#or help desmond with the grocery

[teecupangel]

Altaïr: Wait, When did I get a cult?

Malik: Better question- where’d you get the kittens?!

Desmond: More important question- Why are we in Renaissance Italy!!

Ezio: ???

When Desmond accepted his death, he expected to die.

Did he believe in the afterlife?

Not really.

The Farm had never been religious and all those lessons about how the Templars used religion only served to make Desmond ignore it altogether.

Not because he was appalled by the Templars’ ways or because he didn’t believe in a higher being or something deep like that.

No.

He avoided religion because it was boring.

To be more exact, after hearing the same lessons about the connection of the Templars to religion, it became boring.

Just another reminder of his life on the Farm.

So no.

Desmond never thought about the afterlife.

He always assumed he would die and that would be it.

Kaput.

End of story.

Whatever disappointing story he had, anyway.

It might have been disappointing for someone like William Miles but it was a nice one for Desmond. His life in New York felt like a dream. It wasn’t always a happy dream but it was…

Nice.

It felt real.

He felt real.

So when he woke up in one of the Assassin Tombs in Italy, Desmond knew he was alive.

He felt real.

He had to alive.

Then he heard two more people slowly get up and Desmond wondered if this was the afterlife.

Why else would Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Malik Al-Sayf be waking up in the same place as him.

When he learned that they were in Renaissance Italy, his first thoughts had been about Ezio. He wanted to find him. He wanted to see him. To make sure he was okay.

He had woken up too late though. The same day as the execution of his father and brothers… in Venice of all places.

He could, theoretically, go to Monteriggioni and meet with Ezio there but… Altaïr and Malik weren’t fit to travel. Something was ‘strange’ about their body, like they weren’t use to it. And it wasn’t just because they had their left ring finger. Malik admitted he could feel the pain of losing his arm over and over again. Altaïr’s body would give up after a few minutes and he seemed to be moving through sheer willpower (or stubbornness… both, it was always both with him) so their priority was to find a secure hideout that wasn’t a tomb.

It took an entire day for Desmond to get enough funds to buy them a small house in Venice and a change of clothes (pretending to be a foreigner who wishes to learn from the great artists worked enough to make the tailor less suspicious… a bit). Desmond didn’t bother to hire any servants and focused on helping Altaïr and Malik get used to their new bodies.

They both remembered up to their deaths and that left countless scars inside them. Altaïr theorized that they need to get use to their new bodies because they had been used to their weakening old bodies. Their new bodies seemed to have been created with the idea of them in their prime.

Before the failure in the temple underneath Jerusalem…

By the time Ezio entered Venice, he had already heard about them. The strange three men who kept to themselves, assisting the thieves of Venice for a price.

Most of the time the price they ask for was information.

Sometimes, they would ask for an IOU, their way of saying the thieves owe them a favor. They mostly used those favors to get the thieves to distract certain guards or to be bait.

Ezio heard from Mario that he should make their acquaintances and greet them before doing any missions in Venice.

It was their turf after all.

He did not expect their home to be a warm one.

… with lots of cats.

Too many cats.

“Altaïr! Who is this?!”

Ezio stepped inside the open doorway that led to the inner courtyard where he heard the shouting. A man wearing simple white robes held a black cat by the armpits in his arms, glaring at another man who was sitting underneath the great tree in the middle of the courtyard. Four cats were sleeping around him and he was petting another cat that was curled on his lap absentmindedly.

“That one followed me yesterday. Ask Desmond what to name that one.” The man named Altaïr-

Wait.

Altaïr?

“Stop bringing more cats! We spend more for their food than we do for ours!”

“Hello?”

Ezio turned around to the sound of the voice behind him. He didn’t even notice him approaching Ezio from behind.

The man standing in front of him holding a small stack of books smiled at him as he said, “It’s nice to finally see you, Ezio.”

“My name Desmond Ibn-La'Ahad. Welcome to our bureau.”

[ethan-acfan]

Ferral desmond has my heart. So here are some feral desmond head canons

1. Extremely flexible and amazing at hiding even before the animus

2. blast the most aggressive music with a straight face. Like his headphones will be screaming about murdering people for drugs, and he'll just be chilling.

3. He definitely takes insane amounts of melatonin to fall asleep like 40+mg (please don't do that that is not safe).

4. Has started multiple bar fights on purpose.

5. Has connections to gangs.

6. Has never paid taxes, the IRS hates him.

7. He got really drunk and decided to have an energy drink with it. He ended up hacking into government intelligence and had to skip town because the fbi had tried to kill him

8. He is really good at throwing knives but can't shoot a bow to save his life. Like give him a set of throwing knives, and he can take down abstergo in an hour, give him a bow, and he'll be dead.

9. Once he learned how to fall safely, he started jumping off tall buildings for fun

10. A complete adrenaline junkie he spends most of his time at 6 flags

11. His feral-ness is not helped by the fact that he has the diet of a pre-med student reheated coffees with a side of hope and prayers

12. Prefers sleeping on the floor will 100% take the floor over a bed the only reason he has a mattress was so his friends had some where to sleep when they came over.

13. When he gets high, he either has questions that could get him on a watchlist or he's climbing the walls

14. He enjoys scaring children

15. Is very picky about keeping things a specific way. He can sense when someone is trying to reorganize his spice cabinet

16. LOVES spicy food. If he's not crying by the end, then it wasn't hot enough

17. His notes app is so fucking random like he has his grocery list, a hit list, the Geneva conventions, the bee movie script, the fucking Bible (he's not even Christian)

18. Once, he fist fought a gang leader and won.

19. He has had to disappear on multiple occasions because the FBI tried to revoke his life subscription

20. The only reason he got taken by Templars was because he was about to skip town again, but then Abstergo walked in and he was like "sweet I won't have to run across the country again thanks guys!"

21. Back at the farm, Bill had smacked one of his friends, and desmond had to be held back by 5 people (3 of which were seriously injured after)

22. He doesn't typically get angry, but when he does, everyone scatters bc he is punching concrete, and- *how tf did he just crack the concrete with a single punch?*

23. Never sleep (he might be batman)

24. "Do it, you won't" has been said to him too many times, and each time, he proves that he will, in fact, do it

25. If you gave that man a full 8 hour sleep along with a proper meal, he would be able to take over a country

[whencyclopedia]

The Civilian View of D-Day

The Normandy landings in France, which began on D-Day, 6 June 1944, involved the largest troop movement in history, but in this article, we focus on the view from civilians directly involved in that momentous day when the Allies sought to liberate Western Europe from occupation by Nazi Germany and end the Second World War (1939-45).

D-Day Preparations

As the Allies built up their troops and resources for D-Day in the south of England, to maintain secrecy and provide areas where training exercises for the landings could be conducted, some civilians were required to temporarily move from their homes and such buildings as churches were locked and surrounded by barbed wire. Betty Tab from Slapton in Devon remembers telling her mother of the rumours about this:

My sister heard the rumour in the shop when she went to get some groceries and she said to Mum that we were all going to have to move and of course Mum says, 'That's nonsense talking like that. Where we going to go?' And she says she heard in the shop. There was a meeting called then in the village hall and that confirmed that there was going to be an evacuation of the area for the American training.

My parents just couldn't believe it. I mean, Mum just said, 'Well, no, it's not going to happen because it can't. What are we going to do? Where are we going to go?' But it had to be so. So, of course, everybody had to get their thinking caps on and think, 'Well, where are we going to go?' If you couldn't get anything yourself the authorities would help but they did want you to try and get yourself fixed up, if possible, because, as you can imagine, there were hundreds trying to move. Thousands, I suppose, really. Quite an area it was.

(Bailey, 44)

Desmond O'Neill, an official cameraman for the British Army, describes his visit to a camp of troops readying themselves for the invasion:

I remember going to one unit, I think it was the South Lancashire Regiment, and taking some film of their final preparations for D-Day…they were laagered down near Roland's Castle in Hampshire, in woods there, and I went into the camp – the whole area was actually one huge camp. Very strict all the way round.

There was certainly a very excitable, tense atmosphere amongst those chaps. They'd been training presumably for a couple of years and they knew full well that they were going to be the spearhead troops and they knew therefore that there was a good chance of them getting shot. The atmosphere there was totally different to any other unit I'd ever been to. Discipline was strict but absolutely on a hairline. A very peculiar atmosphere. I know that the casualty figures had been given to them, the presumed casualty figures.

We photographed the chaps being instructed as to what was going to happen on the morning of D-Day, where they were going in and the rest. It was all mocked up. I didn't do very much filming apart from taking pictures of these chaps in the camp. They liked it. First of all they'd never seen a cameraman before. Secondly, it was a great divertissement. You know, 'The Mrs is going to see me back in Wigan,' all this kind of thing. I think it was a welcome diversion.

(Bailey, 66-7)

Continue reading...

[assassinschaoticcreed]

Can we get some funniest Auditore moments for the year??

I got you anon 🫡

• Maria heard screaming and banging coming from upstairs. she ran upstairs to find Ezio & Claudia standing on a table, Desmond & Frederico standing on chairs throwing whatever they could at something--it was a spider. Maria saved the day by killing the spider, she silently judged them and they knew it.

• Ezio used the last of Claudia's hair products. there was a brawl in the living room that Desmond, Frederico, Petruccio and Mario were placing bets on who would win. spoiler, Claudia won.

• to get back at Ezio, Claudia put a little bit of bleach in some of her hair products that were almost all gone knowing Ezio would use it. she almost used Nair, but knew she would feel guilty. him having mis-matched hair wasn't that terrible in her eyes though.

• Desmond has accidentally broken some of Maria's favorite plates & glasses, he panicked not only out of fear but he also felt guilty. Claudia managed to get Maria into believing it was Ezio without Desmond knowing. he was very confused when Ezio was being yelled at in Italian and being dragged away by his ear and yelling "WHAT DID I DO!?"

• Frederico, Ezio & Desmond like to free run on rooftops and even do races sometimes. there was a time where Desmond tripped and fell on his face. Frederico went to help him back up and Ezio laughed, after he got done laughing he ran to help Frederico with Desmond. karma hit Ezio cause he fell through a roof. good luck explaining that.

• Maria asked Desmond to go grocery shopping, she forgot a little too late that Desmond isn't good at reading, let alone speaking Italian. he came back with half of what was needed, a goat and a few chickens. needless to say, he is no longer allowed to go shopping on his own.

