#source: neighborhood patrol

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (9 - The Sokovian Witch)

Chapter Summary: It's Halloween, and Wanda provides just enough distraction to make you forget the incident of crossing the Hex's barrier, but it inadvertently leads you back to the same spot as a Night Patroler, determined to keep your family safe. Meanwhile, Monica and Jimmy must face the consequences of their defiance. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.2k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: Happy New Year! One more chapter to go, and we'll see what really led Y/N to Westview :) and yeahhhh totally forgot to queue this for last night lol // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Isn't this beautiful?”

You're walking hand in hand with Wanda through a sunlit meadow. Wildflowers stretch out in every direction, and the sky's the bluest you've ever seen. Everything feels perfect. Wanda turns to you, her eyes reflecting the clear sky, and smiles.

You squeeze her hand a little tighter. “It is. But not as beautiful as you.”

She laughs lightly, the most melodic sound in your ear. Being with her like this, you can't imagine wanting anything more. She's not just the light of your life; she's the reason you exist. 

As you walk, you notice how the sunlight seems to glow a little brighter around her, as if she's the source of it. The thought crosses your mind that maybe she is—that without her, none of this would exist. It's a strange idea, but it feels true somehow.

But then the sky begins to darken. The colors start bleeding out, and a chill creeps into the air. Wanda’s hand in yours starts to crumble, grains of sand slipping through your fingers.

“W-Wanda?” You try to hold on, but she's disintegrating, pieces of her caught in a wind you can't feel.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, eyes full of something like fear. You reach out to touch her cheek, but your hand passes through her like smoke. 

“Don't go,” you say, but she's already gone.

You're alone in a field that stretches forever, under a sky that's the color of nothing.

“Mom!”

The sound pulls you back. Your eyes snap open to see Billy and Tommy bouncing at the foot of your bed, both dressed in their Halloween costumes. One's a pint-sized wizard, the other's a little speedster.

“Finally! We thought you'd sleep all day,” Tommy says.

You rub your face, trying to shake off the dream. Heart pounding like you've run a marathon. 

“What time is it?”

“Time to get candy!” Billy grins, eyes bright.

“Right,” you say. “Halloween.”

As you make your way downstairs, the warm smell of pancakes and cinnamon greets you. Wanda is in the kitchen, humming softly as she waits for the toasts to be ready. She looks over her shoulder and gives you that radiant smile. 

The same exact one in your dream.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning,” you mumble in reply, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You watch her for a moment, taking in the way the morning light catches her hair. She's so effortlessly beautiful, and for a second, you forget about your dream.

“Kids are excited,” Wanda says, setting a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the table.

“Yeah,” you mumble distantly.

“Everything okay?”

“Just a weird dream,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s too bitter, but you don’t mind. You need something strong to wake you up more fully.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head.

Wanda watches you for a moment longer, but you’re too dazed to notice. She’ll accept your silence in the meantime. “Breakfast is ready,” she says, moving on. 

As you all sit down, the conversation revolves around candy and costumes. You cut the sides off your sandwich, while the boys do most of the talking. Wanda laughs along with them, and you’re there but not there.

After breakfast, the twins don't waste any time heading out to compare notes with other kids in the neighborhood. You start clearing plates. Wanda comes up beside you.

“You're quiet today,” she says.

“Just tired,” you tell her, before wincing at your sorry excuse. Tired at eight in the morning? You could do better than that.

She touches your arm. “You sure that's all?”

The contact coerces you to consider it—consider telling her everything. How she disappeared in your dream. How it felt like losing the only thing that matters. How sometimes it feels like she's the center of everything, like without her, you'd just stop existing.

But you don't.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I'm good.”

She doesn't look entirely convinced but nods anyway. “Okay. Let me know if you want to talk.”

You watch the boys through the kitchen window. They're tearing around the yard, laughing like nothing else in the world matters. You want to keep it that way. Make this Halloween one they'll never forget.

“Do I really have to change into a costume?” you ask, glancing over at Wanda.

She giggles, pinching your cheek. “We talked about this, honey.”

“Now?”

“It’s a whole day's event, you know that.”

You groan, make a big show of it, drying your hands on the towel. “Fine, but only because it's for the kids.”

“I'll be right there with you! Make sure you wear everything—cape and all!” Wanda calls after you as you head upstairs.

Your footsteps fade up the stairs. The moment you're out of earshot, Wanda's smile falls. She grips the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white.

Last night was too close. You almost broke through. Beyond the boundary, your body started to come apart, unraveling like a loose thread pulled too hard.

She can't let that happen again.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Red energy crackles at her fingertips, as she tries to keep herself calm and in control. The nightmare she slipped into your mind should be enough. Enough to keep you from remembering. Enough to keep you here.

