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captinamericashusband · 3 months ago

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Juno | Steve Rogers/Captain America x Male!Reader (SMUT😉)

A/N: Wow another Steve Rogers fic. Anyways this one is smut. Also this is my first ever attempt at writing smut so it's going to be really bad. So enjoy!

Title and plot (loosely) based off of Sabrina Carpenter's new song (stream the album btw or else):

Juno

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: I might let you make me Juno 😉

Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex

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“And then he said to me, ‘How about you change your dentures!’” A chorus of laughter erupted from around the table. Among the voices and chuckles was Y/N, sporting a fake laugh to hide the pain he was currently feeling on the inside. He so badly wanted to leave, thinking that laughing at whatever he was presented with would help pass the night.

Y/N was an Avenger. He loved his job – no doubt. He loved being able to help people on a worldwide scale, and the overall idea of doing something that mattered. However, what Y/N didn’t realize was that the fine print of the Avenger’s contract included him forcefully being present at the annual U.S. Defence Symposium Convention, where diplomats and political leaders from around the globe gathered to discuss foreign affairs. While he never had to speak during these conventions, Y/N’s presence was required for Avengers PR reasons. Why it couldn’t be anyone else was a question he’d never find the answer to. Luckily for him, he wasn’t alone this year. Even better for him, he was with his lovely boyfriend.

Y/N glanced towards Steve at the other side of the circular table. Steve was already looking at him, wearing a similar bored expression. The two shared tired smiles. A positive that came with being Captain America’s boyfriend was intimate looks like these, shared across dinner tables, conference meetings, and other situations where they couldn’t be close. Looks and glances that made Y/N feel warm inside. No one else knew, even the team, of their clandestine relationship, afraid of the uproar that would come if it were to become public. The controversy that came with two of the United States’ defensive powerhouses dating – especially considering both were men – was something Y/N chose to think about rarely.

The senator continued his comedically-not-funny joke, and Y/N felt grey hairs growing. He knew he had to leave or he would’ve broken down in tears. As a guest speaker was about to be introduced, Y/N politely excused himself from the table and glanced towards Steve, his eyes already on him. He gave him a wink – a not-so-discrete signal they both came up with before arriving, loosely meaning, ‘I can’t handle this anymore and I need to get the fuck out of here – meet me in the bathroom.’

As he walked through the halls of the large venue, he marvelled at the grandness of the building where the convention was held. While he despised being there, he had to admit the building was architecturally and aesthetically pleasing, being more on the higher end of NYC establishments with its Art Deco-inspired assets. When Y/N made it to the bathroom, he checked beneath the stalls to see if anyone was present before letting out a loud groan. He knew he had to talk to Nick Fury later to discuss his supposedly mandatory attendance at the energy-draining convention. He couldn’t stand another second here. Leaning against the sink, he waited for Steve to arrive.

After about two minutes, the door to the washroom opened, and Y/N was met with Steve's presence. Steve raised his eyebrows, silently asking if anyone else was there, to which Y/N responded by shaking his head. “What did it, huh?” Steve asked, closing the door behind him.

“That geriatric senator, obviously – Senator Shortdick,” Y/N groaned. The senator’s name was actually in fact Dick – something Y/N’s immaturity found astoundingly hilarious. “His very long extended joke about…I don’t even know actually.”

“He was talking about his son, Y/N,” Steve said, walking closer to the other man. “It was a nice story – very wholesome.” When Steve reached Y/N, he wrapped his arms around his waist before giving him a small peck.

Y/N’s eyes met Steve’s, and they both gave each other reassuring smiles. They both desperately wanted to leave, but were aware they legally couldn’t.

“I don’t think I can handle this anymore, Steve,” Y/N’s voice whined, laying his head on Steve’s muscular chest, and caressing his sides. “I need something exciting.” Suddenly, as if he had an epiphany, Y/N conjured a devious idea to pass the time. Looking up at Steve, he gave him a half-lidded look, an action he did in jest whenever he wanted something from him. “We should fuck right now.”

Steve only responded with a bewildered look, slowly shaking his head and reprimanding Y/N’s unsavoury suggestion. “We can’t, Y/N,” he said. “It’s too risky. Not to mention, distasteful – we’re in public.” Steve was the more rational person in their relationship, often taking Y/N’s outrageous ideas to heed.

“Why not, Stevie?” Y/N’s voice feigned softness and seductivity. “Isn’t it exciting,” he started, arms sliding up Steve’s clothed bicep. “The idea of getting caught here.”

“Not really-.” Before Steve could continue, Y/N connected their lips. It started soft – short and sweet – before gradually getting more intense and feverish. Steve pushed the small of Y/N’s back closer, deepening the touch of their lips. Steve wanted Y/N badly, and Y/N was aware of that. He always knew that he had some type of figurative spell over Steve, causing him to be more acquiescent towards him than any other member of the team – even before they started dating. Steve was entirely bewitched by Y/N.

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The two eventually locked themselves in one of the bathroom stalls, lips already connected and moving together hungrily. Both prayed no toilet would come beckoning some diplomat’s bladder amidst their carnal moment together. As they continued face-fucking each other, Y/N trailed his hands down towards Steve’s pantsuit. He palmed Steve’s already present bulge, rubbing it with the soles of his hand and causing a quiet whimper to leave Steve’s mouth. At hearing Steve’s sultry noise, Y/N felt his cock growing harder and heavier.

Y/N broke their lips’ ravenous movement and began unbuttoning Steve’s tux. “I saw you practically ogling me in there.” He bit one of Steve’s sensitive spots on his neck, eliciting a low groan from his throat. “It’s like you were begging to fuck me with your fuck-me eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve panted in response.

“Stay oblivious then, Stevie.” Y/N slipped Steve’s suit off, revealing his muscled buff chest. Not even a second later, Y/N’s mouth began trailing down Steve’s torso. He peppered kisses all over Steve’s chest, going further and further down until he was on his knees. Y/N came face-to-face with Steve’s growing bulge. He salivated, thinking about taking Steve’s entire cock in one go – the idea of hearing Steve’s whimpers made his dick even firmer.

Steve’s gaze was locked on Y/N. His eyes were half-closed, face flushed with both lust and pleasure. Y/N then unbuttoned Steve’s pants before taking them off which revealed Steve’s undergarments. Without sparing another moment, Y/N yanked Steve’s boxers off. Steve’s cock, upon being unclothed, sprung upwards and ached in the cold bathroom air. It begged for attention that Y/N’s mouth was more than willing to give. A slight droplet of precum was already at the slit which made Y/N even more aroused. Not wanting Steve to finish quickly (as if that is even a problem with his serum-induced stamina), Y/N started slow. He gave Steve’s shaft one long lick at the base, relishing the semi-salty taste. Y/N continued licking, throwing occasional glances towards Steve and how he was reacting. The quiet whimpering coming out of Steve’s mouth was evident he wanted – needed more. “Just please take it all, Y/N,” he quietly whined.

