest x-rays and a FAST scan were performed. The x-ray showed a complex fracture of the right ulna, requiring surgical intervention to repair, a vertebra fracture at the L3 level, and a partially collapsed right lung. The FAST scan came back clean for the chest and pelvis, but there was a serious non-specific bleeding in the abdomen. “page ortho and surgery. I want a head, chest, abdomen CT. And let’s do a right chest tube while we’re at it.” The attending barked to his subordinates.

Suzie screamed and yelped in pain during the chest tube insertion since she was wide awake, but her o2 stats went up markedly once the tube’s placement was confirmed. A blanket was placed over her torso and she was wheeled over to radiology for a CT scan. The scan showed a small brain bleed that was thought to dissipate on its own. The spinal cord injury was confirmed, and it didn’t seem very promising since there was damage to the spine itself. In all likelihood, Suzie would be paralyzed from the waist down. The abdominal bleeding source wasn’t able to be located on the CT scan, so it was decided that she would be taken to the operating room for an exploratory laparotomy.

After being whisked upstairs into the OR, Suzie was quickly prepped for surgery. She was sedated and intubated with a 7.5 ET tube, with the tube being secured with a blue tube holder. Her belly was sterilized with betadine, staining it a brownish orange color. A midline incision was made in the attractive brunette's belly. The skin separated with ease from the sharp scalpel blade. The underlying fat, connective tissue, and muscle was cut through to expose the abdomen. A rush of blood came out of the incision upon entrance to the abdominal cavity, but before retractors could be placed. Suction was applied to the area, but it didn’t help. The retractors were placed and the opening was created. The area had to be suctioned, but it became apparent that there was extensive bleeding. The liver, spleen, IVC, and aorta were all intact, so the originally suspected culprits were ruled out. The surgical team then began the tedious task of searching through the bowel loops and mesenchymal area for injuries.

During the tedious search, Suzie's blood pressure began dropping. More blood products were hung and vasopressors were pushed, but that was simply a band aid meant to buy some time. After 2 more minutes of unsuccessful probing and prodding, Suzie’s vitals began to plummet rapidly. Meds were pushed, but she became pulseless. The abdominal surgery was paused temporarily and chest compressions were started. Suzie’s chest caved in repeatedly as it was pounded away by one of the nurses. Her perky, B cup breasts bounced and jiggled in sync with each of the compressions. On the heart monitors, PEA was displayed. Epi and atropine were injected intravenously in an attempt to obtain a shockable rhythm.

After a few cycles of unsuccessful chest compressions, the lead surgeon decided to look for the bleed once again. Suction had to he applied once more, but the doctor found a bleed in one of the mesenteric veins. A vascular clamp was placed in the meantime until the vessel could be ligated. Blood still accumulated in the abdomen, so it appeared another vessel was severed in the vicinity. While going through more bowel loops, there was significant bruising and swelling in the jejunum. Another bleed was located in a deeper mesenteric vein, and that vessel was subsequently clamped off. No additional blood accumulated in the abdomen, so it appeared all bleeding sources have been located. In the meantime, the code ensued. A 2nd round of drugs were pushed and more blood products were hung from the rapid infuser.

Finally, the monitors showed v-fib. The defibrillator paddles were gelled and charged to 200j. The defibs were then pressed up against Suzie's bare chest as everyone stepped away from the table in anticipation of the shock. Suzie’s body jolted abruptly in response to the shock, but she remained in v-fib. Chest compressions were resumed while the paddles were being readied. A moment later, a 300j shock was delivered. Suzie’s lifeless body reacted more noticeably from the stronger shock. Her back arched slightly and thrust her chest upwards, jiggling her b cup breasts. Suzie wasn’t shocked out of v-fib, so life saving efforts resumed. A nurse took over chest compressions, pumping away at the 28 year old's chest while the defibs were being recharged to 360j. The next shock was delivered about 30 seconds later, causing Suzie’s feet to leap up above the table and slam back down a second later, showing off the thick, prominent handful of wrinkles in her size 8.5 soles. Luckily, this shock converted the attractive brunette to sinus bradycardia, and surgery could continue.

The rest of the surgery was touch and go, but the OR team managed to maintain a pulse. The 2 severed mesenteric veins were successfully ligated and proper blood drainage was restored to the intestines, but post operative monitoring for blood clots was important. Next, orthopedics began their end of the surgery. Suzie’s fractured ulna was surgically reduced with a small rod and pins that were inserted directly into the bone. Lumbar fusion surgery of the L3-L4 space was performed to reduce motion in the area and prevent additional damage to the spinal cord itself.

After the surgery, Suzie was transferred to the ICU for careful monitoring. She remained sedated and intubated, but switched over to a ventilator. A catheter and central line were placed, and antibiotics were added to her cocktail of medicines since her abdomen was open for almost 5 hours. Suzie's parents and older sister arrived at the hospital about an hour and a half earlier, and were waiting in a private waiting room together.

“How is she?!” Suzie’s mom asked the trauma surgeon, teary eyed as soon as he entered the room. “she’s in the ICU and in pretty rough shape. She sustained some major internal bleeding during surgery and her heart stopped beating for 6 minutes- we were lucky to get her back. She also sustained a spinal cord injury, and it’s very possible she’ll be paralyzed from the waist down. She has a moderate head injury we're monitoring, and she also suffered a badly broken arm in the crash. I’m very sorry ma’am” the trauma surgeon said. “paralyzed?!” her mom asked, beginning to cry again. The doctor paused, then sighed before continuing. “yes ma’am. The spinal cord injury she sustained is quite serious, so it’s very possible she’ll be paralyzed. Best case scenario, she’ll have major issues with mobility.” The family paused, taking all of the bad news in. “I wanna see her.” The mom demanded. “I can take you up to see her, but I warn you- she’s sedated and hooked up to a breathing ventilator. She’s gonna look pretty beat up, so please keep that in mind, ok?” The surgeon said.

The surgeon escorts the 3 family members up to the ICU. “oh god…my poor baby…” the mom cries out, almost falling to her knees after seeing Suzie hooked up to a ventilator and connected to other equipment. Suzie was covered in abrasions, her chest was bruised from CPR, there was a large bandage on her belly covering up the closed incision, the bump on her head appeared to have gotten a little bigger, her complexion was a ghastly pale, and she was cool to the touch. Suzie’s BP and heart rate were stabilizing, but her chest tube had to be fixed a bit after surgery since it was knocked loose from the resuscitation efforts.

She remained relatively stable for the next handful of hours, but there were some changes that occurred around 3am. Her blood pressure dropped again, and her medication dosage was upped. But at 3:30, Suzie began having a seizure. Her body twitched and thrashed involuntarily on the bed as her family watched in horror. “help! SOMEONE HELP!” Suzie’s sister shouted, attracting a nurse’s attention. A few nurses and the doctor entered the room. Lorazepam was pushed intravenously to control the seizure, but it was discovered that her right pupil was blown and the left pupil was constricted. 2 minutes later, the seizure was controlled and Suzie was taken back down to radiology for a repeat head CT.

The scan showed that her brain was swelling, and that raised a major red flag with the doctors. Since her head injury had a delayed reaction that required additional care, she was taken back up to the OR to have an intracranial pressure monitor placed.

A portion of her head was shaved and the small, hairless patch was sterilized with betadine. Once the area was cleaned, an electric drill was used to create a small opening in the skull. After the opening was made, a small pressure sensitive monitor was calibrated and fed into the hole, and constant intracranial pressure monitoring began. Initially, Suzie’s ICP reading was 12mm/Hg, which is abnormal, but still below the threshold for further intervention. Anything above 0 is abnormal, but 15-20 is considered dangerous, and anything above 20 is typically fatal since the brain herniates at that point. Suzie was taken back to the ICU after the procedure was completed.

Over the next few hours, Suzie’s ICP readings increased 16 mm/Hg. At that point, the ICU team decided to put Suzie into a medically induced coma in an attempt to prevent further brain swelling and give her body a chance to recover.

Throughout the day, Suzie only showed signs of getting worse despite the doctor’s best interventions. Her ICP monitor was displaying 17 mm/Hg, but her pupils were fixed and dilated. After a neurology consult and an eeg, it was determined that Suzie was brain dead. The attending physician delivered the bad news to Suzie’s family, and they decided to remove her from the ventilator. Suzie was surrounded by her family and was pronounced dead at 8:21am.

After the ICU team gave her family a chance to grieve and say goodbye, they went into the room and began removing equipment from her battered, lifeless body. The EKG electrodes were disconnected, the IVs were removed, all monitors were shut off, and her body was covered up, only leaving her feet exposed. A toe tag was filled out and placed. The tag dangled in front of Suzie’s wrinkly soles as she was taken to the hospital morgue.

Suzie’s cause of death was determined to be brain herniation from the head injury she sustained. The brain injury was moderate at first, but had a delayed onset and grew progressively worse. The cause of the plane crash was investigated over the following weeks, and the cause was determined to be calibrating the altimeter wrong, and ended up at a higher altitude than the plane was made to fly in, so the plane stalled. Overall, this was a preventable accident that led to the deaths of 2 young people.

[legionnaireslover]

WTF is this???

On Gator's blog this morning...

"Fans r generally disappointed w him" ... umm, NO! Just the Haters are "disappointed" (re: frothing at the mouth butthurt and jealous of his wife).

"His "unusual" family life"... again, NO! There is NOTHING unusual about BC'S family life. He fell in love with a woman who he had known for quite some time as a friend and the have made 2 little boys and a third baby on the way. Nothing unusual - lots of married people have children.

"I'm a BIT disappointed myself"... a "bit"?!?!? How about completely obsessed and delusional about it!

"How about saying "Yay, he's alone" maybe he is moving towards separation"... umm, NO! on so MANY levels! First, the fact that he shows up in an airport pap pix doesn't mean he's alone (lots of times Sophie and their children haven't been papped and yet have traveled with him). Second, even if they didn't travel with him this time DOESN'T MEAN HE'S MOVING TOWARD A SEPARATION. It means they didn't come with him for any number of reasons - maybe Sophie is too far along with her PREGNANCY, or maybe one of the children is sick, or maybe his schedule is just too hectic and so they just stayed home this time.

And lastly, it is soooo wrong of a view to think that is a typical reaction of the Haters... since when do they mildly "cheer" BC on about ANYTHING??? What they do REPEATEDLY is harangue, insult, bully, demand and denegrate BC, his wife AND his children (Gator is practically the originator of this type of behaviour ffs!), so any hater calling out others for their TYPICAL HATER REACTION THIS TIME is the height of hypocrisy! They have spent YEARS reacting exactly like this... so what's with this big puzzlement, calling out all of a sudden? WTF indeed! EDIT: I POSTED THIS AT FIRST NOT KNOWING THAT MURPHYSMOM HAD SENT IT TO GATOR. Here's Gator's Gator's lame-ass reply -

"@murphysmom67, believe me, I totally understand what you are saying. It’s one thing to not want to get your hopes up that he’s doing the right thing, but some seem to take pleasure in mocking him. But that is because they choose not believe he’s an abuse victim. They don’t want to even think that things are deeper than just a badly handled showmance. They have to keep it light, for some reason. I sometimes wonder why the feel like that, but at the end of the day, it’s their choice. And the truth may never come out, so we may never know what really went down. It’s just very hard for those of us who see ALL of the signs of NPD and abuse to understand how others cannot or will not see it."