“Mom!” Billy's voice shakes her out of her thoughts. “Are you coming?”

“Be right there!” she calls, forcing brightness into her tone.

She takes a deep breath, wipes any trace of worry from her face. By the time you come back down, awkwardly adjusting the cape around your shoulders, she's composed again.

“You look amazing,” she says, her eyes warm but hiding so much.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, fiddling with the costume. “Let's get this over with.”

For now, the day ahead seems promising. Everything has to stay perfect. 

She won't let it be any other way.

—

Agnes stares out her window, eyes following the charade playing out on the street. Kids in costumes wander by, the whole neighborhood stuck in a loop of synthetic joy. She drums her fingers on the windowsill, impatience eating at her.

Messing with things from the shadows was entertaining at first. A glitch here, a nudge there—watching Wanda, supposedly the most powerful witch she'd ever met, none the wiser. For someone twisting reality itself, Wanda's awfully oblivious and somewhat naive. 

Agnes snorts to herself. All those years buried in the Darkhold, chasing after scraps of forbidden knowledge, and she never touched this level of power—actual reality manipulation. Near-perfect autonomy. It's like Wanda's playing god without reading the instruction manual.

But the novelty is wearing thin.

She needs to find out how exactly Wanda is doing all of this and tap into the source of her power. Maybe even claim it for herself. The thought sends a thrill through her veins. But first, she has to get Wanda alone, away from the distractions of her playground.

And so, a plan starts to form.

It shouldn't be too hard. She knows how to play the nosy neighbor, the concerned friend. It's worked before.

Agnes steps back from the window, a sly grin creeping across her face. She grabs a plate of warm cookies—props help sell the part—and heads for the door.

“Time to drop in on dear Wanda,” she mutters.

Tonight, she’ll make her move.

—

Back at the base, the wind knives across Monica’s face as she walks toward the Command Center. Ever since the incident, things have been... quiet (especially without Darcy’s chatter every minute). Not calm—it’s never calm given the situation—but it’s like everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for the next explosion. Monica knows that if Hayward chose to back down, they'd all be scrambling for cover in no time.

Jimmy walks beside her, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “It’s like a ghost town in here,” he mutters under his breath.

Monica gives a curt nod. “Hayward's up to something. I can feel it.”

At the checkpoint, two guards block their way. Stern faces, their hands near holsters.

“Agent Rambeau, Agent Woo, Director Hayward wants a word,” one says.

Monica arches an eyebrow. “Funny, I was just looking for him.”

The agents don’t smile, don’t offer even the hint of small talk. Instead, they turn sharply, motioning for Monica and Jimmy to follow. Inside, Hayward stands at the center of the room, assessing the damaged drone Wanda threw at his feet. He turns as they enter, offering a tight-lipped smile.

“Monica, Agent Woo. Glad you could join us,” Hayward says.

Monica crosses her arms. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” he replies smoothly, nodding to the guards. They take a precise step back, but they remain close——close enough to remind Monica and Jimmy they aren’t free to move as they please. 

Hayward clasps his hands behind his back, his expression pulled tight with feigned regret. “Effective immediately, you’re being removed from this operation.”

Monica’s brows knit together. “Excuse me?”

“You're off this case,” he states flatly. “And you can take the FBI with you,” he adds, his eyes darting to Jimmy, dismissing him with a glance. “The FBI has no jurisdiction here. This is a S.W.O.R.D. matter.”

“With all due respect, Director Hayward, the safety of American citizens is our jurisdiction. And last I checked, this entire situation is happening on American soil.” Jimmy says. 

“Not when it involves phenomena like this one. This is above your clearance level.”

“Whatever you're planning,” Monica starts, “you can't outgun Wanda. Antagonizing her is only going to make things worse.”

Hayward shrugs, casual in the face of her warning. “We’ve assessed the risks.”

“Have you?” Monica challenges, stepping closer. The agents around her follow, startling Monica, though manages to keep her composure. “None of know what will happen if Wanda dies or loses control.”

But her words bounce off him like rain against steel. “You're becoming an impediment to this mission,” Hayward continues,“constantly advocating on behalf of super-powered individuals.”

“I’m advocating for a solution that doesn’t leave a body count in its wake!” She fires back. “If Wanda is our problem, she has to be our solution.”

Hayward lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes glinting with something almost cruel. “This isn’t about peaceful resolutions, Monica. This is about neutralizing a threat.”

“Your fear is clouding your judgment—”

Hayward’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Careful, Captain Rambeau. Your history with Carol Danvers is well-known. Your affinities—”

“Leave her out of this.”