Y/N chuckled. He decided Steve had been good tonight and, sparing him from further punishment, took his entire cock in his mouth. A loud moan erupted from Steve to which he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth to silence. Y/N had to adjust to Steve’s size for a moment before doing anything further. Despite having done this several times, Y/N always thought Steve’s dick was maybe too big for him. This wasn’t that much of a problem for him as while he did struggle in throating it, it did make his ass feel good. And very sore afterwards. After a brief moment, Y/N began to slowly move his head up and down Steve’s cock. Steve struggled to quiet down his noises of pleasure as much as Y/N struggled trying not to choke. With each movement of Y/N’s head, Steve was hitting the back of his throat which sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. Steve, however, wanted much more.

To Y/N’s shock, Steve bundled his hands in his H/C locks and shoved him further down his throat. Y/N’s eyes went wide, gagging noises coming from his clogged mouth. Before Y/N could steady himself, Steve began ramming his throat at a rapid speed, his attempt to quiet himself vanishing as he prioritized quickly getting off with Y/N’s mouth. As Steve continued at his pace, he let out breathy moans that were amplified and reverbed by the bathroom’s walls. While Steve was in pure bliss at his cock being serviced, Y/N was not able to cope with the sudden change. His hands were placed on both of Steve’s thighs, trying to steady himself. Tears pricked near the corner of his eyes as his entire buccal cavity and throat continued being ransacked by Steve’s length. Each time Steve’s cock hit the rear of his throat, Steve shuddered and Y/N gagged loudly. As Steve began nearing his climax, he began to go even quicker than his initial speed, causing Y/N’s tears to freefall down his cheeks. With one loud grunt and a sloppy thrust, Steve came down Y/N’s throat. As Y/N felt the warm and salty fluid trail down his throat, Steve’s breaths became more shallow.

Steve leaned against the stall’s door, and a slick ‘pop’ sounded as he took his cock out of Y/N’s mouth. He was still recovering from his orgasm as Y/N quickly got up from his knees and roughly pushed his chest. “Dude!’ Y/N half-yelled. “What the fuck was that? You nearly killed me!”

Steve staggered slightly at Y/N’s hit. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression that quickly vanished upon seeing his tear-stained cheeks. An apologetic look promptly dawned. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine it’s just,” Y/N said while wiping his face, “you have to warn me first before you do that.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Steve did look remorseful. His face looked as if he had accidentally kicked a dog. “We should probably stop now.”

Y/N gave looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” He pointed sternly towards Steve, his voice coming out furious with a tinge of playfulness. “The only apology I’ll accept now is if you fuck me right here.”

“But, Y/N, I don’t have the…” Steve’s voice trailed off.

“The what, Steve?”

“You know,” Steve said, face slightly pink. “The wet thing and the rubber thing?”

An actual genuine look of bewilderment made its way onto Y/N’s face. “You mean condoms and lube?” Steve nodded shyly and Y/N began to laugh. “Steve, you just pounded my face in. Don’t give me any shit about you being too coy to say the words ‘condom’ and ‘lube’.” He then glanced down towards Steve’s penis which was already erect again. “Plus, your thing,” he continued, mocking Steve’s mannerisms, “still looks pretty wet from my spit. And as far as I remember, none of us have any diseases.” Y/N quickly looked towards Steve. “Right?” Steve nodded his head quickly, still too embarrassed to respond. Before Steve could do anything further, Y/N took his pants off alongside his underwear. “You’re already hard again, Steve. What are you gonna do 'bout it?”

Y/N’s teasing tone evoked Steve’s earlier confidence, leading to him hoisting Y/N around his waist, a quick yelp coming out of Y/N at the sudden movement. Before Y/N could say anything, Steve hastily prevented him by connecting their lips. Their tongues quickly tangled together, saliva combining and becoming indistinguishable from one another. “Steve, just put it in already, God.” Y/N’s voice came out breathy and unstable. Steve obeyed quicker than usual, seemingly eager to come a second time that night. Grabbing his cock with one hand and supporting Y/N with the other, he angled it towards Y/N's gaping hole. Without wasting any more time, Steve promptly thrust the entirety of his length inside of Y/N. A filthy ludicrous whine came from Y/N’s throat. His prostate was already being reached by Steve’s tip, causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head. He was euphoric and as Steve started moving, his speed matching that of earlier, Y/N felt like he ascended.

Steve was usually gentle whenever they had sex, but he decided to spare no mercy tonight. His thrusts were aggressive, leaving Y/N unable to handle the surplus of pleasure he was feeling. With each graze felt by his prostate, he was sent further into the heavenly bliss he felt. “H-have you seen that one movie,” Y/N said in between heavy pants. “Juno?” He knew it was a stupid question, both in the situation he asked it in, and how he knew Steve had barely seen anything made in the 21st century.

Steve continued thrusting into Y/N, the sound of their skin slapping reverberating around the room. “No – fuck,” Steve’s voice came out breathless. “What is that?” His face was contorting into different variations of lewd expressions, making Y/N’s hard-on even stiffer. It was rare to see the Captain America in such a vulnerable state, and Y/N savoured the fact he was the only person who was able to see him like this.

The pleasure Y/N felt inside of him was indescribable. Their fucking had never reached this level of catharsis. “Nothing – it doesn’t matter. Just keep going, Steve…please…” Y/N saw the little dribble of precum dripping from his cock. He was close. And Y/N knew Steve was too from how his pounds started becoming sloppier, and how his hands gripped his ass tighter. Their lips found each other again, and their tongues connected. Steve swallowed all of Y/N’s whimpers, biting his lower lip to prevent any would-be passersby from hearing his erotic gasps for air.

“I’m gonna come, Y/N,” Steve breathlessly spoke. His pacing started to decline, and his entire body trembled.

As Steve was about to endure another orgasm, Y/N saw him about to pull out. Suddenly, he protested with a hoarse sigh, “No, Steve, just finish inside me – it’s fine.” Steve nodded his head silently, not needing to be told twice. Their pants continued syncing together as Steve rode out his climax. Another load of his hot white cream exited him and filled Y/N to the brim. Shortly after Steve finished, Y/N felt his climax coming in. Steve continued floppily thrusting to aid in his release, soon releasing in thick ribbons that covered his and Steve’s chests.

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Steve gently collapsed both of their bodies on the ground. The pair were in a state of exhausted pleasure, their breaths still deep and frequent. It stayed this way for a few minutes – Steve and Y/N basking in the decline of their orgasms in a comfortable silence. Y/N glanced down towards his ass, a tad icked out by Steve’s jizz pouring out of him. “It’s kind of gross isn’t it,” he said to Steve.

Steve was broken out of his euphoric trance upon hearing Y/N’s voice. “What is?” He said, still catching his breath.

“Look,” Y/N signalled to his downward area. “It looks really strange.” The pair’s eyes met and they both erupted in boisterous laughter.

