#postal label

[chimericmacandcheese]

i love misusing postal labels

[rabidbatboy]

POSTAL DUDE 4 POSTAL DUDE: an amasui term for postal dude loving postal dude (from postal)

TAGGING: @radiomogai @amasuicola

🧼 ——— FLAG COINED BY ME

[kxllboii]

Me? Draw Killjoy Dude like the PIII box art?? Nahh, must be imagining things

I cant draw flowy trenchcoats for the life of me man

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

this is me venting into the void about my woes with the united states postal service

I HATE complaining about literally any service people are providing for me so so much, but we got a new postal carrier on my road like a month ago and I literally don't think I've had a single piece of mail correctly delivered since. For reference, this should not be hard because I live in a house clearly marked with the address and my mailbox has the address and my last name right there. My mailbox is right next to the neighbor's who gets their mail correctly delivered every day, you literally cannot miss it. You have to extend your arm only slightly further to reach mine.

But I've had one thing returned due to the address being "incorrect" even though I know it was correct, a month ago, and it's still not here so I'm worried it got returned again. And I was supposed to have something delivered today and it hasn't shown up, so I'm worried it might've got sent back, too. I realized today I don't think I've gotten a single thing in the mail other than generic spam for the past month so I think EVERYTHING is getting sent back for some reason. I went to the post office earlier to complain but I haven't heard anything back yet and they close for the day in an hour so I'm losing hope on being able to catch my package before it gets sent back again.

Just like. C'mon. Why is this so difficult. Put my mail in the mailbox. I would hate for anyone to get in trouble over this but dude. What's going wrong here. What's not clicking

[maka-moved]

thinking about about postal 1 and what may have driven dude to go to such lengths.

at first, i believe he would've been acting out in self defense (or, at the very least, what he considers self defense). after all, in his mind, he was simply defending himself from a world full of people out to get him. however, i also think that at one point or another, dude just totally loses the plot. at some point, it's no longer about self defense or trying to get help, but rather cleansing the earth.

the change of "diary" to "war journal" reflects this shift in dude's mindset, revealing that he believes whatever is going on to be a war that he must win by any means necessary, regardless of the causalities. the lives of others, and even his own life to an extent, take second priority to exterminating the "infection" as he calls it. he likely realizes what he is doing is wrong as the events of the game continue, but he marches onward because seeing his mission through to the end is the only thing that matters to him anymore.

postal 1, to me, is about a man's journey into the depths of despair. however, i don't think his downward spiral began at the start of the game.

his eviction is what motivated him to finally take matters into his own hands, but the actual start of his descent into desperation began far before that point. his outlook on the world around him and his eviction tell the story of someone who's lost control, who's retreating further and further into isolation. it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that he had stopped showing up to his job, stopped talking to people, stopped going outside all together in the weeks or even months before the events of the first game.

postal dude's actions are not spontaneous. they are what happens when someone is left with no other perceived option than violence, the gruesome yet predictable outcome of cornering a starved and beaten hound. he had to have known what was coming. maybe he didn't quite know just how far he'd have to take things, but he knew that he'd have to kill, and he planned accordingly.

the tragedy of postal 1 stems from the simple fact that, from the very first second of the game, it was already too late.

[daddymymouthisfullofstars]

•

[greatandquestionablecontent]

🗣️🗣️🗣️TAG YOUR SHIPS for SAFETY. Postal workers DESERVE the TRUTH

"don't ship—" i will just be doing whatever the fuck i want actually

[dykecrawler]

im gonna have 2 lizards again in like. 24 hours

[sobekc]

organizing the shit out of my perfume spreadsheets to get them ready for my December break destash

[duckydemons]

RICK HUNTER MY LOVEE!!!

ALL Postal 1997 voice lines

[chimericmacandcheese]

bnuuy

[agirlandherkinks]

Hypnovisor: Beta Test (TGTF, Hypno)

James had always been a tech super-fan. The newest phone, newest headphones, shiniest laptop, he had to stay abreast of and on top of the current trends. So when he read about some fancy new VR company that wanted beta testers for a headset, provided for free (minus shipping), his vision blurred and he signed up before he even considered finishing reading the ad.