My response... well, dear Gator, the way I see it ALL haters take pleasure in mocking BC, including yourself, when you stubbornly refuse to accept the reality that Ben is married and has a family of his own. You also haven't got a moral leg to stand on when you all continue to insult and spread complete falsehoods about Sophie Cumberbatch. And lastly the ONLY one who appears to be in a mentally unstable state of mind and exhibits classic signs of a narcissist personality is your good buddy Aeltri.

[orlando-fl-daily-2-blog]

Orlando FL Daily

History of Tourism Industry

Even before Disneyland was built, the city was already a popular resort destination in the 1920’s. But the tourism industry boomed when Walt Disney announced his plans to build the Disney World. The flocking of tourists was even intensified with the establishment of the Orlando Jetport, the predecessor of the international airport. Today, the city is the playground of both kids and the kids-at-heart. Numerous theme parks have been built that attract more tourists in the area. Seaworld, Universal Studios, Legoland, Fun Spot America Theme parks are some of the top destinations of tourists. The flocking of people in the area led to the massive increase in land prices and cost of living.

The Virga Law Firm, P.A.

The Virga Law firm has 40 years of combined experience in family legal matters. Along with the founder and his associate lawyers, the law firm handles all cases related to divorce such as mediation, child custody, child support, alimony, annulment, domestic violence, and a lot more. They also accept legal service related to landlord and tenant matters, bankruptcy, criminal defense and insurance claims. With the dedicated and compassionate legal professionals, you have the assurance that you are in good hands. They all work together to help you achieve your desired outcome in the soonest possible time. Afterall, as the adage says, justice delayed is justice denied. They try their very best to deliver results in a timely manner.

Deaths of 2 at Audubon Park home a murder-suicide, Orlando police say

Authorities were called to the 3500 block of Finch Street about 9:30 a.m. after reports of gunfire, and found two residents of the home dead inside, OPD said. An initial investigation shows Jonathan P. Restey, 48, shot a 49-year-old woman before turning the gun on himself, agency spokesman Sgt. Eduardo Bernal said in an email. Citing Marsy’s Law, a victims’ rights amendment to Florida’s constitution voters approved last year, Bernal said OPD is not releasing the name of the woman “at the request of the family.” Read more here

Another case of murder followed by the suicide of the suspect adds to the growing number of crimes of passion in Orlando. The latest involves previous histories of domestic violence between a man and a woman. Although police authorities will not reveal the name of the victim, it can be assumed that they are husband and wife. Research shows that crimes of this type involve a mentally unstable person. The suicide is the perpetrator’s way of escaping state punishment, a self-punishment due to their guilt or a way of preventing future pain and suffering. Statistics show that most cases happen between lovers where male is often the offender.

Universal Studios Florida in Orlando FL

Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida is another world-class attraction in the city. It is one of the many Universal Studios theme parks found around the world. The park opened in 1990 and since then, it has received millions of visitors from all over the word. It features various thrilling rides and live entertainment. The attractions are adaptations from actual films like ET Adventure, Transformers, Back to the Future, Despicable Me, Shrek and many more. It also partners with other studios to feature other characters like Barney, The Simpsons, Ghostbusters and Animal Planet. The whole park has a total of 8 themed areas all waiting to be discovered on your visit.

Link to map

Driving Direction

26 min (17.5 miles)

via I-4 E

Fastest route, the usual traffic

Universal Studios Florida

6300 Universal Blvd, Orlando, FL 32819, USA

Get on I-4 E from Universal Blvd

5 min (1.4 mi)

Follow I-4 E to Maitland Blvd in Maitland. Take exit 90B W from I-4 E

16 min (14.3 mi)

Continue on Maitland Blvd to your destination

5 min (1.7 mi)

The Virga Law Firm, P.A.

1800 Pembrook Dr #160

Orlando FL 32810

[redspiderling]

MCU Breakdown: Trying to forget Age of Ultron is something that happened Part 2 of 3

And I’m back for the 2nd level of Hell. And yes, I broke it into 3 parts, because I was venting for so long, tumblr couldn’t catch up with me. 

I’m terribly sorry it took me so long to wrap my head around writing this but honestly, this movie makes me so mad.

I will point out once again that this post is Brutasha-critical. Again, not because I have anything against that particular ship -or any ship in general- it’s just that as a Black Widow fan, I am of the opinion that the way the relationship developed in Age of Ultron was not believable, and it was unfair and out of character for both Natasha and Bruce, which is why I don’t like it.

Is anyone ready for this? No? Doesn’t matter, I’m here, you’re here, lets get this show on the road.

So, last time we saw Natasha, Marvel would have us think she is reconsidering her right to be an Avenger, because of what was done to her when she was young, and because of what she did as a child assassin and as a brainwashed  spy for USSR. 

Marvel also had us think that Natasha was seeking to get into a relationship with Bruce Banner, because she thought that loving another “monster” was the kind of love that she deserved, the kind of love she could reach for. 

To be fair, considering the note the film ended on, I’d bet good money they were not sure exactly where they were going with the relationship.

In any case, I call bullshit on both those accounts btw, and I will explain why in excruciating detail. 

Bruce -according to the MCU- was experimenting with gamma radiation, in an attempt to recreate the super soldier serum.He experimented on himself, and was turned into a creature that has no control over its actions and represented his inner anger and helplessness, feelings he carried into adulthood because of the abuse he suffered through as a child.

He still struggles to deal with the aftermath of his actions, and with his control over the beast that is the Hulk. He is out of balance and -quite naturally- is unsure, paranoid, volatile and vulnerable. He chooses to stay out of fights because he is not always in control of himself and his actions.

Natasha, after years of being under the control of others, has finally gained her freedom. She is not obliged to follow anyone's orders, and yet she chooses to be the hero and save the day, under a sense of obligation to the world, in an attempt to redeem herself for her actions. 

She is aware of her weaknesses and strengths, has control over her feelings and actions, and yet while she knowingly chose to be who she is, after reliving those painful memories she is made to think herself unworthy of her position in a team of superheroes.

Can someone please point out the similarities between the two? Can someone tell me why a competent and stable individual who is following a long road of redemption like Natasha, would think she only deserves the love of a man who -while a perfectly good person- is unstable and has a lot of issues to resolve, just to get to a point where he is ok with himself?

And don’t misunderstand me, I would have no objection if it was a I fell in love with you while we were pulling a prank on Stark one lazy Sunday morning kind of thing. It is the whole “we are both monsters so we should be together” mentality I firmly object over. Natasha and Bruce are not alike. 

The fact that this film draws parallels between Natasha and Bruce is an unfair, sexist and out of character treatment of Natasha, and the fact that the scriptwriters thought her as such, and wrote her as thinking of herself as such, without ever rectifying that statement during the course of the film is fucking sexist.

You don’t believe me? You think calling this treatment sexist is extreme? Let me get a bit out of subject and I will give you another example. 

When Tony talked Bruce into making Ultron, does anyone remember what he said to him?

And yet, what is the outcome of their science? They create a murder bot, kill thousands of people and they almost destroy the planet.

Lets talk now about the repercussions of their actions. 

Tony, a white, male, multi-billionaire, is never prosecuted. Even after the Accords are in place, even after Iron Man breaks the rules he put in place time and again, Tony Stark is never prosecuted. NEVER.

On  the other hand:

> When Natasha lets Steve go after the airport fight, she is considered an enemy of state and she becomes an outlaw. 

> When Natasha released all her secrets on the internet in order to destroy the nazi HYDRA/SHIELD, the work of another powered white male, she is put on trial.

What were people saying about Marvel not being sexist?

And lets not forget Bruce. Bruce has issues to work through, which is understandable, but what I get from all this, is that Bruce actually did run away, he did hide so deep in himself, Hulk was allowed to roam free for years, and Bruce had 0 control over him.

AoU isn’t fair on him either, because his character had a much different journey to go through, one of self-acceptance, and mixing it up with Natasha’s damaged both of their story-lines.

I find Bruce’s journey of self-discovery admirable, and it was satisfying to see him slowly working it out at the end of Thor: Ragnarok, and I liked the Infinity War Bruce a lot. 

He let go of a lot of the burden he carried around, but the point is, Bruce never paid for his mistakes, and in the end he wasn’t able to do the heroic thing during the Age of Ultron story-line, he wanted to run.

(Why we had to go through an entire movie just for them to realize that hey, we are in different phases in life and we want different things is beyond me.)

Case in point: Natasha -unlike her male counterparts- is constantly called into account for everything that happens, and she has paid dearly for things out of her control, and she still chooses to be the hero time and again. Natasha has an endless supply of courage and inner-strength, she knows who she is, what she can do, and she puts all these things to good use. She deserves better than to be made to think that she is a monster, or that she doesn’t deserve to be an Avenger. Especially not when Iron Man gets to kill without repercussions and I will say this now: 

If today’s Natasha, our self-assured master assassin, the heroic individual she has always been, who has achieved inner peace and has created deep connections of friendship and camaraderie with various characters, is pushed back to the Age of Ultron lovesick puppy story-line in Infinity War 2, I’m done, done, with the MCU.

Fucking sexists.

To get over this fucking scene, ok, I understand that the whole female reproduction system failure/I am a monster narrative was actually not written in parallel. Natasha’s point was that the people who tortured her were so sick, they actually took away a part of herself in order to achieve their goals. That doesn’t mean that said scene is not controversial, and it also doesn’t eradicate the fact that Age of Ultron tells us that the only thing that would make a woman run away from a life of abuse and crime would be a child, which is a sexist and immoral assumption, not to mention erroneous in so many ways, it is a completely separate discussion. 

Stay tuned for the next part!

Links:

AoU Breakdown Part 3

AoU Breakdown Part 1

Civil War Breakdown 

[aion-rsa]

Marcella Season 3 Ending Explained: Murders, Money and the Mystery Caller

https://ift.tt/3reIvwU

Warning: contains major spoilers for Marcella season 3 episodes 1-8, available to stream now on ITV Hub.

From London working mum to Belfast gangster’s moll to international multi-millionaire in just three seasons. That’s some trajectory. Other TV detectives must look at Marcella Backland and ask, where’s my new alias and private plane? 

It’s not coming, Sarge, because unlike Marcella, your show insists on complying with the merest demands of naturalism and coherence. You plod on drearily in an approximation of the real world while Marcella does screaming naked cartwheels through story, Etch-a-Sketch erasing bits of plot, and leaping gazelle-like from one improbable thing to the next. Other crime dramas didn’t realise that untethering entirely from sense was an option. 

Marcella realised, and the result is season three – a take on mental illness so clumsy it’ll have you reappraising the subtle qualities of some bricks. What happens, the new run asked, when you take a detective with dissociative identity disorder and make her take on a new identity for work? She’ll go nutso, right?! Right. 

Add that to an already-irresponsible storyline about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, throw in a compulsive hand-washer reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night, and you’re ready to call house on a full bingo card of mental illness cliché.

If Anna Friel wasn’t so good at her job, Marcella would be unwatchable. Her thoroughgoing commitment to this creaky fairground ride of a crime drama makes it unusually compelling. You watch it like you might watch an increasingly loud drunk on another table in the pub: just to see what it’ll do next.  

It might do a fourth season next, though one hasn’t yet been announced. The season three ending left things open for a fourth go around for our unstable lead – now with millions in stolen gangster cash, an orphaned baby and a new fringe. Should one be required, the wonky stage is set for the return of DS Backland/Keira Devlin/Miss Hart. If Marcella doesn’t return, then that bloodbath of a finale and its mysterious coda was our last goodbye. 

The Mystery Caller

The season’s final shot showed an unanswered cordless phone ringing off on the table of a bar at a private airport in an unknown country. Now going by new alias “Miss Hart”, our lead had taken the call and then hung up on it when a voice asked for Marcella Backland. Who was calling? A cop? DI Rav Sangha? Marcella herself, putting on a voice? (As likely as anything with this show.) 