Hayward tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, clearly savoring her reaction. “You’ve always had a soft spot for the enhanced. But the world doesn’t run on goodwill and second chances, Monica. Sometimes, things need to be burned down to be rebuilt.”

“Director, ignoring Monica’s insight is a mistake. She’s the only one who’s managed to make any connection with Wanda inside the Hex,” Jimmy explains in a placating manner. 

Monica shoots Jimmy a sharp glare, irritation flashing in her eyes. She hates the way he’s playing the good cop, even if she knows it’s probably the right move. What she wants is to tear Hayward apart, drag him in front of a tribunal, and make him answer for every reckless decision he’s made.

Hayward looks at Jimmy with a bored expression. “And look where that got us. An agent compromised. A situation spiraling out of control.”

“You’re not listening!” Monica yells, fists clenched tight at her sides. “We have a chance to fix this—without more people getting hurt.”

“Enough.” 

Hayward's voice drops, cold and final. He signals to the guards flanking the room. 

“Arrest them.”

Monica instinctively takes a step back. “What?”

“You heard me.” His stare doesn't waver. “You're both under arrest for insubordination and obstructing a tactical operation.”

Jimmy’s hand twitches at his side, inching toward his belt. The guards move forward, guns raised—not aimed, but ready. He scoffs in disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

“Oh, I'm dead serious.” Hayward's smile is a thin blade. “Hand over your devices.”

Monica’s eyes dart to Jimmy. They’re cornered, outnumbered, and every exit is covered. Resistance will only make things worse. Slowly, they remove their communication gear—phones, earpieces, anything that connects them to the outside world—and place them on the table.

“You're making a dangerous mistake,” she warns Hayward, but looking at all of them in the room.

“The only danger is letting you interfere any longer,” he replies, and then turns to his men. “Lock them up. They'll stay secured until the anomaly is resolved.”

The guards close in, securing their wrists with zip ties.

“This isn't over,” Monica asserts as they're led toward the door.

Hayward smirks as he finally reveals his true colors—so far removed from the man she’d known five years ago. For the first time, Monica realizes how completely she'd misjudged him. 

“For you, it is.”

—

Halloween—the one time of year that feels like pure magic, even if the other celebrations are a little hazy in your memory. The town square's a carnival of fake cobwebs and carved pumpkins, strings of orange lights draped between lampposts, jack-o'-lanterns grinning from every doorstep. 

You’re standing beside your wife, who’s dressed as a Sokovian witch—though you’re pretty sure real Sokovian witches didn’t dress like that. Not that you’re complaining. Honestly, you’re just glad the other guys in town seem distracted because you haven’t been able to stop staring since she slipped into that costume.

Billy and Tommy are off to the races, dashing back to doors they’ve already knocked on, hoping for extra candy. They compare their haul with other kids in costumes, trading them like astute business men.

Watching your family, the nightmare from last night becomes a little less real. 

“Hey there, neighbor!” Agnes materializes out of the crowd, wearing that smile of hers—one that, admittedly, is starting to creep you out. She's decked out in a witch costume, pointy hat and all. How original.

“Agnes,” you say, forcing a polite smile.

“Wanda, darling! Love the costume,” she gushes, then turns her attention to you. “We're a bit short-handed for the Halloween patrol tonight. Too many tricksters, not enough treaters, you know?” She throws you one of her signature, overly exaggerated winks. “Think you could lend a hand?”

Wanda's smile falters. “Oh, I don't think—”

“Sure,” you cut in. “Happy to help.”

Wanda looks at you, partly annoyed that you’re about to ditch her out of nowhere. “Are you sure? We were going to take the boys to the haunted hayride.”

You shrug, ignoring the nagging sense that this might lead to an argument later. “It won’t take long. Besides, better safe than sorry, right?”

Agnes beams, evidently pleased. “Fantastic! Meet us by the gazebo in ten minutes.” With that, she vanishes into the crowd as quickly as she appeared.

Once Agnes is gone, Wanda turns to you, her hands on her hips. “What's that about?”

“I just feel like... it'd be good to keep an eye on things. Make sure everyone stays safe.”

It’s a weak excuse, and you know it. Wanda knows it too. But you’re too desperate for a moment alone to clear your head.

Wanda watches you closely—suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”

“Just thought I could help out. It's a big night. Lots of kids running around.”

She reaches for your hand. “You know you can tell me if something's bothering you.”

“I'm fine,” you say, mustering a smile that wobbles at the edges but manages to settle just in time. “Really.”

“Alright,” Wanda sighs. “Just be careful.”

“Always,” you say, turning away before the doubt in her eyes anchors you.