• both Giovanni & Maria were terrified of teaching Ezio, Desmond and Claudia how to drive. Claudia has road rage at times, and very little patience. but she is very observant. 7/10. Ezio is too focused on the women either walking around, or driving. he also gets way too into the music he's listening to, speed limit is only 40 mph? what is he doing--80 mph?! 5.3/10, Giovanni's heart has almost stopped on a few occasions. Desmond is just a nervous wreck. speed up or slow down? do I turn my blinker on now--wait do I turn here or farther up? but he is a safe driver overall. 8/10.

[ashwritesmonsters]

The Thru-Hiker (interlude)

Female Reader x Male Mothperson (Desmond)

Prev: [Part 1] Next: [Part 2]

Words: 2k

Note: Just thought I'd put out something sorta cute and short to set up for the rest of Desmond's story! There's more coming, I'm just slow 😭

Long before Willow Grove wakes, Martha has already begun her day. The sky is still painted with stars when she ascends the spiral stairs of the old lighthouse.

Inside her cozy studio, built into the circular brick room just below where the lighthouse's lamp used to be, she brushes a hand over her equipment, the cool metal as familiar and comforting as an old friend.

She pours herself a steaming cup of coffee blacker than night. With the practiced ease of decades, Martha adjusts her headphones, the soft padding a familiar weight against her silver-streaked hair. She takes a moment to gaze out of the window at the slowly brightening sky. From here, she can see the town stirring to life - an early bird Selkie heading out to the sea, the night-shift Mothman flying home, a Lupine yawning on a porch.

As she takes her last sip of coffee, she turns the dials on her control panel, and with a deep breath, she begins another day in Willow Grove. The gentle crackle of the airwaves, then her voice, warm and comforting, fills the silence.

"Good morning, Willow Grove! It's your favorite voice, Martha, back again to brighten up your morning here on WG 98.5. What's the buzz around town, you ask? Well, let's dive in with the morning news!

Remember the Langston's garden gnome that mysteriously disappeared last week? Yes, that cherubic one with the red pointy hat. Well, it's been found! Our mayor's son, Desmond, found it perched on a pine tree during his nightly flight. Nothing like some harmless mischief to add a dash of excitement to our lives, isn't it?

Now, our Selkie friend, Bella, deserves some applause. She's just returned from a successful sardine run. Ah, to be blessed with such fresh catch for the upcoming town bake-off! Do drop by the dock to show some love. I'm sure she's got something delicious in the works.

On the Lupine side of things, have you seen the majestic new mural on the side of the grocer's? Talented painter and Lupine, Marla, has been adding the finishing touches under the moonlight. Don't miss it when you're in town for groceries, it's a true masterpiece.

Now, for the drumroll, folks! In just under two weeks, our favorite time of the year will be upon us. That's right, the annual Founding Festival is right around the corner! I can already taste the moon cakes and hear the shell flutes piping. Mothpeople, Selkies, Lupines, and Humans alike, let's get ready to celebrate the vibrant tapestry that makes Willow Grove our home. So, mark your calendars, folks!

That's all for the morning roundup, Willow Grove. Let's have a splendid day and remember - keep your smiles wide and your hearts open. Martha, signing off. Now, the music."

***

As you stand at the edge of Willow Grove, your heart swells with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The last leg of your hike along the Appalachian Trail has left you feeling haggard, your once-neat hiking outfit now with far too many holes, and the straps of your camera bag digging into your shoulders. But as you gaze upon the town, you can't help but feel that it was all worth it.

"Here goes nothing," you whisper to yourself, taking a deep breath and stepping onto the cobblestone streets.

The quaint charm of the town immediately envelopes you. The buildings are an eclectic mix of architectural styles – from Victorian cottages to modern storefronts, each adorned with colorful shutters and planter boxes overflowing with flowers. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air, tempting you to forget everything and eat your way into a carb coma.

"Wow," you murmur under your breath, already feeling your weary limbs lightening at the sight of this picturesque haven. It's unlike any place you've ever been before, and yet, it feels strangely like home.

You walk further into town, your eyes drinking in the lush, wooded surroundings. Leaves of every shade of green rustle gently above you, casting dappled sunlight onto the cobbled path. Birds flit between the branches, their cheerful melodies sounding suspiciously like a welcome. You can't resist snapping a few photos with your trusty film camera, capturing the beauty of this magical place. Maybe Desmond would like these shots; perhaps he'd be proud that you followed through on your promise to visit his hometown.

"Keep it together," you chide yourself, shaking off the butterflies threatening to take flight in your stomach. "You came here for a fresh start, remember?"

But even as you remind yourself of your initial intentions, there's no denying that the thought of possibly bumping into Desmond again sends a thrill down your spine. You went on this insane journey seeking solace in nature and photography after the breakup, but now that you're here, the possibility of rekindling things with Desmond is too close to ignore.

"Focus," you tell yourself firmly, snapping one last photo of a particularly charming ivy-covered house before making your way further into town. "You're here for you, not just for him."

With that in mind, you continue your exploration of Willow Grove, utterly enchanted by its beauty and magic. And as you wander the streets, camera in hand, you can't help but feel that maybe – just maybe – this place is exactly what you need.

"Excuse me," you approach a group of friendly-looking townsfolk, hoping they can point you in the direction of a place to stay. "I just arrived in town and was wondering if there's an inn or something nearby?"

"Of course!" one woman replies with a warm smile. "There's a lovely little bed and breakfast run by a Lupine named Evangeline. It's just down the road, on the left side."

"Thank you," you say gratefully, already feeling welcomed by their kindness.

"By the way," another person chimes in, "You're just in time for our Founding Festival! We're all getting ready for it, so there's a lot of excitement around town."

"Sounds like fun," you reply, imagining the celebrations and camaraderie that must come with a big event in a small town. "I'll definitely check it out."

With their directions in mind, you continue on your way, finding yourself in the town square not long after. A weathered, important-looking statue stands at its center, depicting a Mothman, a Selkie, and a Lupine, all standing tall and proud in unity. The plaque at its base is weathered to the point of being near-unreadable, but it's easy to gather that the town has been quite diverse ever since its founding hundreds of years ago.

Around the statue, townsfolk are busy setting up stalls and decorations, their laughter and cheerfulness filling the air. You can't help but feel a sense of belonging in this close-knit community, and the anticipation of the upcoming festival only fuels your excitement. You raise your camera to your eye, and unlike people in the big cities, the townsfolk don't mind that you're snapping a picture with them in it. If anything, you think they smile a little wider.

After taking in the scene, you make your way to the bed and breakfast, finding it as charming and inviting as described. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafts through the air as you enter, and a fire crackles in the hearth, welcoming you with its warmth. You can't help but smile as you approach the front desk, where a friendly Lupine woman greets you, her fur dark brown and shiny. She's slightly hunched over in a way that makes you think either the ceiling is low or she is huge.

"Welcome to my bed and breakfast," she says with a kind smile, tactfully baring only the faintest hint of her sharp teeth. "I'm Evangeline. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Evangeline," you reply, returning her smile. "I'd like to book a room for a couple of weeks, if that's possible."

"Of course! We have plenty of availability." She begins the check-in process by pulling out an actual paper and pen with her paws, and you feel a sense of relief knowing you've found a place to call home during your time in Willow Grove.

As you settle into your new lodgings, the excitement of the upcoming Founding Festival mingles with the possibility of seeing Desmond again. You remind yourself not to let that prospect overshadow the personal journey you're on, but there's no denying the allure of reconnecting with him. For now, though, you focus on the present — immersing yourself in the charm of Willow Grove, camera always at the ready for picture-perfect moments in this picture-perfect town.

The late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as you close the door behind you. Your new temporary sanctuary is cozy, with a plush bed and antique wooden dresser, adorned with framed photos of Willow Grove's natural beauty. The anticipation of meeting Desmond again brings a fluttery sensation to your chest, like butterflies dancing between each heartbeat.

"Alright," you say to yourself, trying to shake off the nerves. "Get it together."

As you unpack your belongings, your thoughts drift back to the night you shared with Desmond on the trail. In the grand scheme of things, it was so brief and quick. But between the vulnerability you both had exposed to each other and the heartfelt conversation around the fire (and the mind-blowing sex), you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. So deeply drawn to him that you were here now.

"Wish I could've called ahead," you mutter, placing your camera on the dresser. "Would that have been less... weird?"

You pause, staring at your reflection in the mirror above the dresser. A tired but determined face gazes back, and you take a deep breath. You paid for two weeks in this room—there's no turning back now.

"Okay, let's think this through," you tell yourself, sitting on the bed. "If Desmond thinks I'm crazy for coming here, I'll just... deal with it. We're both adults. Right? Besides, I didn't come all this way just for him. I came for me too."

You shuck off your dirty windbreaker, shaking your head. You're too tired to think things through. You lay back on the bed, the soft mattress embracing you like a specific long lost lover. The tiredness you feel goes beyond the physical. You're mentally and physically exhausted from living like a cavewoman the past few months. But here, in this cozy little room, surrounded by the enchanting beauty of Willow Grove, you finally feel a sense of peace. The kind of peace that comes from being in a place that feels like home, even if it's your first time being here.

As you close your eyes, you think of Desmond, his chitinous features and piercing carnelian eyes. You can almost feel his touch again, his mandibles on your lips, his strong arms wrapped around your body, his proboscis... elsewhere. You let out a sigh, knowing that there's no point in kidding yourself. You came here for Desmond, and Desmond alone. You're not sure where things stand between the two of you, but you know that there's a connection between you that can't be ignored. Even if it makes you look a little crazy. Okay, a lot crazy.

But for now, you allow yourself to drift into a peaceful slumber. This is the first real bed you've slept in for months, and tomorrow, you'll take the first real shower in months. And also apologize to the kind Lupine lady downstairs for getting your filth all over the sheets.

[carrickbender]

Sunday 7-

I had 2 drs appointments on Friday, one of which was a CT that was supposed to help figure out why I have so much pain in my right testicle(TMI). It saw nothing, so now we get to keep guessing. Boss told me to "take weekend off", but was doing the morning orders/teams call every day between 5-7, trying to fix stuff and do reconciliations. Glad they trust me with this, but wanna give a 'high five' to my imposter syndrome telling me im gonna get fired any day.

- had to take Henry to urgent care on Saturday, and it turns out he has the start of pneumonia. Wanna give a big shout out to the ARNP who told me she really thought he should just 'ride it out' after 10 days of awful coughing and that their kids 'were still in it after a month'. Yeah, the PA said there was no way he wasn't leaving without antibiotics. Made me feel like an asshole parent... he's on day 2, and already more of himself.