To judge by the age of baby Katy, some time had passed since the death of the Maguire siblings and the airport scene. Last we’d seen Marcella, she was driving away from the Maguire mansion with baby Katy, having belatedly called for back-up and reported multiple fatalities and an officer (DI Rav) down. Those fatalities in full: Stacey Barratt (nee Maguire), shot dead by her brother Finn; Rory Maguire, shot dead by his sister Stacey in revenge for ordering the murder of her husband Bobby Barrett; Finn Maguire, shot dead by Marcella Backland in her undercover guise as Keira Devlin; Jack Healy, stabbed by Frank Young; and Frank Young, shot by Jack Healy. 

Is Rav dead?

Also seriously wounded in the Maguire bloodbath was DI Rav Sangha, who’d come to Belfast to investigate Bobby Barrett for the murder of the son of the UK Foreign Secretary, when he stumbled across Frank and Marcella’s undercover operation targeting the Maguires. Finn Maguire shot Rav, Marcella shot Finn, and then – as we’d seen in a flash-forward episode earlier – she stood over his bleeding body and said “I told you to walk away”. Did Rav die? 

Perhaps, but if you look again at the montage of corpses shown later in the finale, every single dead body is shown apart from Rav’s, which indicates that he might have made it.

The Maguires’ Millions

Before driving off with baby Katy, Marcella took a knife to the corpse of Rory Maguire and cut out one of his eyes. She used it to get past the retinal scan security on his private laptop so that she could transfer the balance of the Maguire family’s ill-gotten funds to another account, over 24 million in sterling. Showing Katherine Maguire – who was unable to move or speak due to a stroke – what she was doing, Marcella drained the account, saying the money was for Katy and it’s what her mother Stacey would have wanted. 

What happened to Katherine Maguire?

Presumably she was found when the police responded to Marcella’s call for back-up. Due to her second stroke, Katherine was unable to speak or move, so would have had a hard time telling the police that Marcella had kidnapped her grandchild. It wouldn’t have been impossible though.

Was Frank really running an undercover unit?

If he was, some serious questions about probity would have had to be raised at his next annual appraisal. When Frank Young approached Marcella at the end of season two, he told her that he worked in a department with season one character DCI Laura Porter, played by Nina Sosanya. They could use a dead police officer to go undercover, he told our lead. The undercover training we saw Frank subject Marcella to in episode six though, had nothing official about it. He used highly dubious methods to encourage a vulnerable, unstable woman to lose her real self in a fictitious persona, and then exploited her to carry out a personal revenge plan.

Read more

TV

Marcella Season 3 Episodes 1 & 2 Review

By Louisa Mellor

TV

Marcella Season 2 Recap: the Ending, the Killer and Where Next for Season 3?

By Louisa Mellor

Frank did seem to have access to official police systems, which suggests he was acting in a police capacity. When Marcella sent him the addresses and phone numbers found in the belongings of the dead Vietnamese people-trafficking victims, those addresses were duly raided by the police. There was also an official record of his undercover operation against the Maguires, as stumbled upon by DI Rav Sangha during his investigation of the Bobby Barrett murder case. Frank also had entry to a police computer system where he faked the existence of disgraced cop DS Keira Devlin, later seen by Rory Maguire. 

On that same computer system, Marcella discovered that Frank was lying about his wife and daughter living halfway across the world.

What happened to Frank’s wife and daughter? 

They were killed in a Belfast restaurant that was firebombed in 2010 by the Maguires as part of a turf war with rival gang the Callaghans. Frank also would have been killed if he’d arrived at the restaurant on time. He set up the undercover operation and put Marcella in place to get revenge on the Maguire family. At the end of episode two, when Frank was seen talking to a mystery companion on a bench about the operation, we can assume he was talking to his dead wife Sally. A scene later in the season showed him in the fire-blackened restaurant, drinking and ‘talking’ to Sally about his plan. 

Who was tormenting Keira?

Marcella, aka her dormant personality. When ‘Marcella’ was running the show, Keira left Juliet’s baby mobile sheet music under her windscreen wiper, put the news clipping in the museum locker and sent her self the key (to locker ‘B4’ incidentally… or maybe ‘before’) and made the dummy with the picture of Keira’s face stuck to it, with a plastic bag over its head in mimicry of the season one murderer MO. By the end, when Marcella had retaken control, ‘Keira’ promised she would always be there to help her cope with her pain. 

Is Marcella wanted for murder?

She fatally shot Finn, but the only witness to that is DI Rav Sangha, who may or may not be dead himself. If Rav survives, is he likely to rat out Marcella for offing such a monstrous ballbag as Finn Maguire? Shouldn’t have thought so. 

Where did Marcella take baby Katy? 

Your guess is as good as mine. A tattoo remover, perhaps? Before he was abducted, Bobby Barrett was supposed to be going to a new life in Havana, Cuba (where he hoped to meet Fidel Castro, who died in 2016. Never the sharpest tool in the box, Bobby.)

Was it all a dream?

Go back through the season, and you’ll see that almost every episode opens with a close-up of Marcella’s eyes opening as she wakes up, hence: all a dream? It would explain a lot, including any unanswered questions viewers might have about that tattoo, the flip-flopping hair colour, why Keira crashed her Mini Countryman, exactly when she and Finn “I’ve missed this” Maguire started sleeping together, why Jack instantly forgot about his dead daughter, what happened with the drugged mayor and the dead journalist, where Keira got Danny’s toy gun, what the spaceman curtains at the safe house were all about, where Rav got a hotel room’s worth of Marcella and Jason’s family photos, where DCI Laura Porter actually was… all that and much more.

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All episodes of Marcella season 3 are available to stream on ITV Hub in the UK and Netflix in the US.

The post Marcella Season 3 Ending Explained: Murders, Money and the Mystery Caller appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[sweetnestor]

Story of Another Us | Week 13

university au, platonic af, now on ao3!

previous chapter | masterlist | playlist

A long term plan with short term fixes

Having anxiety disorder means that sometimes you’re not able to do what you want. Sometimes you have to sacrifice things for your mental health. Sometimes it’s the other way around, but it’s not always for something you want. There are times where you have to sacrifice your mental health for necessary everyday things like answering the phone, going to the store, and even driving to places that make you deeply uncomfortable.

I wasn’t exactly sad that I was missing PAX East this year. While I did enjoy video games from time to time, and while I did support my boyfriend and what he did, conventions weren’t my scene. Okay, that’s somewhat of a lie. I really wanted to go, I just hated the method of transportation: flying.

Yeah… no. Being stuck in a small space in the air for an extended amount of time is absolutely terrifying. That single fear has made me turn down several opportunities. I couldn’t go to Playlist Live, I couldn’t collab with several major makeup brands, and I most definitely couldn’t go to any PAX.

Just driving the boys to the airport gave me heart palpitations and sweaty palms. I wasn’t even going on the plane, why did I have to be such a baby about it? I wasn’t even brave enough to go inside the damn building to see the boys off. I parked the car in one of the loading zones in front of the entrance and got out to say goodbye.

“You sure you’ll be fine?” asked Mark, who went to get the luggage out of the trunk.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I replied, ignoring the disbelieving looks from Matt and Ryan. At least they saw me for what I was: a mess.

“Just call me if you need anything,” Mark told me. Things I’ve heard before. Things I probably wouldn’t do unless I was actually dying.

“Okay.” Empty promises.

The tension had gone down slightly over the last couple of weeks. Mark was okay with letting Jack live at my place, but Jack was still weirdly silent and tiptoeing around everything. I wondered how they would survive the weekend together. I wondered if any fans would notice the bad energy. I wondered if they would know it was my fault.

After getting out their luggage, Mark closed the trunk. “Okay, well. Our flight takes off soon, so we’d better get going.”

I went to hug my boyfriend, who was surprised at the gesture. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, giving me a little squeeze.

“I’ll miss you,” I told him sincerely.

“I’ll miss you too, babe.”

I let him go and then I hugged Jack goodbye. Again, he was strangely quiet, but I didn’t know what to say to him either. I couldn’t really say anything without fearing that Mark was going to give him shit about it. I didn’t want to send him off onto another fight with Mark. I was already worrying before they even left.

~

Almost as soon as I got back to Mark’s empty house, I got a phone call. At first, I thought that one of the boys had forgotten something, but then I looked at the caller ID. It was Sophie, which was a little shocking. I rarely spoke to her outside of YTU, and I did not have the energy or courage to answer, so I left my phone face down on the counter and went to tend to Chica.

The afternoon was spent playing with my boyfriend’s dog and then editing my latest video in my boyfriend’s room. Chica sat at my feet, chewing on a bone. That was the only noise throughout the house, aside from the voices of myself and Jack on the computer.

Watching back the footage of me and Jack was rather entertaining. You wouldn’t think that there was something else going on behind the scenes. You couldn’t tell that we were feeling guilty or sad. In fact, this was a side of me that my audience rarely saw.

The Bella Santiago in this bleaching/hair dyeing tutorial was smiling. She was enjoying herself, she was laughing with her friend. She wasn’t ranting about politics or equality, or sweating from getting so fired up. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so upbeat in a video. It was strange.

“Now, I haven’t bleached or styled hair in a while. So if you end up bald, then forgive me.”

“Should I be worried, then? You’re actually Googling how to do this!”

“Shhh, no te preocupes, I just have to refresh my memory.”

The whole video was just banter. Two friends laughing together and having fun. Of course, the Internet was going to take it differently, but we had that coming regardless. There was always going to be someone who hated me for being around Jack and someone who wanted me to replace his current girlfriend. That’s just how this life was. There wasn’t much that could be done about it.

I kept editing until I had to take Chica outside. It was nearly dark by then, and I had a sudden spike of energy. I was scrolling through my phone, rapidly going through my Twitter feed. I was singing to myself too, something I was listening to in the car on the way back from the airport. Then I saw a promoted tweet for Demi Lovato’s latest single, Stone Cold. I was humming that to myself for a good while. Then, I figured, I had the house to myself, and Mark had a guitar and keyboard here somewhere.

I brought Chica back inside and then got right to work. I dashed through the house, grabbing lights and a camera. I set them up in front of the couch in the living room, all while warming up my voice. Finally, I grabbed the guitar from Mark's room and practically ran downstairs to my recording area.

Ironically, I didn't start with Stone Cold. I was playing a different song, Airplanes, on the guitar, and next thing I knew I was singing it.

“Most of my life, I sat on my hands I don't make a sound Getting it right, I made all my plans Lost, never found”

Somehow I always found a song that I could relate to. It was the only way I could express my feelings without outwardly talking about them. I didn't know how to name my emotions either, according to Helena, so singing songs was a healthy outlet.

“Airplanes cut through the clouds Like angels can fly, we'll never die Sirens cut through the night Like screams set on fire, rising up high I've got something to prove, nothing to lose In this city, in this city, oh”

When I finished that song, I was in a different mood. I set the guitar aside and went to stop recording. Thinking, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked through my music. I had to find something. Anything for me to attach whatever I was feeling to. I started tapping my foot anxiously, and nearly jumped when I found the song I needed. If I could sprint while carrying expensive camera equipment, I would have. I was careful but quick going back up the stairs to where the keyboard was in Mark’s room.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I whispered, my mind buzzing so hard I couldn’t properly focus. “Okay, okay, new shirt, new shirt, okay, okay…”

I yanked off my grey tee shirt and put on a black crop top. Then I went over to make sure the camera was recording and that the lights were on. Everything was set, so I took my place at the keyboard and played the song.