As they started quieting down from what they considered the funniest thing of that night, Steve suddenly remembered what Y/N asked earlier. “Hey, what was it with that movie you asked me about earlier.”

“Juno?” Y/N responded.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Y/N said, getting uncharacteristically shy. “I just thought…it’d be nice if we have kids one day.” Y/N then realized what he said and began doubling down. “I mean, that is if you want any with me at all – children I mean. A family.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Instead, he smiled at Y/N, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. Y/N responded by giving him a meek smile. They both were met with another silence, their love-laced gazes filling each other with a comforting warmth.

“How are we gonna get out of here, Steve?” Y/N’s voice came out softly, too absorbed in the moment to genuinely care about where they were.

“Now that is the predicament, isn’t it?” Steve said, reciprocating Y/N’s blissful voice.

Fortunately, it was evident that luck was on their side that night as no one had entered the bathroom at any point in their love-making.

FIN

A/N: My Google searches are legit “Synonyms for ‘cock’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms for ‘moaning’ in fanfiction”, “Synonyms of ‘cum’ in fanfiction”, and “How to write smut properly.” Anyways, hope you enjoyed whatever that mess was!

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covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago

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With the toll of new COVID-19 infections regularly topping 1 million a day and weekly deaths creeping toward the 1,000 mark, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has launched a campaign aimed not at protecting the public from this ongoing pandemic, now in its fifth year, but at washing its hands of responsibility.

CDC Director Dr. Mandy Cohen held a press conference August 23 to review the state of the COVID-19 pandemic and encourage the public to get their winter COVID-19, RSV and flu vaccines once they are made available. While bluntly acknowledging that “COVID is with us,” she tried unconvincingly to assure reporters and viewers that “we have the tools to protect ourselves.” She then added, as a way of shifting the blame, “We just need to use them!”

Dr. Cohen was silent on who was responsible for the failure of most Americans to get booster shots or otherwise protect themselves from a disease, which can be fatal for many and cause lifelong debilitation for many more.

She could have named the Democratic administration of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, which ended the COVID-19 emergency more than a year ago and treats the pandemic as a thing of the past. She could have named Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump, the promoter of quack remedies like ivermectin and bleach, who recently welcomed into his campaign the anti-vaxxer and enemy of science and public health, Robert F. Kennedy Jr.

And if she had been equipped with a mirror—and a conscience—she could have pointed to herself and other top CDC officials, who have collaborated in the anti-scientific rampage to shut down both mitigation efforts and even elementary data collection on cases of illness, hospitalization and death.

Most importantly (and therefore least likely) she could have acknowledged that within the framework of the capitalist system, the profits of giant banks and corporations are far more important than the lives of human beings. That is the meaning of the incessant claims that schools, factories, public transportation and facilities must be kept open, to save “the economy,” despite the inevitable spread of the infection as a result.

Dr. Cohen, like her predecessors and colleagues at the top of the public health establishment, puts political pressures above science and medicine. The nearly hour-long briefing was simply political theater, where a panel of experts attempted to place the public health agency in the best light despite acknowledging the monumental number of daily infections that have seen hospitalizations and fatalities climb.

Meanwhile, schools across multiple states have announced closures—affecting thousands—just as the new academic year has begun, in response to mass infections among faculty and students.

So far this year, more than 26,000 Americans have died from acute COVID-19 complications, and more than 800 per week are being killed by a preventable infection, a figure 20 percent higher than last year this time. At the current rate, it is expected that between 50,000 to 60,000 Americans will die from COVID-19 in 2024, a rate two to three times higher than fatalities from flu. However, these do not take into consideration excess deaths, and given the complete dismantling of the reporting systems, these figures are known undercounts.

Such figures could only appear low in comparison to the colossal death toll of the first three years of the pandemic, when 352,000 died in 2020, 464,000 in 2021 and 260,000 in 2022. In 2023, 76,000 COVID-19 deaths were recorded. All these numbers are underestimates, as excess mortality figures are considerably higher. The cumulative death toll from COVID-19 is likely well over 1.4 million in the United States and approaching 30 million worldwide.

Neither did the panel address any concerns over the fact that millions continue to suffer from Long COVID, which has taken a significant toll on the health of Americans and the world over. It bears mentioning that a recent study noted that 410 million people across the world have had Long COVID with a $1 trillion impact on global GDP. Yet, no treatment for this condition exists. Without health insurance and means, issues of brain fog, chronic fatigue and sleep disturbances become part of one’s physiognomy.

Much about Dr. Cohen’s characterization of the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic is deeply flawed and should have been taken up by the press, who remained silent on the matter. First and foremost, her claim, in response to a direct question that COVID-19 “is endemic,” is completely misleading.

An infection is endemic when it is contained, not spreading uncontrolled and not causing significant impact on the society. COVID-19 is none of these. It remains a pandemic, with new waves of infections where millions are being infected daily by a virus whose mutation far outstrips the efforts of public health agencies and pharmaceutical companies to provide vaccines, medicines and mitigation practices. It continues to cause large-scale social disruption, economic loss and general hardship.

The opposition of both capitalist parties to any significant effort to fight the pandemic was on display last week. The Democratic National Convention, like its Republican counterpart in July, was a massive superspreader event, with thousands of delegates and media personnel congregating in an enclosed arena, where there was continuous cheering, shouting and singing. There are already anecdotal reports of widespread sickness in state delegations returning from Chicago.

As for the Republicans, Trump staged his appearance with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. on Friday afternoon, beaming as Kennedy announced he was folding up his independent presidential campaign and endorsing the ex-president and would-be dictator. Kennedy said he was working with Trump on staffing agencies like the CDC, NIH, FDA and USDA from the standpoint of ending the “chronic disease crisis.” By this he means, of course, ending efforts to fight diseases and letting children, the elderly, and the entire American population suffer the consequences.

Fundamentally, all large epidemics and pandemics are serious social issues that require broad-scale infection control in place to disrupt and prevent disease. And with respect to COVID-19 and all future pandemics, these require an international collaborative perspective.

In 2024 so far, 179 million people were infected in the United States, a total that is eventually expected to surpass 2023, when more than 248 million Americans, or three-quarters of the population, caught COVID-19. SARS-CoV-2 wastewater levels throughout the pandemic suggest that there have been more than 1.1 billion infections in the United States, between three and four for every person in the country.

This begs the question how are those most vulnerable, such as the elderly, immunocompromised, and those with chronic disabling medical conditions, which represent a significant portion of the population, to protect themselves from perpetual mass infection?

For the CDC director to present public health efforts as a matter of individual, personal choice is a gross falsification of reality. The policy of mass infection has been forced on the population.

As for having the tools to protect themselves, what is being offered are simply vaccines and more vaccines as a means to prevent COVID-19. As the WSWS recently noted, “Despite the limitations, the uptake of the vaccines is vital for the health of the population. The shots have a strong, proven safety record and do prevent severe disease and potentially reduce the risk of Long COVID, as studies have indicated. However, they do not prevent infections and the immunity they offer is short-lived given the constant mutation of the virus.”