Three weeks of anticipation and waiting passed until his doorbell finally rung, accompanied by the corresponding buzz of an email notification on his phone. Scrambling from his couch he flung the apartment door open, and to his mild surprise saw that the postman was nowhere in site. There was just a nondescript cardboard box labelled "Fragile", which fortunately bore none of the expected dents and scratches one would associate with the postal service and delicate freight. Practically bouncing with undignified delight, James scooped his parcel up and dashed back inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

The headset looked even better than he had imagined. Sleek plastic curves surrounded a central visor that was just translucent enough to see through, meaning you could walk around safely if you turned a program's opacity down. It fit beautifully when he tried it on, more comfortable than anything he'd ever worn. Wearing it felt wonderful and... right, somehow. His only complaint was that the black headset was decorated in hot pink highlights, although it still looked futuristic enough to sooth his fragile masculinity. His roommate and best friend Erik certainly agreed, interspersing James' insightful comments with appropriate "Ooh's" and "Aah's". Waiting for the battery to charge seemed to take a thousand years, although chatting with each other about what it could do replaced their boredom with swiftly growing excitement.

Two hours later, a soft buzz from the headset in the corner signified its charge was complete. Erik cheered, his sandy-blonde hair bouncing behind him, and even James couldn't suppress a soft whoop of excitement. Erik unplugged it and handed it to James with a flourish and a bow, who accepted it with a suitable stuffy speech. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he was so giddy with anticipation he felt he could match Erik's goofiness for once. The advertisement had promised unmatched realism, a luxurious fit, and cutting-edge, groundbreaking technology. Normally James would have discounted claims like that as corporate claptrap, but the headset fit so well he actually believed the rest of it.

Booting up the headset brought a perky, relaxing jingle in his ears and wall of settings text in his vision. He would have read it, but between his own excitement and Erik's infectious enthusiasm he left the settings on default and skipped to the main menu. The feedback for the buttons was amazing, it felt just like he was pressing down on them whenever he touched one! Another little jingle sounded as he confirmed his choices, and a few games and applications bubbled up into his view, imposed over a hot pink background.

"So Erik, what do you think I should try," James asked. "We've got a music player, interior design app, some sorta idle monster game, and a few RPG's." "Surely try out the RPG's man! You've gotta see that high-definition you were yammering about when we called." Erik's voice came back surprisingly muffled, as if he was speaking down a long tunnel. "Bro, I can barely hear you, the noise-cancelling on this headset's insane! It's like I'm in a world of my own!" James took a deep breath, recovering a little of his composure. "Alright, an RPG it is. Fantasy, sci-fi, or modern day?" "Go fantasy! You know we've both got a thing for elf chiiiicks. Hell, with the kind of feedback you were telling me about, you might even get to grab her" Erik's distant voice sounded playful, with a ting of desire and jealousy. And it did make James hard, at the thought of getting to look and squeeze and fondle some busty elf bitch, made entirely to his wishes~

To James' horror a quiet moan escaped his lips, accompanied by faint hysterical laughter from his friend. Brushing it off angrily, he slammed the icon for 'Silverflame: A Magical Journey' (the button felt like thick moss to his touch). Instantly a soft flute begun to play in his ears, accompanied by the gentle lull of a harp and a quiet sparkling. James felt himself relax, all the tension draining out of his body. Erik must have noticed too, because James heard his laughter die down to be replaced with a slightly concerned silence. "Don't worry man," James said, "music's just really pretty..." He trailed off with a slight giggle, but heard Erik give an affirmative just before a silky, sultry voice started to speak.

"Welcome traveler, to the beautiful world of Silverflame. An untamed paradise where strange beasts roam the land, noble adventurers go forth in search of treasure, and the most wonderful magic [James shuddered] is woven. You are the latest brave, beautiful heroine [Heroine? Shouldn't I get to choose my character's gender first?] to step foot into this land. But first, tell us a bit about who you really are."

Pink sparkles rained across the screen, superimposing his view of a vibrant meadow with a series of stats. Physique, IQ, Wisdom, and Charisma, fairly standard stuff. And next to it, a human man with a blank, slightly happy expression on his face [...did he look familiar?]. James gasped, he looked just like a real person! Erik was suitably impressed by this information, and urged him to pick some stats so he can get to the body modification. "You can always change them later man, might as well pick a couple of stats now and get a move on. Sounds like you're not gonna get to pick your gender for a while, which kinda sucks. Buuut if we're being horny about this, you might as well go for a slut scaffold so you make less changes later." James chuckled at this, remembering the build they discussed one night while both sloshed beyond belief. For this game it would be high Physique and Charisma, low IQ and Wisdom. James touched the slider for Physique, and gasped as he felt himself feel... better than he had in a long time.