At the gazebo, a motley crew assembles—neighbors you recognize but don't really know. Agnes flits around, assigning everyone in pairs despite some groans and protests.

Agatha eventually reaches for your arm and starts dragging you to someone. “You're with... her!” she declares, practically pushing you towards a woman adjusting a pair of oversized glasses. Agnes leans in and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve seen her around before, but I think you can handle a complete stranger, am I right?”

You're puzzled why Agnes thinks you're the best choice to pair with a newcomer, but you can't complain. It's the perfect cover to snoop around without Wanda wondering where you are.

“Hey, I’m Jane,” your newly-assigned partner says, offering a gloved hand. “Looks like we're stuck with each other for tonight.”

“I’m Y/N,” You shake her hand, a sense of déjà vu washing over you. “Have we met before?”

“I don't think so. I'm new in town.”

“Oh? Well, welcome to Westview.”

“Thanks! Happy to be here,” she says brightly. “So, where should we start our patrol?”

You glance around, considering. “Maybe we should stick to Main Street? That's where most of the activity is.”

She leans in conspiratorially. “How about we head to the southern boundary instead?”

You raise an eyebrow. “The southern boundary? That's pretty far from all the festivities.”

She shrugs with a grin. “Exactly! The perfect spot for mischief-makers to hide. We wouldn't want any trouble brewing unnoticed, right?”

Her suggestion is oddly specific, but you can't fault the logic. “Alright, southern boundary it is.”

—

“Been in town long?”

Jane sits beside you in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio that's only picking up static and oldies. She hums along to a tune you've never heard. Despite your repeated reminders, she hasn't buckled up. Instead, she's sitting casually with one foot on the seat, as if you two have been driving together like this forever.

She turns to you with a half-smile. “Just moved in yesterday.”

“From where?”

She freezes, hand hovering over the radio dial. The silence stretches uncomfortably. It's like watching a video buffer, stuck in that endless loading circle.

“From... another town,” she finally says, the words feeling rehearsed.

You glance at her. “Which town?”

She blinks rapidly, as if rebooting. “Just a small place nearby,” she says, a little too quickly.

The conversation stalls. As you drive, the houses grow sparser, streetlights fewer and farther between. You feel like you've been here before—in a distant dream. You're starting to question whether joining this patrol was the right choice instead of enjoying the night with Wanda and the kids. Actually, it's not doubt but a strange dread you're feeling now, like this is the last place you should be or there will be dire consequences.

“You sure we haven't met before?”

She gives you a non-committal look. “Pretty sure. Why do you ask?”

“It just feels like I’ve seen you before,” you say, “and like I’ve driven down this road, but I can’t remember when…”

She chuckles softly. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

“Maybe.”

Suddenly, a figure darts across the road.

“Watch out!” Jane yells.

You slam on the brakes. The tires screech. Jane lurches forward, her head smacking against the dashboard.

“Shit! Are you okay?” You reach over, but she pulls back, touching her forehead where a thin line of blood appears.

She sits back, eyes unfocused. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “Oh my God.”

“Let me see,” you say, but she seems more rattled by the second.

She turns to you abruptly, eyes wide with recognition. “It's you!”

“M-Me?” You're baffled.

“You’re Y/N!” She screams.

You back off a little. She's starting to act crazy, and you're preparing to bail if she turns out to be dangerous or violent. “Uh, yes. I told you my name earlier,” you say.

She shakes her head slowly. “No, I mean... you're Y/N!”

“That's what I said.” You frown. “Are you sure you're okay?”

She takes a shaky breath. “Sorry, yes. I'm not Jane. My name is Darcy Lewis, and boy, do I have something to tell you.”

[workersolidarity]

🇵🇸⚔️🇮🇱 🚨

AL-QASSAM BRIGADES TARGET INVADING ZIONIST SOLDIERS ON THE FRONTLINES OF RAFAH

📹 Scenes from the Mujahideen of the Al-Qassam Brigades, belonging to the Hamas resistance movement, target enemy forces invading east of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

In the first scenes, Al-Qassam lays a trap for Zionist soldiers entering a building in neighborhoods east of Rafah before detonating an anti-personnel, improvised explosive device (IED), killing 6 Israeli soldiers and wounding others.

Following that, two Zionist soldiers operating an Israeli Merkava tank patrols the neighborhood before being targeted by an RPG shell.

In the final scene, a second Merkava tank is targeted and destroyed by the RPG shell of an Al-Qassam militant.

#source

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[r--c]

Rafael Horacio Moreno

Rafael Horacio Moreno, a 74-year-old former officer of the Argentine Federal Police, remains in custody accused of the crime of "homicide aggravated by the use of a firearm." His house is under police guard, because they fear a new reaction from the victim's family. Legitimate defense, violent emotion or accident, the three scenarios that could benefit him.