The vaccines by Pfizer and Moderna carry a cost of $120 to $130 per shot. In some regions, these can be as high as $160 or even $200. However, the rescinding in March of $4.3 billion from the Department of Health and Human Services in COVID-19 supplemental funding means access to free vaccines for the 26 million uninsured and tens of millions more underinsured, essentially all from working class families, will only mean that the vaccination campaign will simply languish as it did last year when only 7 million Americans accepted the boosters within six weeks of their delivery to pharmacies.

As for other tools in their toolbox, Cohen refers to anti-viral treatments like Paxlovid, which are regularly being denied to patients by their physicians or when they actually are given a prescription, face the daunting price tag of $1,300 to $2,400 per course because their insurance denies them coverage. Meanwhile, repurposed medications like Metformin, a drug that treats diabetes, which has shown anti-viral properties and shown in randomized trials to reduce COVID-19 viral loads and decrease risk of Long COVID, remain unmentioned. In particular, this raises the question of why there are so few tools in the toolbox, and why some are being removed, such as the ability to wear N95 masks in public.

The arrest of an 18-year-old New York man in Nassau County on Tuesday who was wearing a black ski mask utilizing the recently passed mask-ban legislation will only embolden police departments and threaten the public who face possible detentions and arrest simply on charges of police suspicion.

At the Democratic National Convention, guidance was issued forbidding mask wearing by attendees unless “it was necessary due to a disability” and this at the discretion of security.

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #public health #still coviding #wear a respirator

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kickingitwithkirk · 8 months ago

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Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha Sam

Word Count: 862

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter

Warnings: A/B/O, non/con elements , dub/con elements, enslavement, pandemic, non/con drug use, collaring/leashing, forced mating, forced breeding, BDSM elements, show-level violence

*Additional warnings to be added

Square filled: @spnaubingo -Dystopian AU

A/N: * UPDATED 3/24 They say the third time is the charm, this will be the last rework of the Prologue.

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Prologue

North Dakota

1999

John Winchester slowly drove down the snow-covered drive leading to an old warehouse and parked the ‘67 Impala in the back of its busy lot. All three Winchesters silently climbed out and trudged through the accumulated snow to the front entrance. If anyone had given him the choice between being here or hell, John would have picked hell.

Eighty years earlier

A virulent disease accidentally escaped a research lab, and the following pestilence wiped out 70% of the Omega population worldwide. At the same time, Alphas and Betas were predominantly immune and rarely died from it unless they had a chronic illness.

As in ancient times, the remaining Omegas were fought over, resulting in countries declaring martial law and rounded up the remaining Domestic Omegas. Several years later, a treatment was developed but the damage was nearly irrevocable. Betas had begun to reproduce to the point the other sub-genders would be extinct within a few decades.

At a hastily convened conference, the world's leading scientists offered the governing bodies with a short-term, yet controversial, solution: obtain Omegas from the remaining Wild Packs for a breeding program.

They presented evidence that introducing their genetics, relatively unchanged since splitting from their wolf ancestors, into mainstream populations would create a natural immunity against future resurgence and rebalance the sub-genders. Many argued the idea was insane. Those Omegas, or O’s, were too feral, still living as their wolf ancestors did and incapable of being domesticated.

The scientists then demonstrated an implant they developed containing multiple benefits. It would dampen O’s natural aggression and induce presentation from sixteen to thirteen. Domesticated Omegas had been bred down to present their early twenties and produced one pup at a time. The implant would also shorten the time between breeding seasons and increase litter size by controlled ovulation hyperstimulation.

The world leaders drew up a preliminary framework for each country that signed the accord to follow. Over the next thirty years, they would procure Wild Pack O’s for distribution from government-managed facilities, with an addendum upon review it’d be extend in certain regions if deemed necessary. In the Americas, it was called the Hibbing Procurement Act.

Over those years, the populus discovered other uses for the O’s descendants, who developed into their distinct designation called House O’s. Unscrupulous individuals elected lawmakers who supported extension after extension, even installing loopholes, such as permitting Wild Pack Alphas to accept payments under the table from those on the fringes for O’s the government deemed unsuitable for breeding, creating an underground network of sellers called The Dealers.

And who would complain if some O’s slated for legitimate sales accidentally slipped through and sold for exorbitant prices on the underground market?

John knocked on the steel door in a predetermined code. As it slowly rolled open, he glanced at his almost grown pups, thankful they’d taken a dose of rut suppressants earlier because the air was thick with ready-to-breed O scent.

Walking into the building, the younger Winchesters automatically fall back on their training, checking their surroundings for potential danger. John observes to his left buyers on cell phones circling like vultures eight steel cages displaying O’s clad in elaborate silver collars, high-end specimens selling for exorbitant prices.

The rest of the warehouse is an open space with multiple rows of O’s kneeling side by side, leashed to low railings anchored in the concrete floor. They wear color-coded leather collars denoting their monetary value.

“John Winchester, this is a surprise! To whom do I owe the honor of your presence?” The nasal voice of Everett Helms, a black-haired Beta, oozes the fake, cheerful demeanor of a used car salesman approached the trio. Hunters only dealt with Helms because he was reputed to be able to acquire anything they needed..for a price. John had hoped to avoid him, but after eight days of unsuccessful procurement at other facilities, The Dealer was his last option.

Helms held out his hand, and John felt bile rising, not wanting to touch him when a poorly timed footfall caught his attention. “These must be your pups. My, my my, delicious, aren’t they!” Helms remarks as his eyes rove over Dean and then settle on the youngest Winchester calculatingly when a loud, menacing growl fills the air.

Dean's eyes began glowing red, daring the ogling Dealer to make a move on his ever-growing little brother. He felt Sam huddle closer to his back and release his calming pheromone as, judging from their father’s posturing, John was about to tear into Sam for attracting attention after specifically instructing him to stay invisible. Sam quickly averted his gaze down through his shaggy bangs, glaring at his oversized, sneaker-clad feet, again wishing he wasn’t so fucking clumsy with this growth spurt.

Helms turned back to John, acting as if nothing had occurred. “I hear your oldest got himself in a peck of trouble, and he needs an O to stay out of prison. Well, John, may I call you John? You’ve come to the right place. As you can see,” he waved a hand over his domain, “I can supply any type of O an Alpha could wish for.”

Part I

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine

#winchester's folly 3/24 update #winchester's folly #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #dystopia #dean x reader x sam #dean x reader #sam x reader #spn au #a/b/o au #a/b/o dynamics #supernatural #spn

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fuckyeahmarxismleninism · 11 months ago

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Remember and fight: Memorial demonstration in Berlin for Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg

Palestine solidarity as a trigger for police attacks that left numerous people injured.