I sang. I made it through a Little Mix cover before I started shaking. Then I made it through my Demi Lovato cover and everything was fine until it wasn’t. We all know that was bound to happen.

~

“Bella Santiago, age twenty three, admitted to psych after having a two hour long panic attack and a psychotic episode,” reported a nurse to a doctor.

Surely I had to be sedated. There were two people talking about me right in front of my face and I didn’t feel the dull ache in my chest or the flipping of my stomach. I just lied there in bed and listened, keeping my eyes fixed on my feet. I was itching at my arms incessantly but I was generally complacent and well behaved.

“How are you feeling, Ms. Santiago?” asked the woman in the white lab coat, Dr. Starr.

Hmm, tough question. Too much pressure. My eyes widened as if she had asked me to murder someone.

“Well, let’s check your pulse,” she said, probably reading my ugly, unstable body language.

Hesitantly, I gave her my arm and she placed two fingers on my wrist. Fast. Panicky. Why couldn’t I be dead?

Once Dr. Starr saw my arm and the redness, she ordered for the nurse to prep me for some tests. Then she asked me if I was allergic to anything, or anything that could have caused this “rash.” I played dumb and said no. They were already prepping the medical stuff, so it was too late to mention that it was an anxiety thing. When situations got really drastic, I just scratched at my arms as if they were very itchy. It was rare, and for some reason, this was a drastic situation.

“Now, is there anyone you want us to call in the meantime?” Dr. Starr asked me once her medical talk with the nurses was over.

Mark. But he’s been in Boston for twenty four hours. He hasn’t had much time with his fans or his friends. I couldn’t take him away from that or have him worry. He was probably still mad at me too.

“No,” I replied shortly.

Dr. Starr tilted her head. “No family? Close friends?”

“I have no friends, and my family want nothing to do with me,” I mumbled, now pickin at my nails.

“Well, your family must be wondering where you are…”

“They haven’t wondered for five years.”

Uncomfortable silence.

“I see,” the doctor concluded. “Well, Ms. Santiago, can you tell me what were you doing before this happened?”

Here we go.

“Singing,” I replied. “Then I started panicking. I thought I was dying, or that I completely lost it.”

“Have you been hospitalized for panic attacks before?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, we’re going to be monitoring you for the next couple of days.”

I could only hope I would be out of here by Monday. I wasn’t even sure how bad I was anymore. Surely they wouldn’t make me tell them who to call. I wasn’t suicidal, I didn’t intentionally harm myself. This had happened before, and I was alone, then too. This wasn’t anything to worry about, right?

The nurse didn’t let me go on my phone. If it wasn’t for the TV, then I really would have lost it. I couldn’t be without some kind of distraction. I couldn’t even figure out what exactly made me go here. According to the people here at the hospital, I had a psychotic episode. Or maybe I told them that. I couldn’t really remember.

Blood was drawn from me a little bit later. Me, being me, I cried. Test results stated that I had no type of skin rash. It wasn’t until Dr. Starr got me out of bed and to a psychiatrist’s office within the hospital did I actually reveal that it was due to anxiety.

“How often does this happen?” the psychiatrist, Dr. Francis asked. “Have you ever gotten these itches treated before?”

“No, it almost never happens,” I replied. It was getting easier to talk to people around here. Maybe it was the sedation. Or the fact that he was qualified to handle me made it more comforting. “Last time I was in the hospital, I was itchy too, and it was because of anxiety.”

“Okay, well I can prescribe something for that. Maybe a low dosage since it happens rarely,” he said, writing on a clipboard.

Oh no, medication talk. I never wanted to take medication… says Bella, who has never had a mentally stable day of her life and wonders why.

“May I ask, why you didn’t have anyone call someone for you?” Dr. Francis had questions I did not want to answer. Why couldn’t he asked me about my maladaptive behaviors or something?

I hesitated. “I don’t have anyone.”

“No parents or siblings? A boyfriend, perhaps?”

I shook my head, avoiding eye contact.

Dr. Francis sighed. “Forgive me for being forward, Ms. Santiago. But I have a daughter who watches Markiplier.”

God fucking shit of a fuck.

“I’m not in danger of killing myself or harming myself or anything,” I said. “I don’t think there’s any reason to notify him. He’s on the other side of the country right now, anyway.”

“Do you feel like you would be bothering him if you told him?”

“He’s just so busy, and we just got over a fight we had. I want everything to stay perfect.”

“What exactly is he busy with right now, Bella?”

“He’s at a convention in Boston. He’s doing YouTube stuff, and I don’t like to interrupt him. Like, it’s just me and my anxiety again. It’s just repetitive and kind of unnecessary.”

Dr. Francis asked me more questions, and the more I talked, the more I realized how crazy I was sounding. Turns out, I wasn’t buying makeup because I loved makeup. I bought things to fill the sense of emptiness and dissatisfaction in my life. I sang excessively because I couldn’t bear the thought of facing my actual feelings head on. I wasn’t constantly tired from walking around campus, I was just severely depressed. I didn’t want to tell Mark I was in the hospital because he was busy, it was because I was depressed I felt like I wasn’t worth his time.

It’s not like I wasn’t aware of all of this, it was just a tough pill to swallow. And now because of it, I really did have to take pills. I had to make friends with a little lady called xanax.

When I went back to my room, the nurse let me go on my phone. I was cooperative and unproblematic, so I got a small privilege. I sent out a tweet talking about how productive I was the last couple of days, which wasn’t really a lie. After that, I checked my text messages. All of them were from Mark.

“We landed! How are you?” Sent at 3:04PM.

“Had a meeting, then went to dinner with the gang!” Attached was a picture of Mark, Jack, Matt, and Ryan. They were sat at a table in a restaurant with Bob, Mandy, Wade and Molly. Sent at 10:11PM.

“You’re awfully silent. Everything okay?” Sent at midnight.

Now it was time to lie. Well, sort of.

“Hi! Sorry for not replying!! I spent literally all day filming! I made three whole videos! I went to sleep right after haha hope you’re having fun at pax!!” Accompanied by several emojis so nothing seemed fishy.

I wasn’t lying. I did spend a majority of the day filming. I didn’t feel as nervous as I normally would have, thanks to the xanax. I had next to no problem giving my phone back to the nurse, not even waiting for a response from Mark. He was probably too busy to answer me anyway.

_______

next chapter

[miss-abercrombie-fitch-blog]

Practice Challenge 2

As an only child who pretty much hates her parents, the whole home city send off thing wasn’t a big deal. I’m used to putting myself in front of crowds with confidence, no matter what they’re thinking if me, and this was no different. 

Whether it’s because of my name Abercrombie Fitch; and no, I’ve never modelled for them, it’d be too weird; or my weight, because yes, I’m not the thinnest girl out there; people always look at me. 

Being able to hold yourself with confidence no matter what, is important. And somewhere along the way you start to believe it too. Because I wasn’t always comfortable with myself, there was a time when all i wanted to do was shed half my weight and be thin and conventionally pretty like everyone else. 

But somewhere between that day I realised that pretending to love yourself was enough to make people think you really did, and now, I’ve actually come to love myself and my body. And that is still one of my proudest accomplishments. So I walk through the airport and up to the plane with my head held high, pulling my suitcase behind me. 

My empty suitcase but no one needs to know that. There’s simply nothing at home that I have any interest in taking with me, or will need. I’m going to the palace for crying out loud I’ll want for nothing. 

As I walk onto the plane I notice a blonde girl sitting there fumbling with a shoe. Azalea Starling. I’m good at remembering names and faces by now, the number of times I forgot who someone important was when I was younger taught me that well enough. It was be perfect or be punished in my house, so perfection waa what I strived for. 

I don’t need to do that quite so much anymore, so I smile at the girl, despite wondering if she’s quite mentally stable, she’s juggling her own shoe after all. 

“Hi… is this a bad time,” I ask, she smiles slightly at me, before putting her shoe back onto her foot. 

 “Of course not. I was just playing a game of catch. Got to stay active!” I frown a little at her response, but nod, “Right.”

“You must be Abercrombie. I’m Azalea,” She says, offering me her hand, which I shake. She’s the daughter of a politician from what I remember, and despite the whole juggling with her shoe thing I can see it in the way she acts, the fact that she want in for a handshake. 

“That I am. You’re Azalea Starling, right? I know there’re two Azaleas, so…” I trail off and shrug, despite knowing who she is, don’t want to come across as creepy at first. Or ever actually.

She laughs, “Yeah… would you like to sit with me? I’d love the company!” The offer seems forced, and I’m not quite sure about her yet, but it can’t hurt, can it. 

“Sure,” I respond with a small grin. At least this will teach me whether she’s worth my time, or if she really is mentally unstable like she almost seems to be. I don’t think I’m meant to hear it, but I notice her muttered ‘great’ as I sit down. 

The other girls board the plane after a while, and once they’re all settled, or I assume they are, we start preparing to take off. Flying isn’t that exciting to me anymore, after all I do it frequently enough, for jobs. 

Azalea and I talk a little, and I decide that there’s more to her than there seems to be. Underneath the surface there’s a girl who I think could make a great ally. 

A little after our flight has taken off, there’s an announcement from the attendants. “I’m sorry to interrupt your experience, ladies, but I have an announcement.” They young woman sucks in a breath before continuing. “It appears that your fellow contestant, Azalea Archer, has passed away.” 

I’m silent at that announcement, while many of the others gasp. I can’t breathe, can’t think. Eventually I suck in a shaky breath, wishing I had some water to wash this feeling of helplessness away. 

Dead, one of the selected. One of us. 

Dead. 

“She was shot by a rebel during her farewell… Thank you for your time.” The attendant immediately leaves after her announcement. I spend the rest of the flight feigning sleep, thinking everything through. Luckily, Azalea is as silent as me, not wanting to talk about this either. 

I don’t think I could deal with talking to her right now, talking to anyone. The stakes just got that much higher. I can’t imagine why that girl was killed, but for some reason all I can think is that I’m next. 

Why, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m a model, I’m famous. I’ve had my share of death threats over the years, starting when I was just a little girl. Or maybe I’m just paranoid, freaked out. 

Either way, this is affecting me way more than I should let it, more than I can allow. 

I am Abercrombie Fitch, and I am strong and confident. 

I just need to remember that. 

The “makeover” was simply a glorified excuse for some girls who really don’t know all that much about that kind of thing to play around. I’m used to professional stylists, professional hair and makeup artists. Not young girls who don’t know one thing from the other. 

Usually I’d find something like this relaxing, but I spend more time than I would have expected I’d have to telling them what to do with me. That’s what I get for being used to competent stylist I suppose. 

Overall it simply means that nothing about me changes in my makeover, and after a slight debacle with the clothes, because I want one thing, and they want another, I’m done. 

I yawn as I walk to my room, the day wasn’t all that long, but it was tiring, and I fall asleep to the realisation that for the next however long this is my life. 

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

BLOODY SUNRISE CHAPTER ONE

Darkness swallowed them as the jet plummeted towards the ground. Bright yellow oxygen masks swung in front of the passengers’ faces.

With shaking hands, Caitlin grabbed hers, yanking it over her nose and mouth.

Everyone around her screamed. They were going to crash.

She looked to the woman sitting next to her, terror reflected in her eyes.

Splintering metal shrieked, the other engine exploding as they impacted.

Then everything went quiet.

***

LaGuardia Airport, four hours before

 Caitlin adjusted her grip on her rolling suitcase. “Hey, Nicole, do you want a coffee?”

Glancing up from the magazine rack, Nicole nodded. “Please.”