According to sources involved in the case, the courts will have to assess whether there was self-defense or whether the aggressor – a former officer of the Argentine Federal Police – acted in a state of violent emotion, two mitigating factors that could reduce the sentence.

In his statement, the accused did not give any signs of such conduct, but rather put forward the theory of an accidental shot : “It went off,” he tried to explain about the moment in which he pulled the trigger and killed Sergio David Díaz , the 40-year-old bus driver who was yelling at him because he had taken out a firearm when he went to demand that they turn down the music because he couldn't sleep.  

Moreno's version does not match the video that recorded the entire sequence of the incident between the neighbors. The images show how the ex-policeman hammers the weapon and points it at the bus driver's abdomen when the latter was yelling at him and attacking him to get him to leave. 

“What are you doing here? Who do you think you are?” the victim told the former officer. At that moment, the argument became more violent and ended when Moreno shot the driver, who immediately began to scream in pain.

Moreno testified on Thursday before the prosecutor of La Matanza, Matías Folino. He expressed regret for having gone out into the street with his .38 caliber revolver. “I don’t know why I grabbed the gun,” he lamented. 

Following the investigation, the judicial officer asked the judge of guarantees Agustín Pablo Gossn to prosecute the former police officer with preventive detention for “homicide aggravated by the use of a firearm.” 

In the next few hours, the courts will have to decide whether to grant him house arrest and whether to keep him at home, taking into account the problems with his neighbours.

This Thursday, several of the victim's relatives threw stones  tried to force their way into the former police officer's house, where Liliana, his wife, was, and prevented an ambulance from arriving to assist her in the midst of a nervous breakdown. Yesterday, the situation in the neighborhood was a little calmer, although a police patrol from the Buenos Aires province guarded the house to avoid new incidents.

“There were seven of us, all adults, and me, who am the owner of the house. We want justice, he came with the gun in his waistband. And we are afraid that they will release him because he is a police officer and he will come back here. We are unprotected,” said Karina, the cousin of the murdered man. 

“The wife watched as her husband shot Sergio and then said that he deserved it, that what her husband did was okay. We expected her to come and apologize, but for her, what her husband did is okay,” he continued.

"He fired the shot as if nothing had happened, he just stood there watching, turned around and went home. I feel devastated, we want justice to be done and for it not to go unpunished," the woman concluded.

[deadpresidents]

Road Trip

On November 8, 1960, millions of Americans went to the polls in what would become one of the closest Presidential elections in American History:  John Fitzgerald Kennedy versus Richard Milhous Nixon.

That morning, Kennedy voted in Boston and Nixon voted in Whittier, California.  The candidates had spent months canvassing the nation, working to get every last vote – and every last vote was needed.  For the past several weeks, Kennedy and Nixon had criss-crossed the country, debated one another, and been working non-stop to be elected the 35th President of the United States.

After they voted that day, there were results to monitor, precincts to watch, election day problems to take care of, and many other things to worry about.  Imagine being on the cusp of the Presidency – with a 50/50 chance of being elected the next President of a superpower in the grip of the Cold War, with the threat of Communism and nuclear weapons hanging over your head, and the hopes of hundreds of millions of people pinned on either your victory or defeat.  Imagine being in the position of John F. Kennedy or Richard Nixon on November 8, 1960.  What would you do? 

John F. Kennedy put the control of his campaign in the hands of his younger brother, Bobby, and then took a nap.

And Richard Nixon took a road trip to Mexico.

Once Nixon voted that morning at a private home in a quiet Whittier neighborhood, he had been scheduled to head to the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles (where Bobby Kennedy would be assassinated eight years later) for the Election Day vigil and the long wait for the returns which would indicate whether he would be moving into the White House or facing an early retirement. 

Nixon was finished voting by 8:00 AM and hopped into his black Cadillac limousine to be driven to the Ambassador.  Several blocks away from the polling place, Nixon ordered the limousine to stop.  Along with a military aide and a Secret Service agent, Nixon jumped out of the limo and into a white convertible follow-up car driven by an officer from the Los Angeles Police Department.  Nixon took the LAPD officer’s place, got behind the wheel and ditched the press which had been following him.

Driving to La Habra, California, Nixon made a quick visit with his mother, making sure she had voted for her son in the Presidential election.  Nixon drove south along the Pacific Coast Highway, with no specific destination.  He stopped for gasoline in Oceanside and told a gas station attendant – startled to see the Vice President of the United States on a joyride on the very day that he stood for election as President – “I’m just out for a little ride."  Nixon confided that it was his only source of relaxation.