- I went back up there today for me, and I have pretty severe bronchitis. He put me on a different antibiotic, more steroids, refilled my inhaler, and actually listened to me. I mean, I appreciated his care and actual concern. Fun situation: while I was there, a tree fell across the powerlines and tripped off most of town, so they had to go to back-up generators. There was a hall full of people, in a brown out, that the staff were managing like pros. Seriously, we are lucky to have that place.

-after today, I have 4 payments left on my car. 4. I think we will wait till June, and then it's 4 door vehicle time. The lunabug is getting taller, and we want to go see my dad/stepmom in Eastern Wa in something that has space. Everybody and their dog has sent me one of those damn, "interested in a new car loan? It's OK to check your rate, and won't hurt your credit" messages and as soon as my credit union chimes in, I'm sure we'll have something to talk about.

- speaking of something to not talk about, I learned a new term and joined a subredit today called 'dead bedrooms', and yeah, checks out completely. I don't have a therapist yet, so it's not a bad sorce of info or me trying to figure out what I have messed up(apparently, yet again).

- so I had to stop at Walmart(yay for small business destruction by a corporate giant!) for meds/a few groceries and this dingus in an f250 with a WA st license plate celebrating wrestling decided he needed to back into a compact space that was in front of me. He almost hit the first car on the way in(who had to stop and back up), but then he literally backed his 'not a farm truck but a penis extension' into the compact space in front of me, and thanks to me backing up knowing he would have been sticking out if I didn't, he took 3 feet of my spot and his hitch was literally 4 inches from hitting my car. In my space. And that entitled piece of shit didn't even look to see how close he was, he just walked away like he was the king of backing up. Look, I have no problem with wrestlers, but the only one who matters in my life is John Irving, and I think he would have been sensitive enough not to be a shit bird like that! (Part 1 of 2 rant)

- I wanted to share a thought or 2 about something I've seen going about on here for a little bit, because I think i need to say avfew things:

I love that I have so many people I follow here who take stances for the poor, marginalized, POC, and other underrepresented communities-not just in a perfunctory way of saying 'I support you'; but quite a few of you are actually involved in helping bring about change and strengthening communities by being unselfish hands that help heal hearts- you inspire me to be a better person, really. As a person of faith, I see you doing the work that many faith leaders of old spoke of when they talked of when they said, "serve as you have been served, and love as you have been loved"- and seeing that faith in action, it has made me read more about liberation theology and revisit the works of the Rt Rev Bishop Desmond Tutu, Dietrich Bonhoffer, and Dr Martin Luther King jr(and of the later, 'Why I oppose the war in Vietnam' is just as relevant now as it was then). I thank you all for this inspiration and work.

But what I have really come to realize about myself is that I am a person of privilege. I am a white CISmale, straight, accessed a good education at a young age, had a huge extended family that helped raise me when my mom had me at 17, have never had to worry about my gender causing me to be looked at differently, have a good job(for now), have access to clean water, don't live in a food desert, and save for the fact that I understood discrimination at a very young age thanks to my last name, I know that I have lived a mostly privileged life.

But there is one privilege I will never take for granted, and that's voting. And yes, I don't always vote my conscience because at heart, I am a democratic Socialist. But I always vote in my local and state house election because it is in places like your local school board or your city council where you can stop the spread of groups like 'Moms for Liberty' or any of the other neo-fascist organizations that seek to change education or change for the worse how cities deal with their population experiencing homelessness. If I stay home from these elections, I feel like I'm spitting on my great grandmother's grave(whose name I found on the voting roll of the first year that women could vote in Basin, Montana). I feel like I'm not being a good parent or a community member for sticking up for my sons right(or other kids rights) to read books in the school library that have a rainbow(let alone letting kids see representation for non-traditional families that are just the same as everybody else!). So please, if you're feeling crappy about the election, this right here is the biggest way to affect change if you don't know where to start or affirm.there is something you can do to really make a difference. Don't see enough representation of POC on your city council, especially in multi-ethnic communities? Hear a trans voice that would make for a great representative for all people? Fill in those boxes, act locally, and get those folks elected! It works if you work it!

I hear a lot of voices talking about Joe Biden these days, and I feel numb and angry about a lot of things that have been done in our names too: I hate HATE what is happening in Gaza(PBUT); I hate our support of Saudi Arabia and the proxy war in Yemen; Our jaunts in Zaire and Jordan; I hate that we are no closer to universal Healthcare, but I understand that that road and others lead through a Republican congress. I love that child poverty is declining, but programmes that were designed to make this a reality are sunsetting. We have a barbaric and truly archaic policy on immigration, and every time(that's not hyperbole, either), every goddamn time a good bill has been proposed to deal with the issue, the bill has been met by the xenophobic forces on the right and their deep pockets fueling the media and it is destroyed out of fear. And let's not forget student debt forgiveness, the continued dismantling of public education by states like Texas and Florida, Our goal of dismantling of the prison industrial complex, the protection of reproductive healthcare, and the dire need for nationwide police reform.

Yes, our laundry list is long, but it is full of necessary things that need to change or be codified in order for a great change to happen for generations and the continuatonof this great experiment called the U.S.A.

And for all of this and more, I ask: where are the leaders of our generation on this? Where are the ghosts of John Lewis, of Paul Wellstone, and of Shirley Chisholm? Thankfully, our leaders and the ghostsbof their forebearers are there- they are doing their best, and thankfully we(those of us on the progressive side) are represented by POC women who will go to the mat for these issues and more, being inspired by those who came before them. But the more that I think about it, it's time that we offer an ultimatum: we'll give you our voting block, Joe. We'll help bring along the majority of the 9 million new voters who are coming of age this year, so you will have a supermajority with which you can put forth truly transformative legislation. Sure, you'll get us- for now. But if it's businesses as usual, if we are not knocking over the tables of the money changers, and if we are not investing more in programmes of social uplift than we are for the military industrial complex, then we strike. Not in 2028, as one of my absolute favourite people on here suggest, but in 2026, in early summer. Because it is people like me, those of us who have know privilege and continue to know it, who are finally waking up to the truth that we need to do the work. We need to do the heavy lifting. I'm willing to make that offer, and I hope I'm not alone, because there either needs to be a change in the way our political system operates, or we walk away and start our own political entity. I hope I'm not alone in the way I feel, and I hope that we can all make the proposition. We have the leaders, we have the people, now it's about courage. It's time.

But for today, if you can pull the lever for democrats nationally, I totally get it. But consider what I said about voting locally, and in local races and elect people who represent your values. It matters.

- ok, rant over: if you made it this far, know that I love you all and I hope this week brings good things for you. Remember what Pete Seeger always said: "Take it easy, but take it". Much love yall!

[fakesurprise]

The Jakery

Once upon a time there was a small town. It was on maps, to be sure, but it was a place people came from, and not a place people went to, at least that was how it seemed to outsiders. But any house can become a home with effort, and a place is far more than space much as how a map is never the territory. The town had phone lines only above the ground, one intersection where the lights sometimes worked, a grocery store that was also the post office and gas station. The closest thing the town had to a church was the coffee shop that did breakfast and sometimes lunches if Lucile was up to it.

A third of the buildings were empty and desolate, a third run-down, but the rest of the town was cared for. Lawns and gardens were maintained, and if you couldn’t do it a neighbour would help. The small mechanics shop at the edge of town rented out equipment on credit and did a whip-around for money when it came time to pay the taxman each year. It was, of course, not all sunshine and roses, as you never get a rose without also worrying about thorns.

Most downs have at least one person in them that draws people together in a nice, simmering stew of resentment. The town of Fallbrook had Desmond Zane, who worked as a clerk at the small townhall and through whose hands many official documents and decisions vanished or were passed on to others. It also had Obadiah Brooks, who was a land developer from the City who had plans for Fallbrook and more money than God gave a baby sense.

Mrs. Colgate who helped run the local store said everyone town had a person Like That, and the Lord had seen fit to bless Fallbrook with two. Watching them work against each other kept the rest of the town quite entertained, and kept them from messing with the lives of others, which was an added bonus the locals appreciated. Their battle of two years had shown no signs of stopping when the bakery came to town.

Most bakeries don’t actually do that, but the fact of the matter was that one day there was no bakery, and the next day Fallbrook had one. It was two stories, with a giant donut made of neon on the roof and amazing murals of coffee, snacks and food on the walls that some said seemed to move. Everyone was confused by it, mostly because Desmond only approved new businesses if he wanted to, and he would have stopped Obadiah from sneezing if he thought that was possible.

Sarah Parks, the Sheriff, was called in from Two Towns, which was only one town over. She didn’t come by often, as Fallbrook didn’t have a bar and in her experience most problems in a small town boiled down to the bar or church, and Fallbrook lacking both meant she quite liked it. Sometimes she drove through just for the peace and quiet, or so the locals claimed.

The bakery had up a sign calling it the ‘Jaykery’ in letters that changed colour with the sun, and the smell of coffee roasting like a song coming from it was enough to worry people that the coffee shop might close. Beans were being crushed, every drink was a pour-over, the cookies were savoury and the donuts as sweet as could be. A man and woman ran the bakery. He was easy to forget: no slight upon it, but some people are. She wasn’t as easy to forget. The boy who was at the counter was never forgotten, even by those who never met him.

Sarah’s deputy Jody Atkins had gone in first and told the woman to ‘smile, love’ and then he booked it out as fast as he could and refused to go back in. Jody wasn’t a smart man, but he knew which way the winds blew. Sarah went in next, and came out a few minutes later. She had a coffee and donut and came into the coffee shop to take a seat at the counter.

As a rule, she didn’t do that when on duty. Not that anyone would have minded, but that made it a surprise and a half.

“The bakery won’t be here long,” she said, so that everyone could hear, and made certain that Widow Harlan could, which meant that everyone would know. “It is jaysome, so there is nothing I can do about it.”

No one knew what that word meant, but there was a finality to it that took people by surprise. Sarah didn’t say anything more, just left back to Two Towns and didn’t come back for a week.

It was Desmond Zane who went into the bakery first later that same day, marching to the door and inside with a bristling rage. Some said he looked funny, but others were worried at his anger for reasons they could never quite explain. The boy behind the counter was often in the back, but quite happy to be in the front too. He had that smile most kids forgets, all innocence and excited and just happy about the world, for the world, and for a lot more than that as well.

Desmond demanded to see the manager, not pausing one iota at the boy’s grin. Lucile’s daughter Becky was in the Jakery, to figure out the competition and trying not to worry. She said the boy said he was the manager, with an awesome certainty that even Desmond paused at. But only for a moment before he threatened to shut it down. The man came out of the back at that.

“How will I help you?” he asked, which struck Becky as an odd thing to say even at the time.