The airport bustled with people, the echoing drone of flight announcements interrupting the surrounding chatter. Caitlin checked her watch, despite knowing they both had plenty of time to get to their gates. A habit from work—be on time or perish.

As she paid for their lattes, Nicole strode up next to her, handing the cashier money for the two papers she’d picked up.

“Pretty sure you’re the only reason print media hasn’t died out yet,” Caitlin commented, grinning at the thick newspapers Nicole folded over in her hands.

“Are you really that surprised the archaeologist is old school?”

“No. Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you about it.”

The women took their coffees and dragged their carry-on bags along, searching for a place to sit while they waited.

“You really didn’t have to come to the airport this early,” Nicole said as they found two empty seats next to a duty-free jewelry kiosk. “Your flight isn’t for another hour.”

“I know, but I’ve hardly gotten to see you all week.” Caitlin sat down, clicking the handle of her suitcase into place. “Besides, now we can commiserate about airports together instead of on Twitter like everyone else.”

Nicole was already fidgeting with her bracelet and wedding ring, and Caitlin eyed her over the edge of her paper cup.

“Nervous?”

“I just hope my presentation goes well,” Nicole said with a sigh. “It’s been a while since I’ve covered burial mounds. I’m not sure I’m as sharp on the topic as I could be.”

“Nicole, you’re a genius. You’re a doctor—”

“A PhD.”

“They still call you Doctor Stevens, don’t they?”

Nicole smiled. “True.”

“See?” Caitlin sipped her coffee and leaned back in the metal chair. “You’re gonna be great. You’re just jittery. Once you’re behind the podium, you’ll dazzle the pants off them.”

“I hope not. Most of the attendees are in their seventies.”

Caitlin choked on her drink as she laughed, and Nicole burst into giggles.

“One of these days, I’m gonna need the Heimlich after you crack a joke.”

Nicole continued to laugh. “I’ll just work on my timing. Wouldn’t want to put my best friend in an early grave.”

“Please don’t! I’m up for a promotion.” Caitlin went to take another sip of her coffee and cursed under her breath. “Shit, I was supposed to text Nathaniel.”

“You were?”

Yanking her phone out of her purse, Caitlin nodded. “Yeah, he wanted to know when I got to the airport.”

“That’s sweet.”

“It’s… yeah, it’s nice.”

Nicole paused, newspapers in hand. “Uh oh.”

“No, no ‘uh oh’.” Caitlin quickly typed out a text and hit send. “We’re still fine.”

“Fine, after six months, doesn’t sound promising.”

Caitlin slipped her phone into her bag. “I think he’s already contemplating the M word.”

“Monogamy?”

“Marriage.”

It was Nicole’s turn to choke. “What? But—”

“I know, I know, it’s way too soon,” Caitlin said, holding her hands up. “We haven’t discussed it fully, but I can tell he’s…” She tilted her head, searching for the word. “I think he’s hoping we’re on the same page about it.”

Laying her first paper out on her lap, Nicole looked at her. “And are you?”

The question sat like a rock in Caitlin’s stomach.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I like him. I like him a lot.” She twisted her long brown hair over her shoulder—another habit. “But I don’t know if we know each other well enough for marriage talk. It feels like we’ve skipped over about eight thousand other steps.”

Nicole smirked. “You and your steps…”

“Look, you have to go through a lot with someone before you can decide if they’re happily ever after material.” Caitlin’s phone dinged in her purse and she hesitated. “How else can you be sure?”

“I’m not sure I’m a good candidate for that question.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware. Your undergrad romance with Scott was almost unbearable.”

“Don’t hate. We were adorable.”

Caitlin read her messages, biting the inside of her lip. “Adorable and nauseating.”

“Oh God…”

“I was kidding,” she said, tossing her phone back into her purse without replying.

Nicole shook her head. “No, not that. Did you see this?” She tapped the section of the paper she’d been reading. “Those mental health patients that escaped a test clinic?”

Leaning closer, Caitlin skimmed the first few lines of the article. “This says they’re considered dangerous and shouldn’t be approached—Jesus, this is in Atlanta?”

“Aren’t you glad you just have a connecting flight out of there? I have to stay in the city for the whole week.” Nicole continued reading. “They’ve already attacked a bunch of people. Something about being agitated and unstable without their medications.”

“Well yeah, they’re patients for a reason. I can’t believe the hospital didn’t do a better job of looking after them. They’re people, not experiments.” She took a gulp of her coffee and asked, “How long have they been without care?”

“The article says they escaped a few days ago.”

Caitlin shook her head. “That’s awful.”

The intercom announced Nicole’s flight number had started boarding and she jumped up.

“Crap, I better go,” she said, fumbling with her coffee and newspapers.

“Have fun Miss Priority Boarding,” Caitlin teased. “I’ll be thinking of you in my company bought middle seat in coach.”

Nicole flipped her bright red hair over her shoulder as she maneuvered her suitcase and smiled. “At least you get to see the Pacific Ocean.”

Caitlin beamed. “True. I plan on coming back impressively tanned.”

Leaning down, Nicole hugged her tightly. “Have a good trip.”

“Fly safe,” Caitlin told her with an extra squeeze. “Call me after your presentation.”

Nicole agreed, waving as she hurried to her gate. Caitlin watched until her best friend’s distinct red hair had disappeared into the crowd of people before settling back and finishing her coffee.

Across the way, someone else was reading the same newspaper Nicole had, the headline about the escaped patients in bold type on the front page.

A new knot twisted in Caitlin’s gut and she did her best to ignore it.

                                                               ***

“So, I told him, I said ‘Bob, if you want the vacation home in Florida, we have to stop to see my sister on the way down. We see your brothers all the time, I want to see my sister.’ You’d have thought I asked for the moon, he was so annoyed.”

Caitlin nodded politely as the woman sitting next to her continued talking. She’d started by asking if she had the right seat and hadn’t stopped since. Caitlin didn’t know how she was getting oxygen at this point.

She’d gotten to the Atlanta hub in plenty of time to make her connection. Even managed to grab a drink and something to eat before getting on the plane. Take off had been smooth, despite her chatty seatmate and the irritated glares from the flight attendants.

Reaching for her water, Caitlin continued to pretend to listen as the woman divulged every problem in her marriage.

Caitlin was almost happy she wasn’t married if it looked anything like this woman’s relationship.

A thunderous explosion rocked the plane. Everyone screamed, shocked and afraid as turbulence shook them violently.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems as though we’ve had a malfunction of one of our engines,” the captain announced over the intercom. “Please remain calm and buckle your seatbelts as we prepare for an emergency—”

The speaker crackled, and smoke began to fill the cabin.

Another deafening explosion ripped the left wing off the plane.

Darkness swallowed them as the jet plummeted towards the ground, losing altitude faster and faster. Bright yellow oxygen masks swung in front of the passengers’ faces from the overhead compartments.

With shaking hands, Caitlin grabbed hers, yanking it over her nose and mouth.

Everyone around her screamed. They were going to crash.

Caitlin looked to the woman sitting next to her, terror reflected in her eyes. Grabbing for her hand, she tried to hold her.

Splintering metal shrieked, the other engine exploding as they impacted.

And then everything went quiet.

                                                               ***

Air. Caitlin needed air.

Coughing, she struggled to fill her lungs. Everything hurt. Everything was dark. She felt like she was dying.

Maybe she already had.

She was pinned, forehead pressed into something slick, and the rest of her covered by something oppressively heavy.

Every time she blinked her eyes stung with smoke, sweat, ash, blood…

“Help,” she croaked. “Is any…one…”

Another coughing fit overtook her, and she curled over in pain. Her ribs were broken, she was certain of it.

Waiting until she could at least get half a breath, she tried to get her bearings. Tried to remember…

The plane had crashed. She could still hear the roar of the engine exploding. Could still feel the rattle of the impact in her bones—especially the broken ones.

Another sharp pain up her side made her gasp.

The dead didn’t feel pain… did they?

With as much strength as she could manage, she fumbled in the dark for the seatbelt still strapping her into the broken seat. The hunk of metal airplane siding pinning her had created a cocoon, sealing her off except for the stream of smoke filtering inside.

Pressing the release latch on the belt, she tumbled forward, colliding fully with whatever her head had been leaning against. She’d been upside down.

With a pained groan, she rolled, struggling to get to her hands and knees.

Gingerly, she placed her hand on the metal above her, testing the temperature. It wasn’t scalding, so whatever fire was causing the smoke wasn’t close enough to hurt her. Yet…

Pushing, she ignored the agony screaming in her chest. After the third shove, she managed to leaver it off, revealing utter horror all around her.

Bodies were scattered amongst the wreckage, some charred, some mangled, some she even recognized from briefly passing them as she’d boarded.

The woman who had been her seatmate was lifeless, crumpled over the back of another seat, eyes open and staring at nothing.

Caitlin hiccupped on a gasp, too shocked to process the scene before her.

“H-hello?” She called, voice ragged. “Is… Is anyone…”

She coughed again, and tears streamed down her face, pain cutting her off.

Caitlin stumbled through the smoldering debris. Someone had to be coming for them. A rescue team, an ambulance, anyone. There was no way a plane could crash right outside of the city and no one would come.

Then she looked at the greying pink sky. It was dusk.

Her flight had left Atlanta at eleven that morning…

They’d been left out there all day. No one had come for them. No one would be there to rescue her.

She was alone.

“Is… Is anyone else…” She coughed but forced the words. “Is anyone else there?”

Silence.

“Anyone?”

Even the birds were quiet.

Caitlin was the sole survivor.

Dragging herself out on aching legs, she plodded down the hill aimlessly.

Her ears still rang, and she was sickeningly dizzy. She was bleeding. She had numerous broken bones.

She needed help.

Wrapping her arm around her abdomen, she put one foot in front of the other. Again, and again, and again, until the smoking crash was far behind her.

[jvc-yearofservice]

Ending the year early

10/13/19- 10/19/19

           Monday was rough because a homeless woman having a mental breakdown threw oatmeal on me, and it got in my hair. On Tuesday, we took a field trip to the pumpkin patch where I was in charge of looking after two students who were awesome and behaved phenomenally. We rode the carousel, had a free lunch, and watched a pig race. That night, my housemates and I were walking to our seats at the Jonas Brothers concert, and a random man approached us and asked if it was just the three of us. We said 'yes', and he proceeded to give us tickets for the floor of the stadium, which were obviously much better than our nose-bleed seats. We took them and got escorted down to the floor where there were three seats together. It was literally so close to the stage and therefore closer to them as well. The concert was so amazing, and they played all my favorite songs, including "Burnin' Up", "Cake by the Ocean", "SOS", "Sucker", and "Lovebug". I nearly got trampled several times when they would walk from one stage to another (that's how close we were). My feet were killing me from jumping up and down for nearly two or more hours, but it was definitely worth it.