By Nick Brauns, junge Welt

“Viva Palestine” could be heard from afar from the kilometer-long demonstration that marched under red flags to the Socialist Cemetery: Israel's war against Gaza was the dominant theme at the traditional memorial demonstration for Karl Liebknecht and Rosa Luxemburg, the co-founders of the Communist Party of Germany who were murdered by right-wing Freikorps soldiers 105 years ago, on Sunday in Berlin.

Solidarity with Palestine was also the trigger for brutal police attacks that left numerous people injured. First, a speaker from a block of mostly Palestinian demonstrators was arrested -- the reason for this was the banned slogan "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free," a police spokesman told jW. After the arrest, blocks of the front part of the demonstration turned around and the police were briefly pushed away.

The frightening results of the subsequent use of batons and pepper spray by the helmeted state power: A 65-year-old man, run over by the police, lay unconscious on the ground and bleeding from his mouth and nose. According to demonstration paramedics, 15 other demonstrators also had to be treated in hospital with injuries, some of them serious, such as broken bones. The police, however, spoke of attacks on officers during the demonstration, with 21 police officers injured.

"I'm glad that the other demonstrators immediately showed their solidarity with us. This is where our strength lies,” a Palestinian activist named Walid told jW.

According to the police, among the 16 demonstrators arrested are several musicians from Turkey's Grup Yorum, who are currently on a hunger strike for comrades imprisoned in the Federal Republic of Germany.

According to the organizers, more than 10,000 people took part in the demonstration. In addition to blocks from DKP and SDAJ, MLPD, Trotskyist groups and socialist parties from Turkey and Kurdistan, but also left-wing trade unionists and neighborhood initiatives, what was noticeable was the strong participation of mostly young supporters of Marxist-Leninist organizations, dressed in black and in orderly formations among a sea of red flags. “Road free for the red youth,” “Youth, future, socialism” and “With Rosa and Karl against war and capital” were heard from these blocks.

With the banner "Defend Revolutionary History! Attack German warmongers!” and images of Luxemburg, Liebknecht and Lenin, who died 100 years ago, the “Perspective Communism” movement made it clear that commemoration is not a nostalgic end in itself. This is also how Sevda Karaca, a member of the Labor Party (EMEP) in the Turkish parliament, sees it. “Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht are revered worldwide as champions of socialism,” Karaca told this newspaper at the Socialist Cemetery. "In times when fascist ideas are increasing worldwide, it is particularly important that we reflect on the roots of our resistance."

Even before the demonstration arrived, thousands of people, including the leadership of the Die Linke party, had taken part in a "silent commemoration." The murdered labor leaders were honored at their graves with red carnations and wreaths.

Solidarity with the Palestinian struggle for freedom, the call for peace and the need for socialism also played a central role at the 29th International Rosa Luxemburg Conference. The conference organized by this newspaper took place on Saturday in the Berlin Tempodrom with a new record attendance of 3,700 visitors.

Translation by Melinda Butterfield

https://www.jungewelt.de/artikel/466755.ll-demo-erinnern-und-k%C3%A4mpfen.html

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 year ago

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The Palestinian people have tried every method to achieve some form of meaningful self-determination. ‘Renounce violence’, they were told. They did, apart from the odd reprisal after an Israeli atrocity. Among Palestinians at home and in the diaspora, there was massive support for Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions: a peaceful movement par excellence, which began to gain traction worldwide among artists, academics, trade unions and occasionally governments. The US and its NATO family responded by trying to criminalize BDS across Europe and North America – claiming, with the help of Zionist lobby groups, that boycotting Israel was ‘antisemitic’. This has proved largely effective. In Britain, Keir Starmer’s Labour Party has banned any mention of ‘Israeli apartheid’ at its upcoming national conference. The Labour left, scared of being expelled, has fallen silent on this issue. A sorry state of affairs. Meanwhile, most of the Arab states have joined Turkey and Egypt in capitulating to Washington. Saudi Arabia is currently in negotiations, mediated by the White House, to officially recognize Israel. The international isolation of the Palestinian people looks set to increase. Peaceful resistance has gone nowhere. All the while, the IDF has attacked and killed Palestinians at leisure, while successive Israeli governments have worked to sabotage any hope of statehood. Recently, a handful of former IDF generals and Mossad agents have admitted that what is being done in Palestine amounts to ‘war crimes’. But they only plucked up the courage to say this after they’d already retired. While still serving, they fully supported the fascist settlers in the occupied territories, standing by as they burned houses, destroyed olive plantations, poured cement in wells, attacked Palestinians and drove from their homes while chanting ‘Death to the Arabs’. So, too, did Western leaders – who let all this unfold without a murmur. The age of political reason had long departed, as Qabbani would say. Then, one day, the elected leadership in Gaza begins to fight back. They break out of their open-air prison and cross Israel’s southern border, striking at military targets and settler populations. Palestinians are suddenly top of the international headlines. Western journalists are shocked and horrified that they are actually resisting. But why shouldn’t they? They know better than anyone that the far-right government in Israel will retaliate viciously, backed by the US and the mealy-mouthed EU. But even so, they are unwilling to sit by as Netanyahu and the criminals in his cabinet gradually expel or kill most of their people. They know that the fascist elements of the Israeli state would have no compunction about sanctioning the mass murder of Arabs. And they know this must be resisted by any means necessary. Earlier this year, Palestinians watched the demonstrations in Tel Aviv and understood that those marching to ‘defend civil rights’ did not care about the rights of their occupied neighbours. They decided to take matters into their own hands. Do the Palestinians have a right to resist the non-stop aggression to which they are subjected? Absolutely. There is no moral, political or military equivalence as far as the two sides are concerned. Israel is a nuclear state, armed to the teeth by the US. Its existence is not under threat. It’s the Palestinians, their lands, their lives, that are. Western civilization seems willing to stand by while they are exterminated. They, on the other hand, are rising up against the colonizers.

#israel #palestine #zionism #gaza #emphasis added

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lavendersugarplum · 2 days ago

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𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐍 | umbrella academy reader insert

𝕻ʀᴏʟᴏᴜɢᴇ

IN AN INEXPLICABLE WORLDWIDE EVENT, At the same time that "Tusslin' Tom" Gurney defeated the space-squid from Rigel X-9 with a flying atomic elbow in an exhibition wrestling match, on the 12th hour on the first day of October 1989, forty-three children were spontaneously birthed around the world in a seemingly random occurrence, to women who'd previously shown no signs of pregnancy, most of them single. Most of the children that survived were subsequently abandoned or put up for adoption. The mothers have solemn been known to have have kept the children.

One day, a world renowned scientist and wealthy entrepreneur; Inventor of the The Mobile Umbrella Communicator, and Clever Crisp Cereal. Olympic Gold Medalist and recipient of the Nobel Prize for his work in the ceberal advancement of the chimpanzee. For some reasons unknown, Sir Reginald Hargreeves set out with his bodyguard Abhijat aboard his favorite private vessel, The Minerva. to locate and adopt as many children as possible.