“I demand to speak to the manager.”

“You did. We have permits, if you want to see them.”

“I didn’t sign those,” Desmond hissed.

The man shrugged lightly.

“I can shut you down for –.”

“You seem to be under a great deal of stress,” the man said with a calm that seemed unbreakable.

“Your shop shouldn’t be here!” Desmond shoved a finger into the man’s chest.

“Nevertheless.” The man stared into Desmond. Becky had no other words for it. His gaze seemed to sharpen for a moment, all traces of boredom and amusement gone. “I think you should leave.”

Desmond left, sputtering and furious, but also with a free donut from the boy. His anger had hit a wall it could not get through, and Becky was worried except the man told her it would be all right, and she believed him without knowing why.

What happened with Obadiah Brooks only Mrs. Colgate saw. He came into town in his fancy car with cowboy boots that never been near a cow, and that smile right out of a movie and just as fake as could be. He shook people’s hands like he was campaigning and entered the Jakery with a booming laugh and ordering six boxes of donuts for some guests he was going to have to his mansion that night.

The boy was very excited and informed Obadiah that the dough would sing him good fortune. He ignored that and the boy bounced into the back. The woman came out, and Obadiah turned the full force of his charm on her, asking who had funded the bakery and if they needed a new business partner.

The woman blinked in surprise at that, then studied Obadiah for a long moment, her smile tight.

Obadiah was a lot of things that no one would have called good, but he stood his ground under her regard unlike the deputy.

“The bakery was funded by jaysome,” she said, in a tone that made Mrs. Colgate look over sharply. There was a warning in it, and Obadiah got that and ignored it as smoothly. “Jay will deliver the donuts to your home later. He likes tips.”

Obadiah Brooks laughed at that, short and ugly and as close to a real laugh as anyone had heard from him. “The only tip I offer is to work harder and not need handouts from others.”

“Ah,” the woman said, and whatever other warning or hint she may have offered vanished with that word.

Obadiah left his address, paid in cash to the penny with no tip and left.

The woman put it all in the drawer, and they closed up for the day not longer after.

No living soul knows what happened that night. Obadiah Brooks had a party in his mansion, but the music stopped before ten, which it never did. The mansion was empty of vehicles and people the next morning, and he was never seen again.

The town record hall had a freak accident that morning as well, the office collapsing under a leak and Desmond Zane was forced to take a vacation as his home also had a rat infestation that the rest of the town never had.

That afternoon the Jakery closed and was gone as if it had never been. The coffee shop found all the supplies from it outside their back door on the third morning, and the profits from it ended up in the kitty at the mechanic’s shop. Baked goods and staples ended up at the grocery store and Lucile, who always started her work before dawn, saw the three strangers drop off the pallet thought she said it wasn’t a pallet and they didn’t drop it off like people did. The boy hugged her and she swore that the sickness she’d been ignoring went away with the hug too.

They didn’t tell anyone else why they came or left, but the Jakery was an empty lot so quickly that some believed no one had ever built a bakery there at all. The sheriff never talked about it, and after a time everyone else stopped as well. Obadiah never came back, and Desmond returned from his vacation a fair bit easier for everyone in Fallbrook to get along with.

It wasn’t anything like a miracle, but it was enough.

[briefhottubcoffee]

Hello! This is the very first story I have ever put out into the world! I am very nervous and have ~social anxiety~ so please be kind!

This story came to me looking at all the stuff my friend with kids has on her fridge and I thought it would be perfect for the Forgers. My husband helped me brainstorm ideas so it may be multi-chapter. I’m waiting to make an AO3 account. Again I’ve never done this before lol. Apologies if formatting is weird, I only use tumblr on mobile.

Refrigerator Magnets

Loid is grocery shopping with his daughter one Thursday evening, the sky cloudy and gray. He’s so tired. He was assigned two extra side missions this week, dull and mind numbing, but then a patient at the hospital actually did kick him in the stomach! It wasn't just an excuse! Leaving a bruise and a slight wince to appear on his face occasionally when he inhaled. But they needed groceries for this weekend and Anya was still bustling with energy when she came home from school, Yor working late. So out he went, robotically putting ingredients in the cart and leaning his body on it far more than he usually did. Anya was skipping beside the cart, humming a tune, the exact opposite of her father. He could never get on her level.

And then she spotted them, hanging from an endcap as Loid browsed the juices, a package of refrigerator magnets, different colorful animals.

“Papa!” Look! This looks just like Agent Penguinman! And this one is like the lion I saw at the zoo!”

He reaches for the pack, handing them to her for a closer look. She coos at them before putting a cute, purposeful look on her face, flipping the package and standing on her toes for him to see.

“Neat,” he says mildly, gesturing for her to throw them in the cart, and letting her help him steer. He grabs his ingredients and her favorite candy bar before heading to the front. I am a normal, tired father, he thinks, apologetically smiling at the cashier as Anya, pushing the cart she can’t even see over, lightly crashes into the corner of the register.

******

Another Thursday evening, this one a little brighter with Yor’s pretty smile directed at him and the refrigerator magnets bringing some color to their kitchen. She’s helping him start dinner, when the front door bangs open and Bond shoots up from his nap. “Anya has returned!” their daughter shouts, grabbing for her dog.

“Welcome home, Anya. How was your day?” Yor asks, taking her hat from her head.

“Oh! Guess what?” Anya says. She unzips her backpack and rummages through before pulling out a rose pink envelope. “Anya was invited to a birthday party!” She lifts the invitation high above her head, before Loid grabs it.

“Oh? I’m glad you're making more friends.” An excellent source of information for Operation Strix. The parents of this child might be important in Ostania. It might be crucial for her to attend.

“Well, Hannah isn’t really Anya’s friend. She took the last cookie in the cafeteria,” Anya pouts.

“Well… she invited you to her party.”

“She invited the whole class,” Anya shrugs. “But can we go Papa? Can we? I’ll be nice to Hannah! She said there would be ponies! Ponies that we could ride?! And a big slide and an orch-ee-stra, and a magician!”

“My goodness! What an elaborate birthday party!” Yor says, opening the card and marveling at the beautiful, ornate invitation inside, fit more for a formal wedding than a seven-year-olds birthday party. Loid blinks. He supposes this is the norm for rich, pompous people, to spoil their children with extravagant birthday parties and ponies. Anya’s attempts to befriend her more wealthy classmates have not gone particularly well, Damian Desmond in particular, which caused Loid intense stomach pains, but this party could indeed be a big opportunity for the mission. He could meet some upper-class parents, perhaps gather intel, and then, of course, since this girl invited the whole class, Damian Desmond himself might attend. Could his parents even show? His reclusive target? Surely not, but this is still a good chance to get another foot in the door with his young son, a chance for Anya to play nice outside of school, a positive step forward!

“Alright, we can go,” he says. “But you’ll need to get her a present.”

“Ooohh lets go to the Big Toy Store! I can get Hannah a Mega Elephant Circus!” Anya squeals, spreading her arms wide. Loid turns to watch Yor with her pretty smile tack the pricey, shimmery invitation on the fridge with the elephant magnet. This birthday party is going to be a big expense for Operation Strix.

****

The invitation stays on the fridge for weeks, a reminder of the upcoming party and ooting for the Forgers. Before the party, the family heads to the toy store, the huge, expensive toy store, with giant stuffed animals and a freaking merry-go-round in the center.

Anya and Yor spend time checking out all the toys, Anya pointing out all the ones she wants. Loid trails behind, tired again. They settle on getting Hannah a doll tea set, reasonably priced, but still, hopefully, expensive enough to satisfy a rich family. Loid then sits on a bench to rest, watching Anya bounce up and down beside Yor, both waiting to ride the merry-go-round. Yor is such a huge help at times like these. He’s grumpy and worn down. Side missions pile up, patients pile up, and he feels a gnawing frustration at his lack of progress with Operation Strix. Yor’s pretty smile and cheery disposition make up for his failures with their daughter. She can get on Anya’s level. She can match Anya’s excitement about riding on a merry-go-round. She can marvel at a giant stuffed kangaroo with her and come up with a silly name for both the mama and the baby in her pouch. She can crouch down and help Anya snap blocks together as they build a castle complete with a watch tower for Bondman. Present and engaged and sweet all the time.

Last night, Anya was fussy when it was time to go to bed, too wound up to be sleepy. She wailed at Loid as he helped her with her pajamas and tried to tug the covers over her, rolling around in bed instead and kicking her feet up on the wall. Loid felt impatient and drained as he sighed at her. This is impossible. Bedtime seemed like a straightforward task but was so draining in reality. He felt like he would never get this parenting cover right. Yor came in after hearing their bickering, and laughed softly, kneeling down next to Loid.

“Let’s try to hush a bit,” she calmly said to their daughter, smoothing her hair down. Loid watched as Yor pulled out a book and began reading to Anya, and what an idyllic picture they made. Yor’s voice came out in such a tranquil way, her eyes twinkling in the dark room. He couldn’t look away. She kept stroking Anya’s hair, her voice like a melody, her presence like a soothing light. Like a miracle, Anya yawned and her eyes became heavy, and Yor shot Loid a smug look and he felt like he was flying. She was magic. She could do the impossible.

In the present, Loid watches with a frown as the pair climb aboard, Anya tugging on her mothers arm and pointing to the two horses she wants to ride.

“Will the ponies at the party be green and pink like these?” he hears his daughter shout.

“I doubt it,” Yor replies with a giggle, helping the girl on to her horse. The music starts and the ride begins to spin, daughter and mother sending exuberant waves to Loid as they squeal with excitement. Loid feels pensive and melancholy. Cranky. I am no good at this, he thinks. Appearances are everything for a spy, and he supposes he is a good father at surface level, to the bystanders who see him wave to his wife and daughter each and every time they make their way around. But he feels lacking. Anya is a sweet girl and Yor is a lovable mother, he feels another painful kick of guilt at the thought of using them, deceiving them. They deserve the real thing, a matching father to complete their pretty picture, something perfect enough to tack on the fridge and admire everyday. Not someone playing pretend.

It’s what needs to be done, he thinks with finality. He centers his thoughts, reminds himself of the mission, of war, of the invitation on the refrigerator with its elephant magnet, of what this seven-year-old’s birthday party means for world peace. Pull yourself together. He has rich parents to schmooze with, he must appear charming and affable, he must ask all the right questions, not too probing, not too demanding. He has to appear engaged and interested. He has to fit in with the other good fathers. They will be charming and affable, they will laugh with joy at their kids, walk next to them with their hands on their backs as they ride ponies, they will wipe their faces when they're covered in icing. He has to remind his daughter to play nice with Damain Desmond, to be on her best behavior, to not eat too much cake.