Not trusting his senses any more, and worrying about Erik being exposed to whatever was happening from the other side of the headset, James brushed off his concerned questions (which he could barely hear now, past the soothing, soothing, music) and suggested he went to the toilet, since he'd been holding it in since he got here. Erik grumbled at missing out, but mercifully left. James was actively sweating from what just went through his body, but couldn't muster the energy or concentration to feel the level of panic he knew he should be. The music was just so, so calming, that fear was harder to feel than usual. The prompt told him he still had to change two more stats, so he decided to turn down Wisdom. He gasped again and his vision went blurry, and when it cleared he felt a bit, fuzzier? In the head. But it wasn't too bad, in fact it was perfectly manageable. He felt even calmer now, so maybe changing another stats would make him feel better. Why not IQ? He tapped the slider.

He groaned as an immense pressure wrapped around his brain. Thoughts, aspirations, memories felt like they were melting from his head faster than they appeared. The pressure seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually it trailed off and he was left panting in his chair. It had felt, really good? Like, tots good, even. James giggled to himself. Something was different about him, but he couldn't think what. Oh well, it'll probably come to him later. He squealed in delight as he realized he could get a step closer to the body modification page, although he looked longingly at the IQ slider. He could come back to it later, for now it was time to make his super-hot elf slut a body!

James clapped to himself with delight as a cute little melody played, a shower of sparkles spiraled [spiraled...] across the screen, and the man on the side moved to the center of the screen. "Firstly", the sultry voice said, "choose what race you want to be." That was an easy choice. He clicked on the 'Elf' button, and shivered as he felt tingles run through his body, intensifying in his ears. Reaching up to touch them, he inhaled as he felt long, pointed tips. In fact, his whole body seemed a bit slimmer. This doesn't quite feel right... he thought. Oh I know! It must be making me an elf too! Maybe we'll be in a party together! Between the strange fuzziness and the pulsating heat in his groin, James quickly flicked to the next page and made his choices. Long, silver hair, gorgeous big purple eyes, and some giant perky lips. "Combination unlocked!" the narrator exclaimed, "+1 Charisma, -1 Wisdom!" James giggled again as the mental fog settled a little tighter around his brain and naughty thoughts about cute girls and boys filled his brain. Boys? Well I guess I've never minded swinging both ways... This felt natural to him, because of course he'd always been bisexual. Next screen!

"Choose your voice young heroine," the woman commanded. James felt a little strange, like her voice was echoing around his head. And why were the sparkles still there, spinning and spinning around the screen. He felt confused, but knew he had to obey that voice. He picked the sexiest combination for his own voice; high pitched, breathy, perky. "Combination unlocked! +1 Charisma, -1 Int." He moaned as that wonderful pressure wrapped his brain and his weekend plans changed to eyeing hunks at the beach. Girls were cool and all, but men had always been more interesting to him [and their pulsing, hard...].

"Now heroine, can you tell me: Are you a girl, or a boy?" The question sent shock waves through his brain. He was a he... right? Why did it feel like there was some longing, some need to acknowledge the woman in him... her? The fog, the music, the spirals, all the feelings he had been having, James could hardly think. Maybe he should think less. Being a girl sounded fun, it's just a character after all. And he needed to be sexy. "Wonderful choice young lady! Now, are you a dominatrix, a super-switch, or a bimbo slut?" Bimbo slut~ James giggled as the words echoed in her brain. She was a bit of a slut, now that she thought about it. It felt odd to pick it, but why not for funsies? "Bimbo slut selected! Wonderful choice, just wonderful. Hold still while your stats are adjusted, and then we'll begin on giving you the perfect, sexy body you've always wanted."

The spirals filled her view and began increasing in speed. James was taken aback at first, but quickly felt oddly calm and receptive to that sultry voice.

"Physique +1, Physique +1, Physique +1." James felt wonderful, like every ache and blemish in his body had faded away.

"Wisdom -1, Wisdom -1." Thinking was fuzzy, but Jamella felt so content she didn't care.

"Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1. Charisma +1." Jamella gasped as visions of sexy men, pecs and abs and juicy, throbbing cocks filled her mind. A desperate heat filled her, and she began touching her groin against her will to try and ease it.

"IQ -1." She moaned, feeling light.