           On Wednesday, I was fired from my job. I'll tell you how it happened: I came to work early in the morning, and my supervisor met me at the door, saying that we would have a meeting at 8am, which was unusual because our one on ones were on Friday's. At 8am, she told me to follow her and then started walking away. I followed her to another building, and we walked in absolute silence the entire way. Eventually, in the other building, we went into a random office, and there was an uglier-looking Angelica Houston type woman standing there. She told me to sit down, so me and my supervisor both sat down while she stayed standing the entire time. The woman who was standing was named Ms. Julie, I think, and she was the head of HR at Loaves and Fishes. She informed me that a JVC representative was on speakerphone (Laura Strubeck) as well as our in-city coordinator, Windi. I was super perplexed about it since there was absolutely no preparation nor had I expected anything amiss. My supervisor started explaining that since my work "fell so short below the expectations I agreed to at the beginning of the year, my position has been terminated". I was so blown away that I couldn't really speak. I looked at my supervisor who had super fake sad puppy dog eyes, and then I looked at the HR woman. The HR woman seemed really angry with me and told me, "Your one job was to protect the kids and you failed." Then my supervisor very helpfully jumped in and added, "We do not trust you to keep the children safe." I was really shocked and confused because my supervisor and I had just had a meeting with the in-city coordinator where we discussed issues and (seemingly) resolved everything (but I guess not). The main issue was supervising the children, which I asked for more clarification on but had only received vague answers from my supervisor every time. They asked if I had any questions, and I could only think to ask about what happens next. The JVC representative, Laura Strubeck, said that because I had been terminated from my job instead of just a mutual agreement to part ways, I was out of the program. I asked if I could be put into another placement (since several of my house-mates' agencies wanted me), but she said I couldn't and that I also had to be out of the house by Saturday. I very numbly nodded, and the in-city coordinator's only contribution to the conversation was, "I'm here for you, Mary Kate!" For those of you at home, the job of the in-city coordinator is to advocate and support the volunteers. Guess who did not support me? Our in-city coordinator. The JVC representative also said that if I could, I should share my "exit strategy"/travel plans with the JVC just for their records. They asked if I had anymore questions, and I didn't so I was walked back to the school where my supervisor insisted on watching me while I packed up my things at my desk and then escorted me out of the school, not before asking me for the work keys back.

           Here is my take on why I was really terminated: from day one, I sensed that my supervisor didn't really like me. I figured that it would take some time to warm up to each other, but our relationship never got better. In all honesty, she had expectations that no person could ever meet, even me who was doing her best and putting way too much effort into a job that didn't fulfill me (the girl in my position last year complained that this supervisor was so overbearing and never satisfied with her work and someone in my position three years ago left after the first day at work). At our meetings, my supervisor asked inappropriate questions about my personal life and tried to involve herself in any drama that was happening back at the house. I stood by my morals and who I am, and I refused to compromise any of my beliefs, and I was punished for that. It was hinted to me that I should tell my supervisor about anyone making any mistakes in their jobs (not to help them learn but so that they would be punished), and I would not because I didn't believe that was right. When my supervisor realized she could not intimidate or control me, she felt I was a liability and therefore had to go. While we were still meeting and giving me the appearance of trying to help me learn and grow as a staff member and individual, my supervisor was actively gathering little mistakes I had made and then presented them to the higher-up people in order to make it look like I was incapable of doing my job. The JVC sided with them likely because of financial reasons. The JVC gets paid by agencies to have volunteers at those agencies, and Loaves and Fishes is such a large and powerful organization that the JVC would not have wanted to get on their bad side. If it were any other site, I believe the JVC would have supported and advocated for me. The only words I have for my supervisor are this: I can see that you are suffering very deeply. I can see that you think your suffering will be alleviated by hurting others. I am very sorry that you are suffering so badly. I do not wish that kind of suffering on anybody. I hope one day you can alleviate that suffering without inflicting pain on others.

           All that day, I had decided to tell all my house mates later on so as to not ruin their day. I basically packed up my room, got a plane ticket home, and took down all my decorations. Eventually, I told them all together, and they were outraged and devastated as well. Lots of tears and grieving. Everyone is still quite confused on exactly why I was fired and then unceremoniously kicked out of the program, and whenever we tried to reach out to anybody in a position of power in the JVC, but we were given vague answers every time or blatantly ignored. It especially helped that some support people, Lauren and OJ, came over to grieve with us that night. My housemates reached out to everyone they could in an effort to get the JVC to let me stay and work somewhere else, but I eventually told them to stop their efforts because I was too tired and too disheartened to try to fight anymore. Why should I fight to stay in a program that would treat me so horribly and obviously does not appreciate or see my worth?

           The days went quickly after that. On Thursday, I packed and shipped things back home. Thursday night, we all tried to celebrate together by watching a movie and hanging out on the porch like we did at the beginning of the year, but there was definitely a sense of disbelief and dread among us. On Friday, I finished shipping all my things and decided to sight-see as much as I could. I went to Old Sacramento and saw a replica of the original schoolhouse, bought little mementos for everybody (using up the rest of my stipend money, heyo), and visited Fort Sutter and the Indian History Museum. That night, we all went and got a hilarious old-timey portrait done of us in all vintage, cow-boy-looking outfits. For dinner, we went to In-N-Out since I had not had it yet and it was on my to-do list. MOST IMPORTANTLY, at Fort Sutter, I saw the DONNER DOLL, aka the doll of a little girl who survived the Donner Party disaster (look it up-it's horrible).

           On Saturday, it was time to go. I woke up to the amazing smell of my house-mates making breakfast for me. A couple of us went to get donuts, and I nearly got into a fight with an "overly-sensitive and emotionally unstable" woman who said I was standing too close to her (okay, so I wasn't standing too close on purpose at first but after she said that, I stood right behind her until she screamed at us all again and then left, haha). For the last time, we all held hands around the table, and I said grace which went a little like this: "Dear Lord in Heaven...what you did was hella messed up...and I hope I can forgive you one day for allowing this to happen to such good people...but still...we ball, and I'm thankful for what I have. Amen." The car was super packed with people as we all drove to the airport, and there were many tears as I was dropped off. It was super funny because a really sad song about missing friends and having good memories came on as soon as we all got in the car. I'm writing this now as I'm waiting for my plane to depart to St. Louis, where I will be moving back in with my parents until I save up enough to get my own apartment and hopefully one day my own dog.

           A couple last things before I go: I don't regret joining the JVC, flying all the way out to Philadelphia, flying all the way out to California, and living intentionally and simply for exactly 80 days. I don't regret it because I met some of the most incredible people in the entire world (Caroline, Fran, Meg, Joseph, Laura, Morgan, Lauren & OJ, Mr. Martin, Sara F., Kelsey & Katie, Liana, Lucia, Miss Emily, Mr. Troy, Miss Erica, Miss Stacey, Fr. Tom, Mercy Meg, the Mercy volunteers, the ACE volunteers, Grace, and many more). I'd also like to sincerely thank all the unknown former Jesuit volunteers who reached out to the JVC on my behalf in an effort to try to get them to change their mind and let me stay. I'm conscientiously choosing to release the anger and bitter feelings I have towards my supervisor and all those in power positions in the JVC who advocated for my termination because holding onto those feelings is so unfair to me. I would rather use my energy to continue to help and choose joyfulness and love than to seek out revenge for what was done to me. Yes, it was unfair and horrible, as well as traumatic and embarrassing. There has also been more crying and suffering in these past few days than probably my entire life before. However, I take comfort in the fact that those who really know me absolutely understand that I did nothing to deserve this and are outraged on my behalf as well. That's enough for me- to have the faith of the ones who really matter, so I will let the issue rest.

           And maybe this was all for a greater reason. We'll see.

Godspeed,

MK

[bountyofbeads]

Trump Is Greeted by Protesters in El Paso After Contentious Day https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/07/us/politics/trump-el-paso-dayton-visits.html

Trump Visits Dayton and El Paso: Live Updates

The president took sharp aim at opponents even as he visited two cities in mourning after horrific mass shootings in Ohio and Texas.

By Michael D. Shear | Published Aug. 7, 2019 | New York Times | Posted August 7, 2019 |

President Trump landed in El Paso on Wednesday afternoon to try to console a city reeling from tragedy, but was greeted by protesters after a contentious day in which he clashed with rivals and critics even as he visited with grieving residents in Dayton, Ohio.

The White House had signaled that Mr. Trump would play the traditional role of healer in chief on Wednesday, eschewing photo-ops in favor of private sessions with emergency and hospital workers and victims of the shootings that shocked both cities and the nation.

But Mr. Trump’s proved unwilling to completely refrain from his usual combative style. On his way to El Paso from Dayton, he tweeted attacks on the Democratic mayor of Dayton and a Democratic senator who he said had not accurately described the closed-door sessions at a Dayton hospital earlier in the day.

And earlier on Wednesday, Mr. Trump held a 20-minute session with reporters in which he unloaded many of his usual grievances, displaying little hesitation to engage in politics on a day of grief for many people around the country.

Protesters greet Trump in El Paso.

Even before Mr. Trump’s arrival in El Paso, he was the focus of anger and division.

At the memorial site near the Walmart where Saturday’s shooting unfolded, a peaceful crowd that had gathered in the blistering heat turned rowdy when a woman wearing a red “Make America Great Again” hat appeared and was shouted down.

Bitter, profane arguments ensued between Trump opponents and a handful of Trump supporters, as a man chanted “the right-wing lies!” The police intervened, and a state trooper admonished people to back away from one of the Trump supporters, Shawn Bryan, 47, saying he had a right to express himself.

Mr. Bryan, a retired Marine, insisted in an interview that the shooting “has nothing to do with anybody, but this guy being mentally unstable” and assailed Democrats and the news media for trying to blame Mr. Trump for the tragedy.

Texas governor says ‘the time for talking is over’

Gov. Greg Abbott of Texas met with state lawmakers representing El Paso on Wednesday and emerged from the roughly 90-minute meeting with a list of loosely sketched proposals he aims to pursue in the coming weeks.

“The time for talking is over,” Mr. Abbott told reporters when he emerged from the meeting, holding a small stack of pages covered in handwritten notes. “The people of El Paso know that we as leaders are going to step up and do something to solve what happened here.”

Legislation regarding guns was a piece of that, though he did not describe what specifically he would want included in the proposals. “We need to ensure that guns are not in the hands of deranged killers, like the man who committed this heinous crime here in El Paso,” Mr. Abbott said, “while also at the same time insuring constitutional rights are not going to be violated.”

The proposed initiatives also included finding ways to empower law enforcement officials in “identifying potential terrorists, identifying hate groups, identifying white racists — or racists of any type — who might pose a threat to anybody,” the governor said. He said that he also sought to pursue legislation involving online destinations for racism and hate.

“In this case, we’re dealing with terrorism,” Mr. Abbott said. “We’re dealing with a white supremacist. We’re dealing with racism.”

Mr. Abbott arrived on Wednesday to join Mr. Trump during his visit, meeting him at the airport tarmac. Beforehand, Mr. Abbott, a Republican, met with members of El Paso’s delegation to the State Legislature, all Democrats.

He also announced on Wednesday that the state had an infusion of more than $5 million in state funds to aid in the recovery process, with the money going to pay for mental health services, reimbursing the county for prosecuting the suspect and creating a so-called Family Resilience Center to help families affected by the attack.

Protesters gather in Dayton as Trump arrives.

Protesters gathered in Dayton to greet the president, waving signs that said “Dump Trump” and “Do Something!” The protesters were met by demonstrators who waved competing signs supportive of Mr. Trump.

The main protest of about 100 people materialized along a stretch of South Main Street, in a grassy field a few blocks from the hospital where Mr. Trump was visiting some of the shooting victims.

Michael Prince, 55 — burly, tattooed and bushy-bearded — stood next to Jim Madewell, 71 — burly, tattooed and bushy-bearded — and watched the scene. “I want to give him the finger,” said Mr. Madewell, a retired printing press foreman who said he lives a 100 yards from the house where the Dayton shooter lived.

Mr. Madewell said that he believed Mr. Trump’s language “throws gasoline on the fire,” and that leads to violence. “He feeds on negativity and hate and fear,” Mr. Madewell said.

In Dayton’s Oregon District, a politically mixed crowd had gathered by late morning. At one point, a chant of “Do something!” broke out, the same message that drowned out the state’s Republican governor during a Sunday night vigil.