He has to crush this child's birthday party. World peace depends on it.

****

The party is too much. It’s so extravagant and pink. There are balloons and peonies everywhere, the birthday girl sits on a gold chair in a pink tutu with a crown on her head. Loid sighs. Next to him, Yor frets with the pink gift bag she’s holding, her lips in a thin line and a crinkle between her brows.

Loid leans towards her. “Rich people,” he scoffs with an eye roll and Yor looks up at him and giggles, swats his arm.

“Hi Becky!” Anya shouts as she pelts across the perfect, giant lawn.

“Anya, don’t crash into anyone,” Loid warns looking around. He immediately hones in on his main target for the day, a young boy with dark hair and a pompous arrogance about him, surrounded by two other boys and glaring at Anya as she twirls around, showing Becky her dress. Loid thinks of a way to move his mission forward, a way for Damian to bring up the Forgers to his father, who is definitely not here, so that he is interested. Perhaps there is a servant or even the boy's mother present? Someone closer to the man in question. Loid and Yor are then approached by the mother of the girl of the hour. Hannah’s family are rich socialites, the father a bank executive.

It’s time to schmooze.

The shmoozing goes well, the birthday party is in full swing. There’s a damn violin quartet in the corner, and waiters dressed as princes and princesses serving hors d'oeuvres to the parents. Loid has gotten a little useful information to bring back to Wise; the fathers had retreated to the mansion shortly after the party began. Loid had joined them for a bit, engaging in a game of poker and listening to the men complain about their wives and their jobs, gathering intel in a room full of cigar smoke. But he grew tired of it.

I have to make sure she and Damian are getting on well, he justifies to himself as he ventures back out to the lawn. He is the only father out there. He sees Yor standing awkwardly with the other mothers and slides next to her, resting a hand lightly at her waist.

“What are you doing back here, Dr. Forger?” Hannah’s mother asks, surprised.

“Oh I wanted to check on Anya. And I missed my wife,” he replies with a charming smile and Yor stiffens and flushes as the other women aww at them.

Anya and Damian are not interacting, at least not in any friendly way. Loid watches as Damian shoves past Anya and Becky in line for the pony ride.

“Rude!” Shouts Becky as Anya sticks her tongue out at him. Well… their relationship hasn’t improved much.

Loid blinks. There are at least ten ponies and only one handler, he seems a little overwhelmed at the task at hand, monitoring young children on little ponies trotting in a circle.

“Is no one going to help?” Loid asks Hannah’s mother, gesturing towards the pony ride.

“Well the boys are busy inside,” she replies with a sniff. “He’s got it covered.” And that’s the end of that.

This isn’t going to go well, Loid thinks as he rushes over, just as Damian Desmond tries to climb on to a pony alone. His foot gets stuck in the saddle, and he falls over. Tears well in his eyes as the other kids laugh at him. All except Anya who walks over to him.

“Here you go!” Anya extends her hand to Damian. He frowns at her, a bright red blush on his cheeks. “I don’t need your help, dummy!’ He shouts in reply. Despite the kids reaction, Loid is proud of his daughter for being caring and kind, compassionate and warm. Yor is raising her well.

“I’ll help you up,” Loid says, picking up the boy and placing him on the horse. Damian looks at him suspiciously. “You’re shorties- I mean- you’re Anya’s pops right?” he asks.

“Yup! Horses can be a bit intimidating at first, but you’re up here now! Just hold on tight to the reins and you’ll do great,” He says. His mind is running a million miles an hour. Don’t overdo it, this may get back to Desmond, be kind and fatherly, I am a good dad, I am a normal dad.

Damian is still blushing but mutters his thanks. Loid realizes this kid is alone. No guardian for him, he must have attended with friends. The ponies begin their circle. Loid stays nearby and straightens up the kids as needed, teaches them how to tuck their shoes into the saddle, how to hold the reins correctly. The handler shoots him a grateful look. The mothers are looking at him curiously. Maybe he messed up. Maybe he should be inside with the other men. Maybe it’s not normal, but it didn’t seem right to him to be like the other fathers. The men smoke inside while the women gossip outside, helpers and nannies monitoring the kids. It was so detached. He had felt something unsettling in his gut, something he couldn’t ignore. Maybe he actually did want to check on his daughter, maybe he actually did miss his wife. She’s looking at him now, her pretty smile back. He feels like he’s flying again. Anya is laughing with joy on her pony, the sound like bells, waving at her father.

No good, this is no good. This isn’t going to go well. He tries to center himself, remind himself why he’s actually here. But he can’t. He’s going around in circles. He’s flying high.

****

They return home from the party, everyone exhausted. Anya is quick to settle for the night, he considers nights like these where she is actually tired a miracle indeed.

“Night, Papa,” Anya mutters, closing her eyes and snuggling with her chimera. Loid hums and smiles, affection rising in his stomach. Anya is a good kid. Disruptive and loud, but sweet and happy, reminding him of the good in the world.

Once she is tucked into bed, he sighs and settles on to the couch, petting his dog on the head. Yor’s quiet tonight. She shuffles around the kitchen making tea, he sees her take down the party invitation from the refrigerator and tuck it into a box they keep on a shelf. She hands him his tea and he shoots her a grateful smile, but she’s looking away, her lips in a tight line and her frown back between her brows.

“What’s up?” He asks, letting the steam from the tea settle on his face. She looks at him and blushes, his heart stutters in his chest.

She sits with her tea and shakes her head. They stay silent. He listens to his dog snoring softly and the clock tick, as he and his wife watch each other with their tea. It’s a good night. It was a good day. He spent time with his family, for the mission, he reminds himself. He feels calm and warm, his mind slow, helpless, thinking of the picture they make in this living room, an idyllic picture.

“You’re a good father,” she says finally. “One of the best, I think.”

She blushes pink and her eyes twinkle and her pretty smile is back and Oh. I am flying again.

[mirza-majoris]

Chapter 2 : The man on the motorbike

Desmond was upstairs, in his room, reading a book he had borrowed to his father about archaeology and Azran stuff. Donald Rutledge was the only well-known expert as it seemed that had written a book so detailed and so complete about this civilisation, and it was incredibly thin regarding how advanced such people must have been. However, every information about them was good to take, and when he would grow up, he would be helpful to his father, he would find back his brother and his mother, and he would make sure his family would be complete again. So, while his father was out for groceries, he could borrow his books and look at his research a bit without worrying him too much.

However, the more the time was passing by and the more Desmond was beginning to worry since his father hadn’t come home yet. Each time he would go to London, the boy was always worried he would be caught by some undercover agents, or spotted, or lost, or worst, and since his father was the only family he had left, he was more than worried in fact, he was terrified that someone could take him away from him one more time.

Just when he thought he would go to the shop down the street, too afraid to stay alone again, he heard the sound of a motorbike running outside and then stop near the house, while two people seemed to be bickering about something.

–For God’s sake, you truly are insane when you ride that… that… that machine !

It was his father’s voice ! Without thinking twice, he quickly put the book back on the shelf in his father’s working room and he quickly came down the stairs to go to the hall, hearing things more clearly and suddenly pausing in front of the door. Wait, if his father was speaking to someone… then who would it be ? And why were they so angry at each other ?

–Oh, shet up, sassenach, A’m perfec’ly able to drive that beauty anywhere, with or without yer commentary !

Without waiting much longer, Leon sighed, got down the motorbike and quickly entered the house to look for his son… almost falling on him when he saw the youngest behind the door, anxiously looking at it.

–Hershel- !

He kneeled and took his son in his arms before hugging him tight, relieved to see that he was doing fine. Since Targent first came to their house, he has had some sleepless nights making sure they were never around their location, and the whole event left him almost paranoid about it. Losing his son would be the last strike of a dagger inside his poor broken heart.

–I’m sorry, I was so worried… Everything is alright my boy ?

Desmond was getting more worried himself since his father’s behaviour was everything but normal.

–Dad ?… What happened ?

But, as soon as he saw the other man getting down the motorbike, he took a few steps back and looked less of a child all of the sudden, completely analysing the manners of this new face. The same age his father, approximatively, not so tall, not a friend, a perfect stranger, strong Scottish accent, not really serious right now, and too much at ease. How could he be so relaxed and how on earth could his father be coming home with such an individual ?

–Who is he, dad ?

The Scottish man looked at the young boy, with a puzzled expression engraved on his face. He didn’t know exactly why but he had been driving this strange English man to his home because he heard him called his son. He had done it because of the light tremolo in his voice, because of the worry of this man for his child, because Targent was everything but merciful with children, and because somehow this man seemed truly pathetic. Of course.

–Hey, balach beag, how’s yer day ?

–Who are you ?

Desmond snapped before getting in front of his father, between both men, not ready to let anyone enter their home to take anyone away. His little hands were trembling like crazy but he stood his ground and was trying to look as intimidating as possible.

–I-If you’re there to hurt my dad, t-then you’ll have to go… to go through me f-first !

–Hershel…

Leon sighed and his expression grew more guilty. It was because of him if Hershel was behaving like this, trying to put all that pressure on his shoulder rather than just letting his father bear it. It was because he hadn’t been able to protect either Rachel nor Theodore. Because of Targent, they were forced to live like outcasts, always hiding, never trusting anyone but themselves, and moving from place to place to make sure never to be caught since that bloody organisation knew he was the archaeologist with the most extended comprehension of this bloody Azran civilisation. All of this, it was because of him.

Slowly, he took Hershel’s arm and stood up to ask him silently to do or say nothing too harsh.

–It’s fine, my boy, he helped me coming home.

–Aye, and we met at-

–We met at the grocery shop, interrupted Leon before the lad could finish his sentence.

It was not necessary to worry Hershel more than he already was. But the boy looked at his father, then stared at the man and at his motorbike. Then she shook his head with a very sad expression.

–Dad, you brought no groceries… And you were way too shaken when you hugged me. Please, tell me the truth… Do we have to move out again ?

This was also a subtle way to ask, in front of that stranger, if Targent had found them again. Leon sighed again, deeply ashamed of himself and how bad of a father he was.

–I… I think so… But it would just be a precaution, to be sure-

The Scottish man, however, was still there and he was a bit embarrassed, because it was somehow a very good delusion if the English man would hope to stay near London while having been spotted so close to his location.

–Hum, A don’t mean to int’rupt ye but… Ye better go far from London. In the deep countryside, mate. Because they’ve found ye around, and they won’t give up. It's as braid as it's lang, ye can’t stay here.