"IQ-1." Empty. She was so, wonderfully empty.

"IQ -1." This was like, so much funsies! She didn't know what was going on, but everything felt so nice~

"IQ -1. Congratulations Ella, you now have the 'Bimbo Slut' build."

Ella giggled absently. Thinking was like, so hard, and she felt like, so hard~. The fun spirals had disappeared... But the nice lady was talking to her again! With great effort, she listened in. "Now that your mental changes are complete, it's time for the physical changes!" Ella rubbed her thighs together and cheered in excitement. She couldn't wait to have more fun! "Unless you choose so now, the process will be au-to-ma-tic [...why was she using such big words?]. You can choose to take over at any time, or wait until the end and adjust as you please [...please. That word felt funny in her brain]".

"No user input detected. Body adjustment commencing."

A nice shiver went through Ella's body as she felt her headset warm against her face. Looking at the boring young man she'd begun to customize (her reflection, of course), she couldn't wait to begin! She sighed happily as waves of pretty silver hair drifted into her view and cascaded down her back. It felt especially nice against her smooth, soft skin, and she couldn't help but gently shake her head to watch it sway. A cool feeling brought her attention to her face, and the alluring amethyst eyes now set in it. Her face itself became much more elegant [but cutesy, too!], and she puckered her lips as a lovely pressure made them swell and bulge out, giving her a sexy and kissable pout [the boys'll love this look! boys~]. She felt herself shrink a few centimeters, gulping as her Adam's apple disappeared into her body. In fact, her whole body had become even more slender, with narrow shoulders, adorably small hands [pretty purple nails!], and a tiny little waist. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. Her voice was so high and cutesy! She couldn't stop herself from giving out tiny, high-pitched giggles, just to hear how cute she was!

"Basic body structure altered. Adjusting outfit in preparation for primary and secondary sexual characteristics."

Ella ooh'ed appreciatively as a stream of sparkles enveloped her body. And when they disappeared, she squealed in delight! Her drab t-shirt and denim shorts were gone! In their place was a beautiful silver mini-dress that shimmered like starlight when she moved. She frowned in vexation, though. The plunging chest and shoulder-less design was very pretty, but her chest was flat! [shouldn't I have tiddies? The boys won't like me like this...] And the way it clung to her waist and hips would have been sexy, but as it was there was barely any difference between them! Her ass wasn't nearly big enough to justify how the dress cut off barely past it, and with how tight the fabric was Ella could see how achingly hard she was [wait, why do I have a cock? I'm supposed to get cock! In my mouth, in my ass, in my tight little pussy~]. It wasn't right!

"Thank you for your patience sweetie. Optimal figure calculated. Prepare for adjustment of sexual characteristics."

Ella let out a moan as a wave of heat and pleasure washed over her. With how horny she was she could barely keep her eyes open, but she knew she wanted to watch herself become the sexy little [cum] slut she was meant to be [I want it... I want to be~]. The heat settled in her hips, her ass, and her chest, and she moaned again as the changes begun.

Her nipples grew first, more than doubling in size and stiffening through the soft fabric of her dress. Tentatively touching them induced a gasp of pleasure [so nice~] and sent her rocking backwards. The motion made her giggle, because in that time she'd grown a cute pair of B-cup breasts that jiggled when she rocked. Jiggle makes me giggle. I like giggling. I like jiggling. Ella nodded thoughtfully to herself, feeling very wise. Her boobies grew to C-cups. She jiggled some more. She giggled some more.

A tightness around her hips distracted Ella from her tiddies. They were growing! She groaned as fabric and flesh tightened around them, too euphoric to feel pain. Sliding her hands from her waist to her hips made her squeal happily. She had such a sexy hourglass figure, she knew any girl worth her money would be jealous [and the boys would wanna hold me and squeeze me and fuck me raw]. Thighs thickening dramatically in response to her growth, she slapped her ass in impatience. Why won't it get bigger already!

But get bigger it did, swelling out in response to her touch. She fell forward as sheer pleasure blanketed her mind and weakened her knees. Squishing her boobies against the ground made her feel even nicer, until she was panting and moaning for somebody to help, to hit her again and make her bigger~

A slap landed on her booty, and she groaned in delight as it and her thighs swelled again. More. More! I NEED MORE! She moaned in ecstasy as blow after blow landed, making her swell and grow and grow and swell and feel so gooooood! Her tits inflated to D, then E-cups [good for the boys. I can jiggle so well for them~]. Her hips widened and thighs thickened, until she looked ridiculously large compared to her waist [ridicu... ridic... really, really sexy...] And her ass kept growing, and growing, and growing and growing and growing and growing! Tighter! Around my cock! Cock... I... oh~ Too... too... much! Too much! I'm~ I'm!