As the group of four men, with Nixon in the driver’s seat, reached San Diego – over two hours away from Nixon’s campaign headquarters at L.A.’s Ambassador Hotel – Nixon pointed out that he hadn’t been to Tijuana in at least 25 years.

As David Pietrusza wrote in his recap of Nixon’s road trip, "Richard Nixon – the ultimate control freak – was winging it on the most important day of his life."  Not only that, but the sitting Vice President of the United States and the man who many Americans were choosing to become the next President, impulsively decided to leave the entire country while those voters were still at the polls.

In Tijuana, Nixon and his party headed to a restaurant called Old Heidelberg.  Despite the fact it was owned by a German, Border Patrol agents told Nixon that it was the best place in Tijuana for Mexican food.  Joined at the last moment by Tijuana’s Mayor, Xicotencati Leyva Aleman, Nixon, his military aide, a Secret Service agent, and an average LAPD officer ate enchiladas in Mexico while John F. Kennedy took a nap in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts.

When Nixon’s press secretary Herb Klein was asked about the missing candidate, he had to tell reporters that Nixon often took some private moments on hectic days such as Election Day.  Really, though, Klein had no clue where Nixon was, eventually admitting that the Vice President was "driving around without any destination”. 

After lunch in Tijuana, Nixon and his companions headed back north towards the United States border crossing.  The LAPD officer took over driving duties as Nixon sat in the convertible’s passenger seat.  A shocked Border Patrol guard shook hands with the Vice President and asked the man who was currently on the ballot for the Presidency, “Are you all citizens of the United States?”.

Nixon and company drove to the Mission of San Juan Capistrano, which Nixon called “one of my favorite Catholic places” on the day he faced the first successful Catholic candidate for the Presidency in American History.  Nixon took his three companions on a quick, informal tour of the Mission.  “For a few minutes, we sat in the empty pews for an interlude of complete escape,” Nixon later recalled.

The missing candidate and his three road trip buddies arrived back in Los Angeles before the election results started rolling in.  Nixon had to explain his trip to reporters who had been searching for him all day.  “It wasn’t planned.  We just started driving and that’s where we wound up.”

In his Memoirs, Nixon didn’t go too far into explaining why he escaped on Election Day, but a paragraph about that day is pretty illuminating:

“After one last frenetic week, it was over.  Since the convention in August I had traveled over 65,000 miles and visited all fifty states.  I had made 180 scheduled speeches and delivered scores of impromptu talks and informal press conferences.  There was nothing more I could have done.”

Except escape to Mexico while JFK slept.

[spiderculechronicals]

Hehehe... Deadpool is a little bit protective of his Baby Boy since he tracked him down to another universe. Peter 3 is patient with him about it.

____

“Hey, Pookie, do you wanna go for a little swing around the neighborhood? Check out the crimes?” Wade asked, “I was gonna suit up and do a little patrolling. Whatcha think?”

“Oh! … yeah, actually. I could use a good stretch and some air… mind if we um… do our own thing and then meet up later? Where’s a good spot?”

Wade smiled, “Uh, how about our old meet-up spot? There’s still a building there, it’s the same address. Water tower is on the other side though, kinda trippy.”

“Haha! Perfect.”

“You got enough web fluid?”

“I should have enough for tonight but that is a point, gonna have to source a new supply… uh… probably end up having to switch to whatever Petey uses…”

“… can I airtag you?”

“Whaaat! Wade…”

“You don’t have a phone yet!”

“… you know what, fine. We can pin it… um… chest is probably safest.”

“Butt would be safest, it would just ruin the line of your suit, but okay…”

“Hah…”

“You could get hit in the sternum! But your booty’s got the cushion.”

“I’m not gonna get hit in the sternum…”

“Sounds like something you’d say and then later be all- guess what babe, I got hit in the sternum.”

“Fine. Tag me on the ass.”

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower for Every Secret - Ch 2. Zinnia

PART 2 OF A FLOWER FOR EVERY SECRET.

WORD COUNT: 2248

WARNINGS: Mention of alcohol, Sarah's mother lore, some fluff at the end, Joel is a big softie. 18+ MINORS DNI.

I couldn’t wait for five to come. Tapping at the keyboard on the computer answering emails, answering phone calls and redirecting them to the proper office in the relatively small building. It all seemed so mundane compared to a dinner with the Millers. “Big plans this weekend?” Detective Carrillo mused, and I opened the glass barrier to be able to hear him better.

“Bigger plans than sitting behind this desk, if that’s what you mean.” I smirked up at the officer, “Big plans for your team after I head out?”

Shifts were about to change, night shift significantly more busy than dayshift on Fridays, “The usual. Patrolling gang neighborhoods, probably a small bust or two. Hopefully no big messes to clean up.”