As noon approached, the crowd began to thin. At one point, a few supporters of the president started chanting “Trump, Trump, Trump.” Across the street, another woman yelled, “Trump for impeachment.”

But mostly, people just stood on the sidewalk, waiting for a motorcade that did not seem likely to come. Maj. Wendy Stiver of the city police department eventually told demonstrators that the president was not going to stop by.

Trump attacks his critics on Twitter before visiting cities in mourning.

Mr. Trump began a day set aside for healing by delivering a series of political grievances against liberals and the media, once again using Twitter to exhibit the divisive language that has prompted some in El Paso and Dayton, Ohio, to protest his visits after horrific shootings in those cities.

The president’s press secretary said Mr. Trump planned to honor victims, comfort families and thank emergency workers “for their heroic actions.”

That wasn’t the message that Mr. Trump wanted to deliver Wednesday morning as he ignored calls from community leaders and residents to stay away. Around midnight, he attacked Beto O’Rourke, a Democratic presidential candidate, on Twitter, mocking him for having a “phony name to indicate Hispanic heritage” and boasting that he “trounced him” when Mr. Trump held a rally in El Paso in February.

In a tweet on Wednesday morning, Mr. Trump quoted a conservative television news outlet’s reporting that “the Dayton, Ohio, shooter had a history of supporting political figures like Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and ANTIFA.”

But the president’s Twitter outbursts underscored the complaints of Mr. O’Rourke and others who have said Mr. Trump was unwelcome in their communities because his presence would inflame tensions rather than soothe them. If the president has heard those complaints, he declined to change the combative tone he has embraced since the earliest days of his presidency.

On Monday, Mr. Trump delivered a short speech from a teleprompter in which he condemned “racism, bigotry, and white supremacy” and said that “hate has no place in America. Hatred warps the mind, ravages the heart, and devours the soul.”

Before he departed on Wednesday, he dismissed criticism about his use of divisive language. “I think my rhetoric brings people together,” he said. “Our country is doing really well.”

Before leaving, he lashed out at the mayor of Dayton, calling her a supporter of Senator Bernie Sanders and of antifa, a radical leftist group. The president also rejected calls to abandon the way he talks about immigrants, saying that “illegal immigration is a terrible thing for this country” and insisting that “we have very many people coming in. They are pouring in to this country.”

Mr. Trump also used language that echoed his “both sides” comments after the neo-Nazi rallies in Charlottesville in 2017, saying on Wednesday that “I’m concerned about the rise of any type of hate. I don’t like it. Any type of supremacy, whether it’s white supremacy or antifa.”

White House invites tech companies to discussion on “violent extremism”

The White House will host an event with tech companies on Friday aimed at discussing how to eradicate violent behavior online, but the president may not be in attendance.

“The White House has invited internet and technology companies for a discussion on violent extremism online,” Judd Deere, a White House spokesman, said in a statement, adding that senior administration officials and “representatives of a range of companies” would participate.

He did not say which companies or officials would attend, but said that it was a “staff-led” meeting. Facebook, Google and Twitter declined to comment about the meeting.

A person familiar with the event said that administration officials would be focused on violent behavior and not hate speech. In recent days, Mr. Trump has defended himself against widespread scrutiny over the effect his divisive rhetoric has on white supremacists and other extremists online.

Biden accuses Trump of “hate, racism and division.”

Former Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr. on Wednesday prepared to ratchet up his criticism of Mr. Trump after the El Paso massacre carried out by a suspect who the authorities say wrote a white supremacist screed.

“In both clear language and in code, this president has fanned the flames of white supremacy in this nation,” Mr. Biden will say, according to excerpts from remarks he planned to make in Burlington, Iowa.

“We have a president who has aligned himself with the darkest forces in this nation,” Mr. Biden will say. He will also say that Mr. Trump “offers no moral leadership,” has “no interest in unifying the nation” and that there is “no evidence the presidency has awakened his conscience in the least.”

“Instead,” Mr. Biden will say, “we have a president with a toxic tongue who has publicly and unapologetically embraced a political strategy of hate, racism, and division.”

At the White House, Mr. Trump was asked to respond to another comment by Mr. Biden in which he said the president has more in common with George Wallace than George Washington.

“Well, Joe is a pretty incompetent guy,” Mr. Trump said. “I’ve watched his interviews. I’ve watched what he said and how he said it. And I wouldn’t have rated him very high in the first place. But Joe Biden has truly lost his fastball, that I could tell you.”

Democrats say “red flag” laws will not be enough.

Senator Chuck Schumer, the Democratic leader, said Wednesday that Democrats would insist that legislation to encourage states to adopt so-called red flag laws as a response to gun violence be accompanied by a House bill requiring background checks on all gun purchasers.

Red flag laws allow the authorities to obtain a special type of protective order — known as an extreme risk protection order, or E.R.P.O. — to remove guns from people deemed dangerous. Republicans, including Mr. Trump, are embracing the concept, and Senator Lindsey Graham, Republican of South Carolina, is drafting a bill to develop a federal grant program to help states pass and implement such laws.

“We Democrats are not going to settle for half-measures so Republicans can feel better and try to push the issue of gun violence off to the side,” Mr. Schumer said. “Democrats in the Senate will seek to require that any E.R.P.O. bill that comes to the floor is accompanied by a vote on the House-passed universal background checks legislation.”

Mr. Trump, on his way to Dayton and El Paso, told reporters he was open to expanding background checks for gun purchases. But Senator Mitch McConnell, the majority leader, has blocked consideration of the House bills.

The gunman’s motive in Dayton may not be tied to politics, the authorities say.

Although the F.B.I. is investigating “violent ideologies” that the Dayton gunman was exploring, the authorities have said there was no evidence that his rampage had anything to do with his political views, which his friends have described as far-left.

The gunman, Connor Betts, who was killed by the police, espoused leftist views online and in conversations with friends, promoting socialism and the idea that liberals should own guns. And a Twitter account that is believed to be his but has not been confirmed by the authorities showed support for antifa, the loose group of people who call themselves “anti-fascists” and often believe that violence against people they view as “fascists” is justified.

In the wake of the mass shooting that killed nine and wounded more than two dozen others, conservatives have pointed out that the Twitter account that may be associated with the gunman also expressed support for Mr. Sanders and Ms. Warren, sharing one post that said they were the only two acceptable candidates in the race for president.

This week, a federal law enforcement official said the F.B.I. was looking at whether the gunman was associated with incel, or involuntary celibate, groups, which are generally made up of misogynists who disparage women online, in part for refusing to have sex with them.

Reporting was contributed by Nicholas Bogel-Burroughs, Matt Stevens and Dai Wakabayashi from New York; Katie Rogers and Sheryl Gay Stolberg from Washington; Mitch Smith from Dayton, Ohio.

[heart-holes]

ask game under cut bc im bored, just ignore me 

jasmine; what mythical creature do you wish actually existed? the geopolitical impact of dragons would be weird as shit dude 

lavender; soundcloud or vinyls? neither, i’m a CD person still

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read? hm taran wanderer

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets? yes!!! makes me feel very loved

bird of paradise; what was the best thing that happened to you this month? this month has only just started, so i really don’t know yet

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself? to be kind to myself before anyone else 

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests? would love to be a forest 

whirling butterflies; would you kiss the last person you kissed again? yep! probably going to later today lmao 

marmalade skies; do you plan your outfits? only occasionally

apricot drift; how do you feel right now? my head hurts

everlasting daisy; what’s the last dream you remember having? two of my friends having an oddly NSFW conversation...

queen’s cup; what are you craving right now? dick uhh i’d like a nice cup of tea actually 

lavender dream; turn ons/offs? turn offs: spit, scat, piss, bad smells  turn ons: like everythign else lmao

water lilly; when was the last time you cried? why? a few minutes ago; stressed about my ex 

lily of the valley; did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? no

winterberry; do you bite or lick your ice cream? bite

honey perfume; favorite movie ever? hm i really like paper moon, i really like young frankenstein, but my fave is probably hackers lmaooo

desert rose; do you like yourself? on and off, yeah

snapdragon; have you ever met or seen in person a celebrity? yes, but mostly minor celebrities-- musicians, jazz people, etc. 

night owl; how many countries have you visited? seven if we don’t count the places where i only saw the airport, like nine if we count those too 

heliotrope; have you ever been in a castle? nope

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done? nothing comes...immediately to mind? i do a lot of crazy shit 

lantana; what’s on your mind right now? the song im listening to

pumpkin patch; what’s your zodiac sign? virgo sun, aries moon, leo rising

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself. 1. i have a joint disease 2. i canoe better than i walk 3. my glasses have been at a restaurant in town for like two weeks and i keep not going to get them  4. i have 2 wolves inside me: one is horny, and one is depressed 5. i love board games 

daphne; do you believe in karma? a little bit but i try not to 

queen of the meadow; ever been in love? yeah, several times 

wisteria; whom do you admire and why? my  friends for their unending generosity and intelligence and kindness

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child? i’d usually ask my mom to make things up for me 

remember me; did you make someone laugh today? yes!

iris; do you believe in ghosts? a little, yeah

lilac; if you could go back in time which time period would you visit? hm ....the eighties? maybe? if i were there as an observer and not to live in it  else i’m not really sure 

caramel kisses; would you want to live forever? why/why not? no! lonely

primula; what makes you sad? feeling abandoned or ignored or talked over 

rain lily; was today typical? why/why not? i’m still in the middle of today, i don’t know

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most? liz, with my life 

lady’s slipper; what did you have for breakfast today? peach creme french toast :3 

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life? yeah but i havent got all that much life to look back on, not sure i’ll regret those things forever 

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe? not sure! i like the world of neuromancer a whole lot, also the fallout universe, planescape...idk 

violet; favorite tv show? still justified but i probably cant’ finish it until i get over my ex

sunflower; share a favorite quote. “The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them.”

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like? i spend it somewhere outside with my friends and plenty of activities and good conversation and coffee, and then at night i go have cute low stress sex or whatever and watch the stars with someone cute

tiger lily; do you have any hobbies? plenty but im too sad to do most of them  i like to draw, that’s my main one and i sing

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you. “Llonio said life was a net for luck; to Hevydd the Smith life was a forge; and to Dwyvach the Weaver-Woman a loom. They spoke truly, for it is all of these. But you,' Taran said, his eyes meeting the potter's, 'you have shown me life is one thing more. It is clay to be shaped, as raw clay on a potter's wheel.” god i...love taran wanderer

tea rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared? sky dive

honeysuckle; do you usually date people your age or older/younger? usually right around my age

sweet pea; who means the world to you? why? my friends! they are still here after everything

love in the mist; best books you’ve ever read? taran wanderer i know this much is true god bless you, mr. rosewater pedagogy of the oppressed black skin, white masks collected poems of AR Ammons  please kill me: an oral history of punk our band could be your life weetzie bat  foxglove; who is your favorite cartoon character? snufkin!

magnolia; coffee or tea? coffee!!!

crown imperial; would you rather be extremely rich or extremely loved? extremely loved! 

snowflake; are you a dog or a cat person? cats but dogs are good too 

bell flower; what is your biggest addiction? coffee at this point 

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy? uh, yeah? this is a weird question

moonflower; what’s your favorite color? probably green or yellow

freesia; do you have a good relationship with your parents and siblings? why/why not? yeah im pretty close with both of my parents

sundrop; are you a morning or a night person? night person generally  kind of a noon person i guess 

poppy; have you ever dealt with a mental illness? hahahahahahahahahahahahaha

yep

clover; how would your friends describe you? unstable, clever, funny, kind i should hope 

dandelion; do you consider yourself and extrovert or an introvert? extrovert

lilly; what’s something you love watching/reading but you are too embarrassed to admit you do? i dont have a whole lot of guilty media pleasures im not usually that guilty about watching or reading things 

anemone; describe yourself in 3 words. always moving forward

lotus; best memory as a child? going to a dog parade and then buying pumpkins and apples with my dad...

angelonia; what is your eye and hair color? brown and brown

dahlia; do you like crystals? sure, i’m alright with them, just not into their Magic most of the time

buttercup; if you could change one thing in the world, what would it be? this is too hard of a question, pass 

baby’s breath; what’s your hogwarts house? slytherin

calendula; biggest pet peeve? being interrupted

blanker flower; would you rather go to a cocktail party with your best friends or stay home and read a book/watch a movie with your pet? oh good question probably the party 

blazing star; share a secret. no

carnation; would you rather live longer or happier? happier 

petunia; who’s story is your biggest inspiration in life? why? idk

bluebell; do you wear glasses? yes but i keep leaving them places

nymphea; forest or river? river!

orchid; do you like exercise? like i guess

pansy; do you like poetry? yes!!!

morning glory; any special talent that you have? i can mouth trumpet 

[alamante]

LAS VEGAS –  The Latest on the final report into the Oct. 1 mass shooting in Las Vegas that killed 58 people (all times local):

4:40 p.m.