OooOOoOoOOooOoOoooOOOOOHHH~

Ella screamed in delight as she came, just cumming and cumming and cumming her tiny little brain out.

"Wisdom -1. IQ -1. Charisma +1. Charisma +1."

She was desperate, humping against the ground as the flow of cum abated from her cock. Everything she had been was flowing out of her messy stupid brain, and everything that she should be was coming in. Boys... Cock... Need fuck... Breed~ I'm such a dumb little cum slut~ She giggled to herself.

"Final adjustment required."

Ella stood up shakily, the bottom of her dress a cum-soaked mess. She squealed with delight as the mental fog settled even tighter and she felt an intense heat in her groin. She could see the tops of nipples trying to break free from her dress, and could feel the air drift over her ass, which had mostly escaped the fabric in her growth. So sexy. Hehe~ Boy can take me~ Don't even need dress off~ Thinking hard... Her ass and hips had pulled up so much fabric that her cock was visible now, deflating and still leaking from her orgasm, but she gasped in pleasure as it began rising up again. And, as she felt something long and hard brush her booty [cock? Boys? Fuck?].

A pressure like hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, and she whimpered in desire as she felt an unseen cock touch her cheek. At the same time, something began intensely stimulating her own. She reflexively opened her mouth in a moan, but was cut off as she felt the cock shove inside [Feels~ Feels!].

All thought stopped.

Her mind was blank, full of pleasure and desire and happiness. Her cock felt good like it never had before, and the dick in her mouth tasted wonderful~ This was what Ella was made for, what she was meant to be. Feeling good, feeling sexy, feeling a pleasant emptiness that could only be filled with cock. Her haze reached a crescendo. Dimly she was aware of her own cries of ecstasy, muffled by the cock fucking her mouth and mind, as she came harder than she even had before. And as she came, her dick shrunk with each spurt until it went inside her [inside me!]. The cock withdrew from her mouth, filling her with a desperate longing. Emma moaned for her unseen hero, then gasped as she felt him once more. And blinked in surprise as the pretty meadow and her sexy reflection disappeared.

She was kneeling on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Shaking off a little of her confusion [don't need know much anyways...], she gasped as the tell-tale smell of pre-cum filled her nose. There was a man standing in front of her!

Sandy-blonde hair. Body like a surfer hunk! Naked. With a massive, sexy cock, dripping with her saliva and it's own juices. Ella moaned in desire, falling on all fours. Visibly trembling with lust, he tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly moved behind her.

Touching her with his [cock!].

Ever so gently, on the edge of her [...pussy!!!!]

He rammed inside her, and she screamed as an absolute feeling of rightness, of sexiness and pleasure and single-minded happiness rushed through her [MORE! HARDER! COCKKKK~]. Riding his dick she felt herself go into a trance, with nothing, absolutely nothing, disturbing her feelings. Ever. This was right. Ella moaned and surrendered to herself, drifting away on her lover's cock and mindless pleasure.

[thatsmiggles]

T-WORDED AGAIN.

please help me find my friends.

made the henrique posts & tccblr meetup Meme also known for other meme posts ( tokidoki Posts )

Tobias

once thesmiggle, drsmiggles, thesmiggles and theesmiggles

aka that one annoying guy.

Seventeen Year Old guy. No real sexuality Labels so don't push one or Me or be a homophobic edgelord. Punk 4 a reason and cause. On the spectrum & aware of my aspd and possible cotards syndrome. I do have trauma, but I have nothing I personally believe is wrong with me, I do not owe you kindness or a response.

likes : true crime, psychology, criminology, slenderverse ( favourite emh ), dark things in general, politics, cenobites, history in general, horror movies & factory 2000, also just old movies in general. Doom, Postal, Hatred, Call of duty, Overwatch, Cry of fear, I fucking love urban legends and video games.

Every side of tcc is free to Follow me. I like death, call me a condoner, whatever you want, I do not Care if u R a fangirl and believe ur their Wife or if u condone, if U dont idc. so Don't expect me to Care. Ur safe here

[moontyger]

It was a tip that brought a dog to the main post office in downtown Jackson, Mississippi. An employee there had reported seeing someone in the lobby putting pills into hot pink envelopes.