He got seven of them

In the shadowy world of the Umbrella Academy, the children were more than just gifted individuals with extraordinary powers. They were pawns in a game of cosmic proportions, symbols of a higher purpose that extended far beyond their own individuality.

Assigned codenames by their enigmatic and formidable father, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, the children were ranked 00.01 through 00.07 according to their perceived usefulness, their powers and abilities carefully calibrated to meet the needs of a world on the brink of cataclysmic change.

But Hargreeves' plans were shrouded in mystery, his motives obscured by a veil of secrecy that left the children wondering about their true purpose and place in the world.

And so it was that Sir Reginald held a press conference in Stockholm, his face stern and unyielding as he faced a sea of journalists, each one hungry for answers.

"Why have you adopted these children?" asked Cosimo De'Lostrono, a journalist from Milan, his voice ringing out like a challenge in the tense silence of the room.

And yet, Hargreeves' only explanation was a cryptic one, a simple statement that belied the complexity of his plans and the depth of his ambitions. "To save the world," he said, his eyes shining with an intensity that left no doubt as to his commitment to his cause.

Sir Reginald Hargreaves stood before a waiting crowd, his eyes shining with pride and determination. His chest and shoulders were held high, his posture exuding a sense of authority and power that left no doubt as to his dominance.

"Our world is changing," he began, his voice ringing out like a clarion call, the strength and conviction in his words enough to silence the large crowd of people gathered before him. "Has changed. And yet, there are some among us who are gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted seven such children."

It was a bold statement, one that left the audience stunned and silent, their eyes fixed on the seven baby strollers that stood before them like a symbol of hope and possibility.

Reginald stepped aside, gesturing to the strollers as he introduced his children to the general public

"I give you the inaugural class of The Umbrella Academy."

No sooner did Sir Reginald Hargreeves punctuatehis sentence, the room was suddenly filled with a cacophony of sound, a parade of questions and queries from the eager crowd of reporters that squabbled at his feet, each one desperate to get a question in.

"Mr. Hargreeves! Mr. Hargreeves!" shouted a reporter from Channel 9 News, her voice rising above the din of the others. "What happened to their parents?"

For a moment, Sir Reginald stood silent, his face inscrutable as he pondered the weight of the question. And then, with a sudden and decisive motion, he answered, his voice ringing out like a bell in the tense silence of the room.

"They were suitably compensated,"

And yet, even as the reporters continued to clamor and shout, each one struggling to be heard above the others, there was a sense of unease in the room, a sense that something profound and mysterious lay hidden beneath the surface of Sir Reginald's words.

And so the reporters continued to shout and clamor, each one desperate for answers, even as Sir Reginald remained silent, his eyes fixed on some distant horizon, his mind lost in thought and contemplation.

"Are you concerned about the welfare of the children?" Asks another woman with her voice laced with concern, as the other reports had turned to her then back to The Monocle.

And yet, even as the other reporters waited with bated breath for his response, Sir Reginald answered without hesitation, his voice strong and resolute.

"Of course," he said, his words carrying a sense of conviction. "As I am for the fate of the world."

But from what? To this they had received no answer. A lot of questions and conspiracy theories surged around, with civilians questioning the Monocle's tactics and motives. They wondered what kind of world-saving plan involved adopting seven children and raising them in secrecy, away from the outside world.

And yet, even as the questions and speculation continued to swirl around them, Sir Reginald and the seven children vanished from public view, disappearing into the shadows as they prepared for the fateful day when their powers would be needed the most.

~ ☂︎ ~

The scene was one of ominous foreboding, as the skies overhead grew increasingly tempestuous. A dense cloak of darkness descended upon the land, swallowing up any hint of illumination. The clouds swirled and thickened, heralding the approach of a violent storm. Lightning streaked across the horizon like the merciless tides of a black sea, poised to crush anything in its path. Suddenly, without warning, a deluge of water came crashing down, cascading from the structures, trees, and earth below. The ferocious winds howled and roared, sweeping through the murky, gloomy environment with colossal force. Amidst the chaos, a piercing and booming cry could be heard emanating from the Academy's vintage exterior, a haunting sound that echoed through the tumultuous night.

One may believe that a person who adopts not one, but seven children would have a lot of love and nurturing to provide...

Seven small cots stood in a perfect row within what appeared to be a nursery, though to most it would seem more like a chamber of confinement. The room was devoid of windows and sunlight, illuminated only by a single, dim light at its center. Perhaps this was to keep the babies safe and contained, or maybe it was to ensure the protection of their caretakers. Cameras were scattered about the room, capturing every angle and movement with a scrutinizing gaze. The Monocle, also known as Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and explorer, was meticulously recording his daily observations. Though the babies were not yet of his estimated age for their abilities to manifest, it was never too early to start preparing for the future.

He stood in the nursery, his trusted assistant and friend Pogo, an advanced chimpanzee, by his side. Together they scanned the rows of cots, searching for any signs of extraordinary abilities. Suddenly, a thunderous cry erupted from the seventh cot, reverberating throughout the academy. But the Monocle remained unflappable, his expression stoic as he cradled one of the babies in his arms, examining him with practiced precision. Pogo, meanwhile, tried to ignore the wailing, casting occasional side glances at the seventh cot while attending to the fifth. Yet, as soon as Pogo averted his gaze from the fifth crib, a barely audible sneeze sounded, and the baby from the fifth crib vanished into thin air.

Panic surged through Pogo's body as he frantically scanned the room for the vanished child. He knew all too well the wrath that would befall them if the elder discovered what had transpired. His eyes darted from crib to crib, his feet shuffling with urgency as he searched for any sign of the missing baby. With trembling hands, he sifted through the first six cots, his furry fingers grasping at each one in turn. Finally, he arrived at the last bed, where two babies lay side by side. The cries of the little girl still echoed through the room. But as soon as the boy was placed next to her, the sobs subsided, and the two infants gazed at each other with a sense of wonder and recognition.

Pogo's glassy, deep chimp eyes flickered between the seventh cot and the now-vacant one, his voice heavy with concern. "Master Hargreeves," he began tentatively, "is it not highly unusual to witness a baby abruptly teleport into another crib?" The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon him, and he awaited the elder's response with bated breath.

"Absolute Nonsense, Pogo. Now what kind of inquir–astonishing!" The Monocle's once cold and unfeeling eyes filled with dignity and pride looking in amazement at the first child who had displayed signs of his abilities. He set down the baby boy who clung onto his body, roughly as forcibly into the crib with '#4' laminated on the side, not paying any mind, moving to the noisy 7th crib with Pogo taking his place beside him. "I'm sure he's going to be quite the handful as he ages."

"I am painfully aware of the gravity of this matter, but..." The Monocle's words trailed off as he lifted the child from the bustling crib, earning a swift kick from the green-eyed infant. With a small chuckle, he adjusted his monocle and began to examine the baby from head to toe. "This is just... extraordinary," he marveled, his voice filled with wonder. As he gazed upon the child, he could feel a sense of pride swelling within him. "You are truly an extraordinary being," he murmured, his heart full with the knowledge that he had witnessed something truly remarkable.