Leon stared at the man and his dark red eyes seemed even darker.

–I think we had an agreement. I thank you for the help but as you remember, you have to go back to your place already.

The man in leather jacket raised an eyebrow, then sighed and rolled his eyes.

–A've no jist come up the Clyde on a bike, ye know ? Targent never gives up, do they ?

Desmond opened wide eyes.

–Wait- you know about them ? Dad, what’s going on here ?

–Nothing Hershel, our friend was on the departure anyway, right, « mate » ?

The man sighed again. They were off their heid, no doubt, but anyway he couldn’t get involved with them. For how much he would hate a child to get into troubles, he couldn’t allow himself to be close to people. He almost paid it too highly years ago. But for now he had at least to spend the night in this little town since it was beginning to be late and his motorbike had run out of gas.

–Ok, ok… A’ll leave, but… at least, do ye know where A can take some rest ? A didna get a blink o sleep last nicht. Is there an inn ? a hotel ? something ? where A can spend the nicht ?

Despite not being very fund of the idea to help a total stranger, Leon gave him an address down the street of a very good inn ready to find him a room for the night. However, the salutations were short and quick. Once alone in their house, Hershel and his father were staring at each other with guilty frowns, knowing perfectly well that tomorrow they would have to move out again, as soon as possible. Even if Leon didn’t know nor like that Ray guy, he was right at some point. They couldn’t stay here and certainly not so close to London if some agents have had spotted them. Without another word, they went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat, but the silence filling up the air was way heavier than a lead ceiling.

———

In town, “Ray” had found the address of the inn the “legal grave-digger” had told him about, and once he was certain his motorbike was already full of gas, he parked it somewhere in the street -just below the window of the room he had been given for the night- and finally sit in front of a desk on which there were a bottle of single malt whiskey, a pen and a blank sheet of paper. He looked at it for a few minutes while taking a pipe out of his jacket inner pocket, filling it with tobacco before lighting it up and taking a few puffs. After some other long minutes during which he wasn't certain to agree wih his own mind, he finally decided to take the pen to write something down but, as soon as he wrote the name of a person on the top of it, he stopped and let go of the pen with an upset little snappy move of the wrist.

–Feck...

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, reflecting on the past few years and on his choices. Things were hardly nice these days. First, he had thought he could win over a bunch of idiots a few amount of money by cheating at card games and drinking a bit in a town he wasn't supposed to be. But then that man came here in a Scottish pub to get wasted even though he was supposed to... go get some groceries ? for his little boy ? How was it even possible that such coincidence and such ill omen were disposed to be put like this on his way ? And now Targent was back. And they have noticed someone, and now no matter whoever it was, him or the sassenach, now they were both involved because they had fled together. This was suspect enough, and when these assholes would look into their archives, they would remember those faces. His, and the sassenach's.

He sighed and took another puff from his pipe before folding the paper and make it come closer to a lighten match before looking at the paper burn to ashes into the ashtray. When the name on it disappeared, he stood up, went to his window and opened it to lean on the threshold and look at the starsky while smoking. The night wouldn't be long...

....

Or maybe not.

What were these shadows running behind the houses and in the streets ?

The Scottish man frowned. A few years ago he would never have noticed this kind of details but now he was more than aware this was everything but a nice thing and even more... it was a very worrying thing. He looked at them crawling in the shadows and then opened wide eyes.

-Oh feck !

He grabbed his jacket, turned off his pipe in a hurry and rushed out of the Inn. These people were heading to the sassenach's house.

-> First chapter

-> Next chapter

[rubbarbandnsfw]

Desmond x Team RWBY

send me a ship and I’ll tell you who:

-

Okay now you're def @mused-like-roses

The whole ass team? What is this the repopulate Remnant program? Dangerous.

shops for groceries

Des has to fight weiss for the chance, cause she wants to do something nice for him but Des loves doing it so it's sometimes needs some correction

kills the spiders

Ruby, she's really fast but Des begs her to let him handle it, one time the spider was venomous and put Des on his ass for three days, now on sight Yang will attack them in revenge.

comes home drunk at 3am

Yang, Blake brings her back, yang loves to party and occasionally weiss will have to be picked up, Des if not asleep will pick his girls up so they don't have to stumble around. Blake when drunk will bite Des's tail- might be a cat thing.

makes breakfast

Blake wakes up earlier than them all, but she doesn't get to far cause Des wakes up after and well...things happen, sometimes the eggs burn. But Des will help fix things. They learned to turn off the heat if they both get...in heat.

remembers to feed the fish

Ruby- she likes animals, and Des can actually bring his mammoth sized dogs and she'll feed them if Des is busy making breakfast or wrangling the kids.

decorates the apartment

Blake's besides Weiss is the only one of these idiots with design sense, but because she lives on an island and Des has roots in one, she can make it both fashionable and fictional.

initiates duets

Weiss is a singer, but all five of them love to sing- Ruby's favorite thing to do is is wait for the emotional high to wear off and then interject with a line from a completely different song to make the others laugh. Weiss groans but she hides a smile.

falls asleep first

Des crashes when he gets home but after scolding and an tail injury Des becomes more mindful- he'll still fall asleep the fastest but Weiss is right behind him if she isn't working on the Dust company- luckily with Kal-li around she doesn't have to work too hard. The five sleep in a big cuddle pile, Yang loves taking pictures of it.

[rubbarband]

Des and Ann

send me a ship and I’ll tell you who:

-

Idk who this is so I'ma assume @umbranstilettos? or am I gas lighting myself?

shops for groceries

I think both of them do, depends on who's free, but Des loves looking and cooking and gathering ingredients to imagine what he'll be making.

kills the spiders

Des- However he doesn't kill them, he tries to remove them from the house, cause he'd hate it if he were stuck in a building and people killed him outta fear.

comes home drunk at 3am

Ann- She's famous and probably has to drink with sponsors and bosses and in japan social drinking is a thing so I assume she has to deal with it.

makes breakfast

Des loves cooking, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day!

remembers to feed the fish

*Dog Lily and her puppies, Des didn't take them with him to Japan so they're being fed by his grandparents, but if they were with the pair, Des would cause he'd get up early anyway.

decorates the apartment

Ann- She has a better head for decor and design than Desmond does, des is all about comfortable and casual and so he'd just put one of those Circular couches in the house and call it a day.

initiates duets

Ann- She probably enjoys Desmond's singing voice and of course she'd want to hear it, Des and her sing 'For good' very often.

falls asleep first

Des- He instantly crashes in his early hero years, once he helps beat king and that scar shows up on his tail, He learns to ask for help and works with his classmates and new coming heroes to protect Portland, Then he gets better sleep.

[teecupangel]

So, we've had Desmond in the P5 universe. What if he landed earlier during the events of P3/FES/Reload? I think he would have a deep connection/bond to the protagonist considering both died to save the world. How would things play out in your headcanon?

The Persona 5 with Desmond idea for those curious.

I haven’t played P3R yet but I did play the OG P3, FES and Portable when it came out so we’ll be focusing on the og one for this.

Or maybe we’ll focus on the idea that P3R is a stealth ‘sequel’ and set it up first with Desmond waking up and talking a young boy with dark blue hair, asking him to sign in.

Desmond thought that he was in the afterlife and, sure, it looked like an average looking homey hotel but fine, he’d seen weirder shit in his life thanks to the Isus and the Animus so he just signed in.

He wakes up in a small apartment and a Japanese guy looking over him, telling him that he found Desmond where garbage bags were placed for the garbage truck to get them (Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Monday and Wednesday for burnable, Friday for not. He found Desmond on a Tuesday)

The man introduces himself as Edogawa and lets Desmond stay as he feels weak for some reason. By the time Desmond is strong enough to check his surrounding…

He finds out he’s in Japan, a city called Tatsumi Port Island.

And…

It’s the year 2009.

His phone isn’t working at all. No matter how much he tried to turn it on. When he borrowed Edogawa’s computer, there is no mention of Abstergo in the internet at all.

And the email he remembered his team had and the emergency email that Erudito gave him bounced back.

It took a few days before Desmond finally agreed that he wasn’t kicked into the past.

This was another world.

A world where the Assassins and the Templars didn’t exist.

Things turned weirder because the first time Desmond stays late at night, the city transforms and he is attacked by strange creatures…

He manages to take care of them thanks to his hidden blade and the knife he still had on his bag but their battle only ‘invited’ more creatures that tried to attack Desmond.

So he runs. He turns the corner…

And finds himself in a bar mostly painted in blue velvet.

And on the counter stands a woman who calls herself “Elizabeth”.

She welcomes him as a ‘unexpected guest’ and tells her about the Dark Hour and the Shadows.

She opens her book and shows him the page of the Fool Arcana, explaining to him that he signed the contract and is now able to serve as an ‘authorized representative’. Elizabeth will serve as the host of his Velvet Room.

She requests him to defeat the Shadows and challenge the Avatar of the Fall.

… and…

To change the ending.

Unorganized Notes:

I kinda like the idea of this being FeMC instead of the og MC of P3 but you decide XD

We are going to use a lot of FeMC’s alternate scenes (mainly because I want Shinjiro to live)

He becomes the bartender in Club Escapade and meets the MC during his first visit there. He keeps an eye on the MC because the MC likes to ‘pay’ the fortune teller there to check his fortune or something.

Desmond actually appears to the SEES members during the High Priestess boss fight. He can’t believe that kids are fighting the Shadows. He recognized the MC and also Junpei who has also visited the club before.

Desmond is more or less ‘recruited’ by the Kirijo group and Desmond agreed because they’re kids, he can’t just let them do this on their own. Desmond transfers to the dorm as a… ‘caretaker’

… which he actually does. He cooks them food (thank you, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s bleed) and cleans. He also walks Koromaru whenever he does grocery. By that point, he quits his job in the club.

SEES members think of him more like an older brother. He gets roped with Fuuka’s cooking and jogs with Akihiko at times. He helps out Junpei with his English assignments. He makes Ken coffee and is even roped by Ken to teach him how to make coffee the way he does. He also more than once slips inside the school because Yukari asked him to help her with her archery for some reason. His favorite is Mitsuru though because she tells him he can borrow her motorcycle any time he wants.

Aegis is wary of him which is fair and she’s always confused to why she always feels the need to have him in her sight. It becomes a running joke how Aegis has imprinted on both Desmond and the MC.

We never talked about Desmond’s Persona, right?

That’s because he doesn’t have one.

The first Persona he summons is a Pixie and the book that Elizabeth has is already filled completely. He can summon the Personas there as long as he pays the price and he can fuse them.