Hours later, Ed Steed, a police officer from the small city of Richland, just south of Jackson, walked into a back room at the post office where one of the envelopes had been set aside. Steed, a K-9 handler, arrived with Rip, his narcotics sniffer dog. Rip strode around and, when he got to the pink envelope, sat down. According to records obtained through a Freedom of Information Act request, Steed said this meant the dog had smelled narcotics. That claim became evidence to get a warrant to open the envelope.

This, though, was no ordinary drug bust. As it turned out, there were pills inside the package, but they were not the kind that Rip or other police K-9s are trained to detect. The envelope contained five pills labeled “AntiPreg Kit.” They were made in India, and their medical purpose is to induce abortion. Dwayne Martin, at the time the head of the U.S. Postal Inspection Service in Jackson, told me this was exactly what the initial tipster had suspected.

...

What will happen to abortion-pills-by-mail and the people who use them if Donald Trump is elected in November? As the accounts of the regional USPIS head and FOIA documents show, a piecemeal crackdown is already underway during a Democratic administration. Under a Trump regime, things might go much further.

Whoever is in power, the incident in Jackson provides a potential window into the future — one in which freelancing local Postal Service employees and officials can call on local cops to halt women from accessing reproductive care and potentially charge and arrest those providing or using abortion medication.

My FOIA request asked for records from past years of investigations of people who’d used the mail to send pills. The documents I got back show how a willing administration might go after distributors. The feds could even lend support to police in states that have criminalized abortion care as they pursue cases under local laws. Pregnant people who order the medications could get caught in the dragnet.

The documents I received after my FOIA request were highly redacted but still reveal many details about a federal investigation that began less than two years ago in Mississippi. Dozens of envelopes with abortion pills were seized. The bust followed on the heels of the Supreme Court overturning Roe v. Wade, and came after a group of anti-abortion doctors filed a federal lawsuit in Texas, arguing that abortion pills should be banned from the mail.

The Jackson investigation apparently also employed what’s called a mail cover: a little-known Postal Service method for collecting data about people suspected of committing crimes. Using an enormous database of images of the outside of envelopes and packages, postal inspectors can digitally compare names, addresses, and other information on one item to others. And the findings can be freely shared with almost any law enforcement agency that requests them. The return address for the hot pink envelope in Jackson included an unused post office box number, the sort of information postal inspectors can use to correlate parcels to each other.

Reproductive justice activist Laurie Bertram Roberts worries about an anti-abortion regime taking power. They direct the Jackson-based Mississippi Reproductive Freedom Fund, which assists fellow Mississippians with any reproductive decision they make, from having a baby, to leaving the state to go to an abortion clinic, to using pills at home.

In a state where abortion is strictly banned post-Roe, Bertram Roberts is also a doula. Along with other doulas, they have organized help for people at the end of their pregnancies, including those which do not come to term. Whether that end is due miscarriage or to abortion is immaterial. “We don’t ask,” they said.

The pink-envelope investigation came out of a sort of collaboration between the feds’ regional offices and a local official: U.S postal workers and a city K-9 cop. Though no one in Mississippi has yet been arrested for helping carry out an abortion, Bertram Roberts fears that synergy. They leaned forward and tensed their lips as I opened my computer and pulled up images I’d obtained from the FOIA request: photos the USPIS had taken, in a post office parking lot, of vehicles suspected of belonging to the person who mailed the pills. 

Bertram Roberts peered anxiously at the screen. “I don’t recognize them!” they said. Their face relaxed, but they shook their head. “The thing I worry about most is people getting criminalized.

...

Using local dogs creates risk for abortion-seekers. With the post office inviting local law enforcement to assist with federal investigations, local police could theoretically do their own investigations, by copying names and addresses from the mail. And they could pass that information to anti-abortion district attorneys. 

Police dogs, however, are trained to smell only the illegal drugs heroin, marijuana, ecstasy, fentanyl, and cocaine, not the ingredients in abortion pills, which currently remain legal. And the K-9s’ forensic reliability is suspect.

Why would a police dog alert on abortion pills in the first place, when they’re not narcotics?

Martel, the USPIS national spokesperson, speculated that the pills found in Jackson were contaminated in the manufacturing process by trace amounts of a drug such as marijuana, or perhaps someone was handling narcotics when they did the packing and left molecules behind that only canines’ super-sensitive noses can detect.