“Hopefully.” I sighed in response, but grimaced at the knowledge of horrors beyond my comprehension just outside the bulletproof glass doors.

The drive home was fairly quick, and I rushed inside to get out of my business casual attire and into a green sundress that fell to my knees. I pulled my french braid out of my hair, leaving big waves that I secured with hairspray before touching up my makeup, adding a little extra blush and a warm-toned pink lipstick. “It’s just steaks.” I said to myself in the bathroom mirror.

I didn’t want to be too early, so I flipped the radio on and set to work on returning Sarah’s favor of making dessert the previous night, baking a quick batch of chocolate chip cookies, setting them on the platter that I needed to return to Joel. By 6:45 I was too anxious to wait any longer and made my way out the front door, slipping into a pair of flats that I had left sitting by the door.

“Going somewhere, Dear?” a kind voice to my left called after me.

I spun on my heel to face the source, Carol. In her front garden beds, gloves on, covered in dirt. “To the Miller’s.” I pointed down to the plate of still-warm cookies and looked to the house directly across the street.

“With sweets?”

“Sarah made me brownies last night, so I’m just returning the platter - and the favor.” I looked down to the paved driveway and kicked a loose rock back into the grass before looking back up at Carol.

She hummed in response, rubbing her hands together to get the excess dirt off of her pink gloves, “Nice night for it.” 

“Yes, it is.” it was still considerably bright out, the sun hardly had begun its descent. But I didn’t let myself correct her, “Supposed to be a nice weekend in general, I reckon.” I added for good measure, not trying to rush the conversation into its finish point.

She nodded, hand on her hip, no doubt leaving a smear of dirt across her overalls; “That’s what the weatherman said this morning, anyway. He’s never quite right, though.” 

“I suppose you’re right, Carol. Weather always has a way of surprising us.”

She gave a polite wave of her hand, as if dismissing the statement altogether. I supposed that signaled the end of the conversation, and I made my way across the street, which had quieted over the last few hours as parents called their children in for meals. As the older families retreated to backyards for beer and card games. No matter how busy the neighborhood seemed, in one breath everything could become so serene.

I knocked on the heavy wooden door of the Miller residence and in no time at all was greeted by who I could only assume to be Tommy, looking much like Joel - but a little shorter, a little slimmer, but the same glint in his eye. “Hi, I’m -”

“I know, you’re here for dinner, come on in, he’s been waiting for ya. I’m Tommy. No need for formalities in the Miller house.”

His home was exactly as I’d pictured. Lived in, loved, but nicely maintained. Photos of Sarah, Tommy and what I assumed to be other relatives and friends littered the walls in all sorts of frames, a big comfy leather sofa centered with the large front window, and a tidy kitchen, all clean lines and neutral tones. Varying shades of beige and blue, broken only with the greens of houseplants and the odd brightly colored things that belonged to Sarah. Her bright pink converse certainly looked out of place next to Joel’s tired steel-toe boots.

“You made it.” Joel smirked as he entered through the sliding glass rear door, a hand towel tossed over his shoulder.

“It was a hard trek from across the street, you wouldn’t believe the terrors I faced on my long journey.” I dramatically sighed, before mirroring his smile, presenting the platter to him. “Cookies.” I stated.

“Cookies?” he repeated with an arch of his eyebrow.

“For, well, everyone, I suppose.”

“Thank you.” he smirked, “But remember when I said I owe you?” he dropped his smile and pointed at me in an accusatory manner, but I could tell from the gleam in his eye it was a facade. 

“I remember that well, Joel.” I started, placing the platter on the countertop, “But I had to bring the plate back, and I wasn’t bringing it back empty, even if Sarah is at her friend’s house.” I recalled the events of last night.

“Let her make cookies if she wants to, I like cookies.” Tommy butted in as he rounded the corner from the living room.

Joel rolled his eyes at his younger brother before retorting, “Nobody cares what you like, Tommy. Nobody except maybe Maria; but even that’s pushing it sometimes, I think.”

I laughed in response, handing Tommy a cookie from the plate, “My own special recipe, guess these are for you.”

“I like your neighbor, Joel.” Tommy pointed to his brother before taking a bite of the still warm confection, disappearing to the backyard, calling for Maria, who I assumed was out in the yard. The smell of cooking meats wafted into the kitchen with the warm breeze.

“Y’look nice.” he stated softly the moment the door shut behind Tommy, and he leaned back against the countertop on his palms.

“I tried real hard.” I matched his tone as I studied his casual attire, plain gray t-shirt stretched across the plains of his shoulders and a simple pair of jeans. Though the admission of me trying to impress him almost made me feel embarrassed enough to stare down at the neat tile flooring that stretched across the kitchen and dining area.