Police in Las Vegas say the gunman who carried out the deadliest mass shooting in the nation’s modern history also fired armor-piercing incendiary bullets at nearby aviation fuel tanks.

A final investigative report of the Oct. 1 shooting was released Friday. It says gunman Stephen Paddock fired eight incendiary rounds at a fuel tank at the city’s airport. Two bullets hit the tank, but it didn’t explode.

A timeline says those shots were among the first of 1,057 that Paddock fired for 11 minutes from the windows of the 32nd floor of the Mandalay Bay resort into a concert crowd below.

Police who entered the room more than an hour later found Paddock dead of a self-inflicted gunshot next to a handgun as well as 23 assault-style weapons strewn about.

____

1:50 p.m.

Those who knew the gunman who opened fire at a country music festival on the Las Vegas Strip last year painted an inconsistent picture for investigators of a successful gambler who enjoyed traveling but avoided germs and hand-shaking.

The people interviewed by investigators in a report made public Friday said Stephen Paddock was very detail-oriented but had poor-health and an unkempt appearance. They also said he was not interested in attention or flashy items but always wanted to be the best.

Paddock’s ex-wife Peggy Paddock told investigators her former husband grew up with a single mom in a financially unstable home and felt a need to be self-reliant. She says Stephen Paddock was not interested in drawing attention to himself and did not buy flashy clothes, jewelry or cars.

His youngest brother Eric Paddock called his brother a narcissist and said he needed to be seen as important.

Investigators say the brother described Stephen Paddock as someone who “always wanted to be the best and known to everyone.”

Friends and family said he did not appear violent and or to be abusing drugs or alcohol.

___

12:40 p.m.

The girlfriend of the Las Vegas mass shooter told investigators that gunman Stephen Paddock didn’t talk much about politics but expressed a dislike for President Barack Obama’s administration and “was happy when President Trump was elected.”

Las Vegas police said in a report on the shooting made public Friday that Paddock told his girlfriend Marilou Danley that “he believed President Trump would do something to stop illegal immigration.”

The report says Paddock did not belong to any political organizations, did not comment on gun control did not display any racial bias.

___

12:35 p.m.

Detectives investigating last year’s mass shooting in Las Vegas conducted interviews with valet attendants, security officers, housekeepers and other workers of the Mandalay Bay casino-resort who interacted with gunman Stephen Paddock at the Mandalay Bay casino-resort before he opened fire on a country music festival.

Two bellmen who helped Paddock move luggage to his room during his stay at the property on the Las Vegas Strip told authorities none of the items they moved were unusually heavy.

One told authorities Paddock requested the use of back or service elevators, which the employee explained is not uncommon for VIP guests to do.

Authorities have said Paddock amassed an arsenal of weapons in his 32nd floor suite.

The report shows a housekeeper told authorities she saw an open laptop surrounded by papers when she was cleaning the room, but never saw guns or bullets in the room.

Workers reported he requested more towels, a change of linens and a new mini fridge.

___

11:50 a.m.

The number of dead in the final police report of the Oct. 1 shooting on the Las Vegas Strip remains the same, at 58 people plus the gunman who authorities say killed himself.

However, the final report from Las Vegas police on Friday raises the number of people with “documented physical injuries” to 869 from the 851 reported by Clark County Sheriff Joe Lombardo when he released preliminary report in January.

Police said they confirmed that 413 people received gunshot or shrapnel injuries, down from the 422 reported in January.

The injuries to the other 456 were not specified or listed as “other than gunshot or shrapnel.”

Some people may have been treated for injuries but never reported them to police.

In witness accounts and 911 calls made public in recent months, some people who escaped gunfire reported being trampled on by other people as they fled the country music festival.

___

11:45 a.m.

Investigators say people who knew the gunman behind the mass shooting at a Las Vegas country music festival described him as a narcissist who cared only about himself.

A report released by Las Vegas police said Stephen Paddock did not have any religious or political affiliations. Before the shooting, he had only minor interactions with law enforcement related to traffic tickets and no history of arrests.

Investigators said Paddock had several hobbies and would become “heavily invested, monetarily and emotionally, in any activity he began.”

He bought all required gear after learning to scuba dive and bought an airplane after getting a pilot’s license.

___

11:00 a.m.

A final report released by Las Vegas police into the mass shooting in Las Vegas last year shows the gunman’s primary care physician told FBI agents his patient may have had “bipolar disorder.”

The report made public Friday does not name the Las Vegas physician who also told investigators that Stephen Paddock did not want to talk about the possible disorder further with him.

The physician described Paddock’s behavior as “odd” and showing “little emotion.”

The doctor told federal agents Paddock refused antidepressants, but accepted prescriptions for anxiety medication.

He said Paddock “seemed fearful of medications” and often refused to take them.

The doctor last saw Paddock a year before the shooting for an annual checkup.

___

10:55 a.m.

The lead investigator into last year’s mass shooting in Las Vegas says authorities were unable to corroborate accounts from at least two people who told police that a person they believed to be Paddock ranted in the days prior to the attack about the federal government and gun control.

Detective Trever Alsup’s comments were in a final report made public Friday into the rampage by Stephen Paddock, who rained gunfire from a 32nd floor hotel-casino suite onto a country music festival, killing 58 people.

The claims about Paddock’s rants were among redacted witness accounts released by the authorities in May under court in a public records case by media including The Associated Press.

One man told police he heard the man say, “Somebody has to wake up the American public and get them to arm themselves,” and that, “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

A woman provided a handwritten account saying that she overheard a man she later said was Paddock at a Las Vegas restaurant talking angrily about the 1990s standoffs at Waco, Texas, and Ruby Ridge in Idaho.

___

10:35 a.m.

A brother of Las Vegas shooter Stephen Paddock told investigators that he believes the gunman cheated on tax preparation.

Eric Paddock told investigators he was worried that he might be implicated for tax evasion if evidence was collected from Stephen Paddock’s computers after he was found dead in his hotel suite after opening fire on a country music festival, killing 58 people.

Investigators said in a final report into the shooting made public Friday that at least one laptop found in Paddock’s 32nd floor suite at the Mandalay Bay casino-hotel was missing a hard drive.

When police told Eric Paddock about the missing hard drive, he repeated several times: “Maybe he did care for us.”

___

10:05 a.m.

A brother of the gunman in the Las Vegas mass shooting last year told investigators he had not spoken with Stephen Paddock for more than 10 years but believed he suffered from “mental illness and was paranoid and delusional.”

Bruce Paddock’s comments were in an investigative report into the shooting made public Friday.

Bruce Paddock also told detectives he did not believe his brother was a “violent person” or abused drugs or alcohol.

Authorities say Paddock unleashed a hail of gunfire from his high-rise hotel suite on Oct. 1, killing 58 people and wounding hundreds more.

Investigators say they did not determine a motive for the attack.

___

10 a.m.

The gunman in last year’s Las Vegas shooting repeatedly complained to his girlfriend that he was sick and doctors could not cure him.

The account was included in an investigative report released Friday by Las Vegas police.

Marilou Danley told investigators that Stephen Paddock’s doctors told him he had a “chemical imbalance.”

She said Paddock would also get “very bad headaches” from chemical smells and would need to change hotel rooms, would not shake hands with people and often wore cotton gloves.

Danley, who is Catholic, told investigators that Paddock would also often say, “Your God doesn’t love me.”

She said Paddock had described himself as an atheist.

Authorities say Paddock unleashed a hail of gunfire from his high-rise hotel suite on Oct. 1, killing 58 people and wounding hundreds more.

9:50 a.m.

The investigation into last year’s mass shooting in Las Vegas has found that the gunman spent $1.5 million over 2 years, including money paid to casinos.

A report into the shooting made public Friday included a summary of 14 of Stephen Paddock’s bank accounts.

The report said Paddock had $2.1 million in the accounts in September 2015. By September 2017, the total amount had dropped to $530,000.

Clark County Sheriff Joe Lombardo says Paddock was a reclusive, high-stakes gambler but had not been “as successful in the gambling as he was in the previous years.”

Investigators say Paddock paid $600,000 to casinos and. More than $170,000 was paid to credit card companies.

The analysis said Paddock had also made nearly $95,000 in firearms-related purchases.

___

9:25 a.m.

Authorities in Las Vegas says the investigation into last year’s mass shooting shows no evidence of a conspiracy or a second gunman.

Clark County Sheriff Joe Lombardo says Friday that the investigation revealed that Stephen Paddock acted alone in the Oct. 1 shooting.

Lombardo says there was “no other gunman” besides Paddock.

Earlier this year, federal prosecutors brought criminal charges against a man who they say Paddock sold armor-piercing bullets.

Authorities have said the man, Douglas Haig, sold Paddock 720 rounds of tracer bullets. He has pleaded not guilty.

___

9:20 a.m.

Authorities in Las Vegas say the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit is expected to release a psychological profile of the Las Vegas mass shooter later this year.

Clark County Sheriff Joe Lombardo made the announcement as he made public results of the investigation into the shooting.

Shooter Stephen Paddock was found dead in a 32nd floor hotel suite after he opened fire on crowds at a country music festival below, killing 58 people.

___

9:10 a.m.

Authorities in Las Vegas say they cannot “definitively” determine the gunman’s motive in the Oct. 1 mass shooting that killed 58 people.

Clark County Sheriff Joe Lombardo made the announcement as he made public results of the investigation into the shooting.

Lombardo says shooter Stephen Paddock was “an unremarkable man” who showed signs of a troubled mind.

Lombardo Las Vegas police have completed their investigation into the shooting.

Paddock was found dead in the hotel room where he opened fire.

___

8:30 a.m.

Las Vegas police are making public their final report on the shooting that killed 58 people and injured hundreds last year at a country music festival and was the deadliest mass shooting in modern U.S. history.

Clark County Sheriff Joe Lombardo announced he will provide reporters with the results of 10 months investigating the Oct. 1 shooting on the Las Vegas Strip, though it’s unclear if police will have any answers as to why gunman Stephen Paddock shot from a Mandalay Bay hotel room into a concert crowd of 22,000 people.

The sheriff and the top FBI official in Nevada have said that they believe the shooter acted alone and it was not terrorism and that they may never know his motive.

Police have released 13 batches of investigative documents, 911 audio, police reports, witness statements and video over the last three months

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