Theories along these lines are widespread among police, and they’re inherently impossible to disprove. Elisa Wells, a co-founder and co-director of Plan C, is skeptical. She said her group has conducted laboratory analyses of various brands of foreign-made abortion pills. They’ve all been pure, she said, and no one has ever complained about their containing narcotics.

There is another reason why a K-9 can zero in on a package that’s devoid of illicit drugs. Animal researchers call it “cueing.” Canines are exquisitely sensitive to the minutiae of a human’s posture, eye movements, and other subtle behaviors. Handlers wishing to develop probable cause to do intrusive searches for narcotics can coax their dogs into drug-alerting behavior. To get a reward, the dog will alert, even if nothing illegal is present. (Steed, the K-9 handler, declined to be interviewed for this story.)

Cueing can be deliberate, but it’s more often unconscious. In 2011, Lisa Lit, a researcher at the University of California, Davis, published a now-famous study in which she told the handlers of several police dogs that their K-9s would be searching for “target scents” hidden randomly in several containers. She put red tape on some containers and said it marked the targets. In reality, none of the containers had scents. Even so, most of the dogs alerted on containers, especially those with red tape.

[haleswallows]

A wee gift for @little-dreams-of-life based on a prompt from the HxH server. Thank you for the inspiration <3

Timothy Drake is home alone. The Drake Manor is big and quiet around him. He fills it with noise.

This isn’t new or exciting. Tim is home alone a lot. What is new is the crate a FedEx employee insisted on carrying inside when Tim answered the door. The guy asks for an adult to sign for the package, but Tim just stares at him. Tim signs for the thing.

There’s a worried glance tossed in his direction as the courier leaves. But Tim shrugs it off like all the others and closes the door, then does up the locks and security system like he was shown.

Tim is home alone and he goes back to his homework without a second thought to the crate. He fills the quiet house with his own noise. When he needs a break, he skateboards down the hallways. The skate park is better, and Tim thinks about checking the weather report to see if it’ll be nice enough to go after school tomorrow.

Tonight is supposed to be clear. Probably a good night for birdwatching.

He pauses at the top of the stairs, one foot on the floor and the other on the deck, idly kicking it forwards and back. There’s a school field trip soon. Tim won’t be going – there’s no one home to sign his permission slip. If anything, he realizes, it’d be a great day to spend at the park. Even though he really wants to go on the field trip too. There’s nothing to be done about it. He resolves to make the day as good as it can be despite the loneliness that sits like gargoyle on his chest.

The crate sits innocently in the Entrance Hall. Tim peers down at it from the top of the stairs. He purposefully lets his DCs slap loudly on the hardwood of the steps as he gallops down.

There’s no note on the outside. Tim crouches down to look it over, but most of the markings are just shipping labels like “FRAGILE” and “THIS WAY UP – DO NOT TURN”. He doesn’t recognize the consignor address. Last he knew, Jack and Janet Drake were in Cambodia and the crate is from Ireland. But he is familiar with his mother’s handwriting on the Customs manifest in the outside pouch, so at least he can assume it hasn’t been shipped to Drake Manor as a type of postal assault.

The top is nailed down and Tim thinks of the hammer in the groundskeeper’s shed. It takes him only moments to find, but takes almost an hour to prise it open. He’s sweating and annoyed when he finally slides the top off.

Anti-climatically, he’s greeted with packing peanuts. 

Rooting around in the offending Styrofoam unearths a folded note – also written in his mother’s hand. The note is definitely not addressed to Tim, so he sets it aside then continues digging. Tim slowly unearths his parents’ newest relic collectibles, like his very own archeological dig. It’s all the same-old-same-old, old stuff and whatever his parents think is worthy of purchasing. Ceremonial relics, cultural artifacts, ceramic vases and bowls and small votives. There’s one odd wood carving that looks like something he’d have to make in art class.

Nestled in the bottom of a crate is a small wooden box, polished to a gleaming deep brown. The brass hardware stands out against the dark burnish. Tim turns it over in his hands and admires it, appreciating the way it fits neatly in his palm. It’s quite high quality, even Tim can see that. But of course, the box is only an accessory to its contents. There was a fleeting consideration to shake it, but Tim stamped down on the urge. Afterall, whatever was inside was an antique, if not ancient.