But he cannot overwrite the Personas in the book.

Desmond is the Avatar of the Fool.

… specifically… he is the Avatar of the original messiah that became a door to halt the end from happening.

The young boy who asked him to sign?

That wasn’t Pharos.

It was the male main character’s child form. To be more exact, how he looked when he lost his parents. He connected with Desmond so Desmond could become his avatar and changed the ending of this ‘repeat’ (aka Reload) that Elizabeth managed to create. He appears in Desmond’s dream as a glowing figure (and the red herring is making us think he’s the Reader but he’s not). The book Elizabeth is using to support Desmond is his compendium.

So yeah…

This is actually a fix it fic idea for Persona 3.

[ethan-acfan]

Some silly shaundes fluff bc I'm sad

"Is the update done yet." I asked from my spot on the floor.

Rebecca had wanted to put in an update that was taking longer than normal to download. So, for the past hour, I have been left with nothing to do except wait. It was excruciating.

"Not yet, and if you keep asking, I'm going to make you wait even longer." Rebecca said, not looking up from her computer.

I sat up, desperate for something to do. Ever since I had started using the animus, sitting still for long periods of time became nearly impossible. I had become used to the feeling of always being on the move, jumping from buildings, running from guards, stabbing targets, etc.

Shaun was sitting in a nearby chair while reading some kind of document. I stood up and walked over to him. I looked over his shoulder at what he was reading, it was a rough copy of one of Altair's codex pages, probably copied down from the animus.

Normally I wouldn't have cared, but I had already memorized all of the codex pages, and I wasn't too eager to read it again.

"You couldn't read anything more interesting." I sighed.

"You couldn't stand sitting still for 1 hour." He said sarcastically.

"No, I can't and now I'm extremely bored." I said, hoping he would give me something to do.

He sighed, setting down the page before turning to me. "You could go train, check your skill retention."

I could do that, it would keep me occupied, but I didn't feel like doing it alone, and Lucy was at the store. I could always ask Shaun...

"Wanna watch me." I asked.

"No, why would I want to do that?" He stated.

"Well, I can't go alone in case I hurt myself, Lucy isn't here, and Rebecca is working on the animus."

He paused for a moment, "Fine." He sighed while standing up.

I had a silent celebration. "Okay let's go." I said while practically dragging him out of the room.

Once we were in the training room, *which was in my opinion the best room in the warehouse* I grabbed one of the practices knives and walked into the fighting ring. It was a small circle with around a dozen fake dummies set up around the circle.

Shaun stood outside the railing, leaning against it.

"Want me to do anything specific?" I called out.

Shaun thought for a moment before pulling out his phone. "Try taking all of them out in 30 seconds."

I grinned while readying myself.

Once he saw that I was reading, Shaun told me to start.

For most of the dummies, I used my hidden blade, I quickly tore through them, straw flying out at me.

"10 seconds!" Shaun called out.

I started to move faster, once I only had one dummy left, I sent my dagger, flying at it. The knife went straight through its neck, pinning it to the wall behind it.

Shaun held up his phone, 3 seconds to spare. I looked around the arena. Fabric, and straw everywhere.

"Looks like you've been learning a lot from Ezio." Shaun said while looking at the mess surrounding me.

I grinned while retracting my hidden blade. I walked over to Shaun, pulling myself up onto the railing. I sat on the rail next to Shaun. I was now out of breath.

I decided to take off my sweatshirt due to all of the hay now clinging to it.

I pulled it off, tossing it to the side. I noticed Shaun was staring at my arms in shock.

"Since when did you have this many muscles?!" He said, clearly shocked.

"Since always?" I said while laughing.

I guess I had always worn a hoodie around them, but I didn't expect Shaun to be that surprised.

"You bloody asshole." He said while shoving my arm.

I laughed a bit, just then Lucy walked in holding some plastic bags.

"Hey, bought some supplies, should last us through the week. Can you guys' help put them away?"

"Ya sur-" I tried to respond but I was cut off by Shaun.

"Lucy! Did you know that Desmond has muscles?" He said while holding up my arm.

Lucy laughed. "You didn't?"

"No!" Shaun called out while dropping my arm.

"Okay well you can drool over Desmond's muscles after the groceries are put away." She said while leaving.

Shaun face went red as he turned to follow Lucy, as he was leaving, he called over his shoulder. "Since you're strong you have to carry the bags."

"What? No fair!" I called out while following after him.

I love the idea of Rebecca and Shaun being so shocked at Desmond's muscles while Lucy and Desmond laugh at them.

[voidwritesstuff]

LUCAS COLE HEADCANNONS

Fandom: in sound mind

♡Sorry for the long post! Im on Mobile and I cant add a read more :( also sorry for any military inacuracies! (Spelling???)

CW:Alusions to PTSD,talk about food, nightmares, war, war related trauma. Food poisoning, Lucas literally shot himself in the foot. Suggestiveness. Talk about religion (catholic/christian)

->reblogs and comments over likes!

♡Has some old records with music from the sixties, plays them when he misses his buddies or wakes up from a nightmare.(helps him relax)

♡knows how to Cook but he has no actual kitchen, this lead to him experimenting a bit too much and getting food poisoning.

♡still has the whole set of drums, sometimes he plays when he needs to let out his feelings. and he plays very loudly. The perks of living in a cabin in the Woods!

♡coffee addict, a microwave and a coffee machine are all the commodities he has.

♡cant sleep in a normal bed, hes too used to sleep on a cot,even pillows that are too comfortable prevent him from sleep. Though I Belive that he could get used to it again with time (his back needs It)

♡Back issues aside hes pretty well physically, Strong inmune system, very strong (can Haul all his groceries in one go), toned muscles (which have earnt him some bedroom eyes), has a shit ton of resistance and endurance. His knees tend to crack a little but thats about It.

♡likes to limber up and excersice outside, shirtless (people who have gone for a walk on Elysium park at early hours of the morning got some eye candy for breakfast)

♡he wakes up at the ass crack of dawn, even the birds are telling him to go back to sleep. Always makes breakfast in time to watch the sunrise.

♡hes a sucker for an all american breakfast,he sometimes Cooks it when he feels like treating himself (which is not often, mind you).

♡has picked up some books that talk about ww2, some that he was recommended (some from desmond or other people hes talked to). The one that hes read the most was a book recommended to him by Wheeler.

♡Every night he prays, at first when he was younger he was your run of the Mill, "born in a catholic family" Beliver, but after the war he Turned to religion as a way to cope. Hes not going to Mass every sunday but every once in a while he pays a visit to the old church of milton haven

♡Father Ted Krill has invited him over for some tea, Lucas has done some repairs here and there too.

♡When he feels particularly lost or in dispair he carries around a small rosary, plays with it absentmindedly (it was alphonso's).

♡when I tell you this Man can SING. HE HAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL VOICE (if we consider his vynil cannon. He can sing). Sings in the shower and on the road if a song he likes plays on the radio.

♡humms while doing things

♡has a habit of poking his tongue out when hes concentrated.

♡hes very good at fixing cars and other engines. Hes lived in his van for a long time so he figured he might as well learn how to fix the van himself.

♡latino-native (this hc is originally from birdsandcake on Instagram). His dad is Native american and his mom is mexican (this addition is mine tho).

♡when I tell you he can dance! hE CAN DANCE HIS ASS OFF. He hasnt danced in a while but hes a bit self conscious about it. But he still dances every once in a while (latín blood baby!)

♡likes rock music the best. Has learnt to play some on the drums.

♡when his Friends and him were talking about band names, one that stood out to Lucas was "The Ragtags". For him, it described his friend Group very well.

♡on particular bad nights he only eats MREs and cheap beer, since that what his Friends used to do when they were stationed in their camp.

♡showers in the army were SHORT. So now he takes long ass showers that have his water Bill Sky high. He doesnt care, he has the money to afford it.

♡he washes his Plate in the sink of his bathroom (cannon) and Desmond has been begging him to get a dishwasher or a proper kitchen. It drives desmond wild for some reason.

♡When he feels like fucking with people he talks in the NATO phonetic alphabet. Desmond is sick of his shit

"Ive been craving some Papa Alpha November Charlie Alpha Kilo Echo Sierra"

"You can just say that you want pancakes"

"This is more fun"

"Fun for you"

♡desmond has learnt the NATO alphabet by heart. And once he replied in it and now its a competition to see who can spell the longest words (hey they gotta kill time somehow)

♡Lucas cares for desmond as if he was part of his military buddies. Fiercely protective. In return,Desmond offers his psicologist insight when Lucas asks for it or Des feels like he needs it.

♡Lucas recently adopted a dog called Radio (this hc was originally made by birdsandcake in some doodles they made). After the game, desmond is Open to this New pet, and cares for it when Lucas is out.

♡lucas has found Radio and Desmond asleep on the one person couch. He found it endearing.

♡Lucas uses hearing aids (this hc is also made by birdsandcake)

♡for his birthday, Desmond gave Lucas his old vinyl player. Lucas was overjoyed.

♡his relationshipp with desmond is purely platonic, and truth be told he missed having Friends. They have a stupid ammount of inside jokes.

Ex:

•the time Lucas tried to do one of those cakes in a cup and almost burnt down the house because he left the thing in the microwave for a long time. Known as "the microwave cup-cake incident"

•the time Desmond told him something in spanish which was far from what it actually meant, Lucas laughed his ass off for weeks. They call it "Lost in translation"

• Lucas told him about the time he literally shot himself in the foot (he was young and Alphonso let him out of his sight for five minutes). Now every time he goes to practice his aim on his makeshift shooting range desmond says "dont shoot yourself in the foot" to which Lucas replies "too late"

♡Lucas defenetly still remembers VIVIDLY the scold Alphonso gave him when he shot himself in the foot. Lucas had to do 200 pushups with Alphonso sitting on his back to make sure he didnt "do anything stupid". He slept for 12 hours afterwards.

[rubbarband]

'Of course, I preheated it all for you for when you arrived, please- enjoy.' Kal-li couldn't help but think that if Desmond was here, he'd wanna make it himself so they could get a taste of something fresh and delicious. But he wasn't here at the moment.

'Just so you know I have the locations of every person of note in Portland, sans villains of course, Desmond will be home soon!' Kal went back to unbagging all the groceries and putting everything away for when he comes back. 'You can eat in the living room or on the kitchen island. Enjoy.' Kal-li turned on the Living room TV.

'Oh an old episode.' It was of the news, Desmond topping over a giant villain.

Posed on the stomach Desmond raised a finger- "A baker always-! "

"Bounces back!"