The Monocle had just begun to reach for his report book when a sudden rumble and shaking rocked the peacefulness of the Academy. Small particles of debris rained down from the ceiling, causing him to instinctively shield his eyes. Within moments, objects and tools began to levitate into the air, defying the laws of physics and gravity. Pogo's voice rang out, filled with alarm and confusion. "Master Hargreeves, what is happening?!" he cried, his eyes darting around the room in terror.

but they would be wrong.

The Monocle was too transfixed by the glowing ball of light emanating from cot #7 to register his assistant's panicked question. With cautious steps, he drew nearer, his eyes fixed on the pulsating orb of energy. The room was filled with a sense of otherworldly power, and he could feel the air crackling with electricity.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves was not the most affectionate of fathers. It would be incredible to see the man show anything other than in scorn and pride. Sir Reginald Hargreeves was distant. Soon the children would be treated as experiments. Weapons. Instruments. Bombs. The children were given numbers rather than names, according to the order in which Sir Reginald Hargreeves had procured them. Grace, the children's mother and personal caregiver, insisted on giving them a proper name.

The baby's cries reached a fever pitch, drowning out the harsh rumbling that now shook the cots with greater intensity. Reginald's eyes remained fixed on the seventh bed, his heart racing with anticipation. The glowing ball of light at the center of the infant's being was near-blinding in its brilliance, but he could not look away. As the child continued to wail, he reached up to adjust his falling monocle, his focus unbroken. But just as he was about to raise it to his eye, the room was filled with the sudden slam of a door.

As the door slammed open, his personal bodyguard, Abhijat, appeared in the doorway, a look of urgency etched onto his face. "Abhijat, what is the matter?" the elder inquired, his tone firm and unwavering. He refused to be distracted from his task, even in the face of potential danger. The rumbling had come to a sudden halt at the sound of the door, but he knew that they could not let their guard down too soon.

"It's ready, sir," Abhijat replied, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a sense of urgency in his tone, and the Monocle knew that they must act quickly if they were to succeed in their mission. With a final glance at the glowing infant, he turned his attention to his loyal bodyguard, trailing off after him.

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ntls-24722 · 1 year ago

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SO I DREW SOME BASE/CORE LOOKS/REDESIGNS OF THE ALIEN MUSIC MEN AND i have some extra lore tidbits

So all their limbs are double-segmented - On the immobiles (left), they no longer have digigrade back legs and now have the same limbs all the way down. Also, I have to applaud them for giving me the idea on how I could make them look coincidentally "human-ish" to still pass off as Music Men - facial discs!

Both their ears are now on their cheeks and have the appearance of DJ's cheeks! accompanied by a facial disc that directs soundwaves down to their tympanums, and with the configuration, they've got a music-man-y appearance. Got the idea from owls since for this same reason they kind of have a very flat-faced appearance!

However, I don't know about the nose. It's not for smell, I would imagine they smell through a completely different way (their antennae, which i was on the fence on actually giving but i will now). I gave the comids a nose like the immobiles for the reason that the comids and immobiles should look more alike but as for how it got there in the first place I have no clue. Maybe it makes them hot? OOH wait what if it helps with making calls

Which, speaking of calls, they actually are called Music Men in canon because of their complicated tracheas - I imagine the reason for it is during the interception where the now-extinct ancestors of the music men were resurrecting their planet, they were homesick for the world pre-extinction, one of the things being their equivalent to birdsong. Their world was, unnervingly, silent, and at a time when they were not at the top of the foodchain, it only reminded them further that death is near. So alongside everything else, they gave the comids and immobiles alike the craziest natural acoustics they could give. They don't exactly have genders - Their "man" is any living thing, and seperate themselves as the "music men."

Also, their homesickness is a tenant in a lot of the music men's religions/values because a big thing is that they have a lot of reverence and protection for any fauna or flora that has remained since before their worldwide intervention - conservation is holy to them because animals are living relics and it's partially why they are so fascinated with us. We are the survivors of an extinction that didn't have an intervention like they did and they kind of wanna stick by our side because of it.

Comet press conference as he explains their desire to stick by our side↓

#god i FUCKING love this exoplanet #the concept that their biology is rooted in history is so COOL #Like #a lot of larger plants have a tumbleweed gimmick going on #bc it's easier to get their seeds to go farther when you're tossing them down your wasteland of a planet like a bowling ball #ntls-24722 #djmm #dj music man #(almost) daily music man #comet

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stevenbasic · 1 year ago

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GITJ Post 325: The Experiment

The tall redhead put down her tea and turned back away from the floor-to-ceiling window, looking over the cityscape. They were on one of the uppermost floors of a highrise, one of the movement’s outposts here on the West Coast. It had been headquarters for a shipping company at one time, one of the many corporations that were being all but absorbed under the mother umbrella. The old “G” logo was still emblazoned on the large, rare-wood conference table that dominated the room, but one could be fairly certain that that’d be replaced in due time. “Honestly,” she began, “I think the Experiment is doing well. She’s-“

“Sure but it’s been so unpredictable in the wild,” replied the woman to whom she’d been speaking, who tossed the file she’d been holding onto the table, “and that’s what makes us concerned. The changes are happening so fast and…well, just look at all the damage control we’ve had to do already.” Both women had a series of meetings today before heading back overseas later, each in different directions, and this project needed some steering. As VP of litigation here, she didn’t want this getting out of control.

“Yes, there’s been some hiccups with the queen and one of her new drones,” the redhead acknowledged, idly fingering the green stone hanging around her neck, “but it’s so promising, the power at our fingertips. Look, the Far Horizon test site itself is at nearly forty so far, with only a small handful of anomalies. The scale is scheduled to more than double there soon and the predictions for Product are so encouraging.”

“We’ve seen the numbers, yes, and the forecasts,” the darker haired woman, an attorney, replied. It was early morning here, a Saturday no less. She’d had less and less time at home these days, and part of her still wanted to be in bed fucking the shit out of her husband. These urges kept growing, goddamn prion, and the thought of him writhing underneath her was getting her panties wet. She understood, though, that this was a crucial time for the company, her career, and history. There was work to be done.

“The synthesized pheromones are also working mostly as expected, Kim,” the statuesque redhead continued, stepping down the room and running her fingers across the seat backs. She’d sat at this table before, planned, proposed. “They’ll allow us to scale up from these smaller units. I just hope they can imagine this on an even larger scale, a bigger company. A building full of hundreds? Thousands? All under the sway of one queen?”

The bosomy brunette executive nodded, picked up her own cup of tea for a maddeningly reflective sip. Argh! the redhead, a scientist by training, silently seethed. These meetings were tedious, and in the past she’d understood the need for caution. But there are others of her kind - and not the scientist type - who were not being so patient and she knew she needed to negotiate them as well.