Tim puzzles over the small metal figurine inside. The purple velvet lining makes the pewter look like silver. But Tim has no clue what the shape is or what it represents. He squints at it in the waning afternoon light of the hall. The pronged circle attached to a wide rectangle vaguely resembles an ancient depiction of a human, if humans had horns. Or maybe the circle is a torso and the prongs artistic rendition of limbs? The prong is flared, almost like it has a crown.

There's a leather throng looped through the head. Tim thinks it's ugly and wonders what type of person would wear it. Sometimes Mother wore the ancient jewelry they collected, but this wasn't to her usual taste. Thus there must be something culturally important about it.

A mystery. Tim likes those. He likes solving things, he likes worrying his mind over pieces that don't fit until they do. Afterall, it's how he figured out Batman’s and both Robins’ identities and started birdwatching.

He pushes to his feet and jogs up the stairs. The computer in his dad's office has an internet connection. No one ever notices Tim using it. The housekeeper won't be around until tomorrow when he's at school. She won't suspect a thing as long as he turns it off and doesn't make a mess.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Tim trips over his abandoned skateboard. In the moment between losing his balance and hitting the ground, Tim thinks “oh crap” and prepares mentally for impact. Tim is no stranger to the fickle ways of gravity. You don't learn to skateboard without becoming the proud owner of scars and bruises. Tim automatically outstretches his hands to catch his fall

The strange pendant, still clutched in his hand, catches the soft meaty flesh of his palm. Tim hisses in pain, knee smarting. Gathers himself to sit cross legged and kicks the skateboard, annoyed at himself. He carefully uncurls his fingers, then gulps at the large gash on his hand. 

Oh god, Tim thinks while blinking at the deep cut. That definitely needs stitches. Oh shit, who can he call to get stitches? Who can take him? Tim glances around himself as if expecting someone to appear, to come running at the sound of his fall, to coo over his cut. 

A cold feeling fills his belly. Stupid. Tim knows there's no one there to help. But still he looked. Stupid.

Blood drips onto his jeans. He needs to get up, find a first aid kit. Skating is going to suck like this. He blinks back tears.

The light in the hallways shifts, darkens. It's getting late. He really needs to get up. With a sigh, Tim scolds himself then pushes to his feet, hurt hand cradled to his chest. But as he stands, the light continues to ebb away, darkness swirling around him. Tim freezes. The air pressure shifts and Tim shivers in the sudden chill.

“I am Fright Knight, Lord of Fear and the Spirit of All Hallows's Eve. Who dares summon me?” a voice rumbles, echoes, rings through the hallways, deep and haughty. Tim whirls towards it, hands halfway to covering his ears.

And nearly trips again on his skateboard. A man in a pure black suit of armor, glowing a menacing green, floats half a foot over the ground. Tim can't see the man's face as he towers over him, but the green glowing eyes bore into him.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” Tim snaps. Ok, dumb move probably. But what else is Tim going to do? He's twelve and home alone.

The suit of armor tilts its head. Oh right, duh, Tim. It answered that.

“Right, Fright Knight, summoned. Was it this?” He shows the knight his hand and thoroughly bloodied pendant. They both stare at his hand. A quiet plip-plip of blood dripping onto the floor accentuates the quiet.

“Where are your guardians?”

“Not home.” Tim isn’t an idiot. He knows better than to tell people his parents are out of the country. Or that he’s home alone.

“When will they return home?”

Tim stares at the floating suit of armor for a long time. There’s an impression it is squinting at him. He shrugs.

Plip-plip goes his hand.

(Remainder of the fic on ao3!)

[todaysbat]

California now has an official state bat: the Pallid Bat (Antrozous pallidus).

image description: a US postal stamp featuring a photo of a reddish orange bat with cream underside. The stamp is labelled "Pallid Bat" in green. Additional text reads "USA 37" in green and blue. Image source: National Postal Museum, The Smithsonian

Pallid bats are very cool, they're immune to scorpion venom after all, but there are literally two different species of bat found in California with California in their name that I would have expected to be named state bat before the Pallid bat.

California myotis (Myotis californicus) image description: a brown bat with black wings and a very mousey face roosting under a roof Image source: the high fin sperm whale, via wikipedia

California leaf-nosed bat (Macrotus californicus) image description: a grey bat with triangular flap of skin or leaf sticking up from its now. It is being held in a researcher's hand. image source: US Fish and Wildlife Service via wikipedia