The spectator on the street finish with a erupting cheer.

-

Almost as if on Que Desmond and Lily came through the front door, also flanked by a bunch of lily's puppies.

"We're back, we got tag-alongs too so watch your step." Desmond turned. "That's an old episode, 3 years...time sure flies." Desmond got lost in his own mind for a moment. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick if ya need me." Desmond nodded before moving to the back.

it's not that Violet forgot she didn't know. "Oh hello umm I was wondering if we could have that food you saved now?"

@rubbarband

[newstfionline]

Saturday, September 2, 2023

New York police will use drones to monitor backyard parties this weekend, spurring privacy concerns (AP) Those attending outdoor parties or barbecues in New York City this weekend may notice an uninvited guest looming over their festivities: a police surveillance drone. The New York City police department plans to pilot the unmanned aircrafts in response to complaints about large gatherings, including private events, over Labor Day weekend, officials announced Thursday. “If a caller states there’s a large crowd, a large party in a backyard, we’re going to be utilizing our assets to go up and go check on the party,” Kaz Daughtry, the assistant NYPD Commissioner, said at a press conference. The plan drew immediate backlash from privacy and civil liberties advocates, raising questions about whether such drone use violated existing laws for police surveillance. Like many cities, New York is increasingly relying on drones for policing purposes. Data maintained by the city shows the police department has used drones for public safety or emergency purposes 124 times this year, up from just four times in all of 2022.

Residents return to find towns devastated in path of Idalia (AP) Hurricanes and tropical storms are nothing new in the South, but the sheer magnitude of damage from Idalia shocked Desmond Roberson as he toured what as left of his Georgia neighborhood. Roberson took a drive through Valdosta on Thursday with a friend to check out damage after the storm, which first hit Florida as a hurricane and then weakened into a tropical storm as it made its way north, ripped through the town of 55,000. On one street, he said, a tree had fallen on nearly every house. Roads remained blocked by tree trunks and downed power lines, and traffic lights were still blacked out at major intersections. The storm first made landfall Wednesday in Florida, where it razed homes and downed power poles. It then swung northeast, slamming Georgia, flooding many of South Carolina’s beaches and sending seawater into the streets of downtown Charleston. In North Carolina it poured more than 9 inches (23 centimeters) of rain on Whiteville, which flooded downtown buildings. Residents along the path of destruction have now returned to pick through piles of rubble that used to be homes.

Delinquencies rise for credit cards and auto loans, and it could get worse (Washington Post) More Americans are falling behind on their car loan and credit card payments than at any time in more than a decade, a troubling signal of consumer stress as higher prices and rising borrowing costs are squeezing household budgets. The pain is most acute for lower-income earners, who have largely used whatever they managed to save during the pandemic with the help of government stimulus checks and breaks on obligations such as rent and student loans. Now, as the economy finds its post-pandemic footing, there are signs the hardship for millions of consumers will get worse before it improves. Another red flag: Shoppers are turning to buy now, pay later services to cover necessities such as groceries. Usage surged 40 percent in the first two months of 2023, according to data from Adobe Analytics.

Mexico City’s old airport told to cut flights by 17%, leading airlines to warn of mass cancellations (AP) The Mexican government ordered Mexico City’s old airport to cut flights by 17% Thursday, sparking warnings by airlines of possible mass flight cancellations. The new rules scheduled to take effect by Oct. 29 would require the terminal to reduce the number of flights per hour at the airport from 52 to 43. The airport has a design capacity of around 61 flights per hour, but that has already been cut to 52 previously. The airport has maintenance problems, including flooding or sewage smells in some areas. But the country’s airline industry chamber says that’s because the government took away the terminal’s revenues to pay for an airport project elsewhere that was later cancelled.

Ukrainian drone attacks Russian town near major nuclear plant (Reuters) A Ukrainian drone attacked a town in western Russia which is home to one of the country’s biggest nuclear power stations, though there was no damage reported to the plant, Russian officials said. Governor Roman Starovoit said a Ukrainian drone had damaged the facade of a building in the town of Kurchatov, just a few kilometres from the Kursk nuclear power station, early on Friday. The Soviet-era Kursk nuclear power station has the same graphite-moderated reactors as the Chernobyl nuclear plant. An explosion and fire at the Chernobyl plant in 1986, in then Soviet Ukraine, was the world’s worst nuclear accident, spreading radiation across Europe.

Anti-drone systems, 130,000 security officers to guard India’s G20 Summit (Reuters) About 130,000 security officers will be deployed as India hosts the world’s most powerful leaders at a G20 summit in New Delhi this month, a showcase for Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the country’s growing presence on the world stage. The two-day summit, starting September 9, will have the most high-profile guest list India has ever welcomed, from U.S. President Joe Biden to British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and Saudi Arabia’s Mohammed Bin Salman. However, Chinese President Xi Jinping is likely to skip the meeting, sources in New Delhi and Beijing have said. / (Al Jazeera) India is hiring security against monkeys as well. Life size cutouts of the aggressive langur monkey have been set up around New Delhi to fend off marauding rhesus monkeys, which regularly wreak havoc across the city. The city council has also hired 30 “monkey-men” to make langur sounds—to scare the hungry monkeys away from floral displays laid out for the G20 summit next week.

Amid record heat, even indoor factory workers enter dangerous terrain (Washington Post) When temperatures in Thailand shot past 112 degrees earlier this year, the government issued extreme heat warnings for large swaths of the country. It wasn’t safe, officials said, to be outdoors. But Rungnapa Rattanasri, 51, didn’t work outdoors. She worked inside, on the second floor of a dilapidated garment factory with no fans or air-conditioning. For $10 a day, she cut and trimmed bolts of rayon in rooms where the ambient temperature regularly exceeded 100 degrees. Extreme heat caused by human-induced climate change has wreaked havoc on the bodies of outdoor workers, from delivery drivers in India to construction workers in Qatar. Now, heat scientists and labor researchers say even those who labor indoors are not safe. Across Southeast Asia’s manufacturing hubs, rising temperatures, mixed with high humidity, are leaving workers like Rungnapa baking in poorly ventilated sweatshops. The impact of extreme heat is understudied in Thailand, as it is in much of the tropical world. Communities here have spent generations acclimatizing themselves to warm, humid weather, developing both biological and social adaptations. But the pace of climate change is driving temperatures beyond what even the most heat-adapted communities can handle.

Pope arrives on first visit to Mongolia (AP) Pope Francis arrived in Mongolia on Friday morning to encourage one of the world’s smallest and newest Catholic communities. It’s the first time a pope has visited the landlocked Asian country and comes at a time when the Vatican’s relations with Mongolia’s two powerful neighbors, Russia and China, are once again strained. Francis arrived in the Mongolian capital Ulaanbaatar after an overnight flight passing through Chinese airspace, affording the pontiff a rare opportunity to send a note of greetings to President Xi Jinping. Vatican protocol calls for the pope to send such greetings whenever he flies over a foreign country. While Christianity has been present in the region for hundreds of years, the Catholic Church has only had a sanctioned presence in Mongolia since 1992, after the country shrugged off its Soviet-allied communist government and enshrined religious freedom in its constitution. The Holy See and Mongolia have had diplomatic relations ever since, and a handful of missionary religious orders including Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity have nurtured the tiny community through its first three decades of life.

China’s largest property developer at risk of default (Washington Post) China’s largest property developer, Country Garden, warned that it is on the brink of default as it reported a staggering loss of almost $7 billion for the first half of the year, deepening a real estate crisis that threatens to unravel the country’s already fragile economy. China’s property market accounts for about a quarter of its gross domestic product and two-thirds of household wealth, but post-pandemic uncertainty and a government crackdown on the sector have weakened sales and affected broader confidence in the economy.

Saudi man sentenced to death for tweets in harshest verdict yet for online critics (NPR) A retired teacher in Saudi Arabia was recently sentenced to death for his tweets criticizing the country’s leadership to his handful of followers, according to rights advocates and his family. The sentencing of Mohammad Alghamdi, who is in his mid-50s, is the latest in an escalating crackdown on social media users in Saudi Arabia. While others are serving prison terms ranging from 20 to 45 years for their tweets and online criticism of the government, Alghamdi appears to be the first person to be sentenced to death based solely on his posts on X, formerly called Twitter, and YouTube activity. Alghamdi, a father of seven living in Mecca, had gained just 10 followers between the two anonymous accounts he ran on X. According to Human Rights Watch, he used the social media site to rail against alleged government corruption, but was mostly resharing posts by more popular government critics. Alghamdi’s brother, Saeed Alghamdi, believes the case against his younger brother is actually meant to target him. Saeed Alghamdi is a well-known Islamic scholar connected to many of the kingdom’s most prominent jailed critics. He left Saudi Arabia in 2013 and founded the Saudi rights group, SANAD. He now lives in exile in the United Kingdom.

Amid a wave of West African coups, France faces a reckoning (Washington Post) In West Africa, the dominoes keep falling. Barely more than a month has passed since the presidential guard in Niger toppled the country’s democratically elected government, triggering a tense standoff between a usurping junta and the international community. Then, this week, the top brass in Gabon unseated the country’s long-ruling President Ali Bongo in the wake of a controversial election. The ouster of the Gabonese president, who is currently believed to be under house arrest, marked the seventh coup in the region in the space of three years—including putsches in Mali, Burkina Faso and Guinea. There are many contextual differences between the various putsches, but they share an apparent and inescapable common denominator: the prevalence of anti-French sentiment driving a rejection of the political status quo. In much of West Africa—and in all the countries in the region that experienced these recent anti-democratic takeovers—France is the old colonial power. The juntas that have swept aside the previous regimes have weaponized resentment of Paris’s deep and complicated imperial legacy. “France’s tight post-independence links to local elites, and its past willingness to act as a regional gendarme to prop up leaders, bound up its fortunes in theirs,” noted the Economist. For that reason, it added, “the failures of unpopular rulers today, to reduce poverty or curb violence, are readily blamed on their proximity to France.”

Food ads in the crosshairs (AP) Food ads have long made their subjects look bigger, juicier and crispier than they are in real life. But some consumers say those mouthwatering ads can cross the line into deception, and that’s leading to a growing number of lawsuits. Burger King is the latest company in the crosshairs. In August, a federal judge in Florida refused to dismiss a class action lawsuit that claims Burger King’s ads overstate the amount of meat in its Whopper burger and other sandwiches. But Burger King is far from the only one. Perkins Coie, a law firm that tracks class action suits, said 214 were filed against food and beverage companies in 2022 and 101 were filed in the first six months of this year.