“Yes yes yes,” the attorney allowed, “We all know you have a personal attachment to this project...”

A ‘personal attachment’?? This had been her life’s work. She’d sacrificed everything for this ‘project’. This ‘Product’.

“...but you know how they feel about this in Kazakhstan,” the attorney continued to explain, herself now looking out over the city, the sun having come up in the East and bathing the buildings in gold, “There’s pushes in all directions, worldwide, pressure for release of Process, of Program. Product is just so…”

The redhead knew what Kim wanted to say, but was instead remaining professional and polite: ‘witchy’. She wanted to call it ‘witchy’. The taller, older woman took a deep breath. “I just wish they saw the full potential, what we could be, and how quickly we could evolve,” she continued, doing her best to keep her cool. She was accustomed, at this point, to dealing with corporate types - hell, she was basically one herself, now - but still. “What Product could mean for the future of Wo-“

“I know. I know. I just think we’re early, still,” the brunette attorney assured her, “Look, I’m going to bring this all back, right to Oksana herself, and talk to the litigation team here.”

Fine, the redhead seethed. “Thank you, Kim, thanks,” she spoke, opening up the smile that would normally work wonders.

“Oh, and by the way,” the brunette spoke, “I just remembered. Dr. Zhestakova’s team wanted you to reach out to them. They’re a little concerned.”

“What now?”

“I think it’s about your, uh, patient,” the attorney answered, finishing her cup of tea, “now that she…isn’t staying with us anymore, can we be sure she’s still taking her meds?”

============================================

Patreonnnnnnn.

#growing into the job

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silent123456 · 10 months ago

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Silent Conference In Montreal

In Montreal, there are these cool events called "silent conferences." What makes them cool is that instead of using regular loudspeakers, everyone wears special headphones. These headphones let you listen to talks, music, and discussions without bothering anyone else. Imagine being on a rooftop with a beautiful city view or in a peaceful park, all while tuning in to what interests you the most through your headphones. It's like having your own personal audio experience. You can switch between different things you want to hear, like interesting talks, live music, or group chats. The best part of Silent Conference In Montreal is that it's good for the environment because it doesn't make a lot of noise, and Montreal cares about being eco-friendly. So, if you're up for a fun and unique way to learn and have a good time in Montreal, these silent conferences are the way to go.

#Silent Conference in Montreal #Hire Silent Conference System In Montreal #silent conference worldwide #silent conference #silent conference system rental #silent conference system hire #silent conference services

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silentconference · 1 year ago

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Silent conference system in New Delhi

Silent conference systems offer several advantages over traditional audio systems, including improved sound quality, reduced noise, increased privacy, and improved accessibility.These systems can be used in various settings, such as conferences, meetings, seminars, trade shows, exhibitions, courts, and lecture halls.They are particularly useful for large events like the G20 Summit, where participants from different countries and languages are present. In the New Delhi G20 Summit, silent conference systems can improve communication by allowing participants to listen to speakers in their native language, reduce noise and improve sound quality, increase privacy, and make the event more accessible for people with hearing disabilities.

silent conference systems can be a valuable asset in big events, conferences like New Delhi G20 Summit, music festivals and many more.

#silent conference in delhi #silent conference system rental #silent meeting equipment #silent conference worldwide

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resistantbees · 14 days ago

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#kleineZellen #amerikanischeFaulbrut

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riverdamien · 2 months ago

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Seein the Spark of the Divine With Each Person!

"Sloughing Towards Galilee!"

CAMPAIGN NONVIOLENCE ACTION DAYS: SEPTEMBER 21-OCTOBER 2, 2024

LET’S BUILD A CULTURE OF ACTIVE NONVIOLENCE!

As we launch the Campaign Nonviolence Action Days on September 21, the International Day of Peace, we take our public stand for peace in solidarity with the millions worldwide suffering in wars in Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Democratic Republic of Congo, Syria, Yemen, and many other places. We know that our yearning for and celebration of peace begins with the courage to challenge and end the horror that is war.

When Campaign Nonviolence launched 11 years ago, calling for “a long-term movement for a culture of peace and active nonviolence, free from war, poverty, racism, and environmental destruction,” we knew that all these issues are connected. We must seek justice for all, not just for some, to end war. And nonviolence provides how we achieve this while breaking the cycle of escalating violence.

Here is a brief glimpse of how people worldwide are taking action to end war and build peace.

Standing for peace. In our militarized and war-torn world, it is important that people take a visible stand for peace. With rallies, marches, candlelight vigils, art, dance, music, film screenings, peace poles, 5K runs, prayers, silent minutes, ringing bells, symposiums, sidewalk chalk messages, and more, people around the world will be reaffirming their support for a peaceful world!

Calling for ceasefires. With the horrific violence in Gaza and Ukraine weighing on their hearts, people are calling for ceasefires. In Milwaukee, Wisconsin, they’re marching for Gaza and for nuclear abolition. In Appleton, WI, they’re calling to end weapons shipments to Israel. In London, England, they’re marching from the department of defense to the office of foreign policy to the prime minister’s doors to demand a ceasefire. At Peace Day events in numerous cities, people will make statements, protest, vigil, and send letters to officials calling for an end to war.

Opposing militarism. Wars are waged, built, and agitated by militarism and the military industrial complex. Ending war requires opposing militarism. World BEYOND War’s #NoWar2024 Conference focuses on resisting the US military empire. The Global Week of Action for Peace and Climate Justice (Sept 21-28) is making the connection between war and environmental destruction. The No Money For Nukes Week of Action (Sept 16-22) with International Campaign To Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN) and Warheads to Windmills is pressuring banks to stop financing nukes. In Tucson, AZ, the No Money For Nukes Demonstration puts the spotlight on Raytheon’s manufacturing.

With all of my heart I believe each of us have the spark of the Divine, God’s image within us, and our task in life is to strive to bring that image to the forefront of our lives, and at the heart of our hearts is nonviolence, peace, and care for all of creation. As Fr. Henri Nouwen once said:

“We have been chosen to make our pure limited, conditioned love the gateway for the unlimited and unconditional love of God!

====================================

May the work of

“figuring people out”

Never replace the work of knowing people

And loving people

And giving them room

To confound

And inspire

And surprise me

---------------------------------------------------------

30th Anniversary Celebration

Victor’s Pizza

6 p.m.

November 9, 2024

WE ARE BEGGARS! WE REALLY NEED MONEY--Really Badly At the moment!

FOR FOOD, SOCKS, HARM REDUCTION AND OTHER SERVICES!

P.O. Box 642656

415-305-2124

[email protected]

pay pal

www.temenos.org

(Temenos and Dr. River seek to remain accessible to everyone. We do not endorse particular causes, political parties, or candidates, or take part in public controversies, whether religious, political or social--Our pastoral ministry is to everyone!

Temenos Catholic Worker

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

Dr. River Damien Carlos Sims, D.Min, D.S.T.

#homeless #spirituality #povertyy #youth #homelessness #lgbtq;

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