“You don’t have to try. I’ve seen you get the mail in your pajamas.” a wild smirk spread across his cheeks, showing off his dimples.

I tried to stifle my grin, but continued, “You know, Joel, I was almost hoping that it was just gonna be us.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and an eyebrow twitched almost with a question, “That so?”

I nodded, wringing my fingers together nervously, “I had fun with you last night.”

“I did too, Sarah too. She thought you were real nice.”

“She’s a sweet girl.” I nodded in answer, daring a step closer to Joel.

Tommy pulled the sliding door open and looked to Joel before saying in a tone that was almost apologetic, “Hate to break this up, but I know you’ll shoot me if I touch your grill, Joel. You got four steaks waiting to hit the fire right now.”

I hummed in response, following Tommy, who held the door open for me. I didn’t wait for Joel to follow behind, “Then I guess we better get out there.”

A woman was setting out another beer for Tommy from a cooler on the porch, Joel’s lawn was nicely manicured with simple landscaping and a decently sized pool, a nice thing to have to stave off the year round Texas sun. A tall wooden fence caged in his yard, offering privacy from the neighbors to his rear and sides. “Hey! You must be the new neighbor.” Maria greeted me, pulling me into an embrace.

I hugged her back reluctantly, and smiled at her, “And you must be Maria? Heard them talking about how tolerant you are of Tommy in the kitchen.”

“Yes, I’m his wife..” she nodded in confirmation, before holding up a bottle of red wine, “You drink?”

“I do.” I nodded and she didn’t hesitate to offer me an overfilled portion of the wine in a stemmed glass.

Joel wasn’t far behind, toting a stack of plates with utensils on top in his arms. He put them in the center of the table before finding his station at the grill and laying the steaks down gently with a hiss. I tried to look like I wasn’t watching him cook, but his eyes found mine and he broke into an almost shy smile. Maria clocked it almost the moment it happened and she nudged me carefully, “What did you do to Joel?” she nearly whispered.

“What do you mean?” I dropped my tone so as not to let him or Tommy overhear what had obviously just become girl-talk.

“You’ve lived here for two weeks?” she asked.

I nodded, “Only had a real talk with him yesterday, though. Sarah brought brownies over and I let them in for dinner. Just a little small talk before then. His typical Howdy, Neighbor.” I shrugged.

Maria looked from Joel to me and back again just as he looked up from the grill and made a smart remark at Tommy about how dumb a move was in the NBA finals last week, asking if Tommy had seen it too.

I let the talk of basketball fall off my shoulders and focused on Maria and her introductory talk, how she and Tommy had been together nearly ten years, and after seven he had finally proposed. How the Miller brothers could be reckless and silly, but one exhale later back to serious business. How Sarah was the light of Joel’s life, and nobody could seem to hold a candle to her, how nobody ever seemed good enough to be in his circle long-term. Only wanting the best for his daughter. I listened especially hard when the topic of Sarah’s mother fell from Maria’s lips. “They seemed good the whole time. Got married young - too young. Right after highschool. Neither went to college, and then Sarah came along so soon after, he was only 20. Almost as soon as he had time to settle into fatherhood and married life, he woke up to her just… Packed and gone with divorce papers and a note. Never saw her again after deliberations. Her mother didn’t want anything from either of them. The next week Joel started to plan on starting his own company. So he could always have her along, so he could fight for the life his little girl deserves.”

I looked up to Joel, who was smiling with Tommy at his side, and he flipped a perfectly browned steak over to its still-pink side. He looked back at me and the same shy smile made his cheeks dimple, he took a long drink from his beer before turning to look at Tommy again.

Joel plated my meal for me and set it in front of me on the table, he took the seat opposite me, and Tommy the opposite of Maria.

After the sun set and the meal ended he offered to walk me home when I announced I was feeling tired, and he led me through the house, the only lights were soft and warm from a few lamps. “I like your family.” I stated, looking up into his eyes, made hazy by the alcohol.

“I think they like you.”

“Maria and I got along really well.”

He nodded and grabbed a flannel from the rack, slipping it over his shoulders before opening the front door. We both kept a near snail-pace as we descended the porch steps, made our way down the driveway and across the street.

“She told me about Sarah’s mom. Real sorry for that.”

He seemed to stiffen slightly before his shoulders relaxed. “I planned on saying something, but. It’s fine. She’s never known any different than just me and her Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria.”

“You’ve done great with her. Must have been so hard.”

“Hardly slept the first few years. Felt like all I did was fail her. Then I saved enough pennies to buy the house. Was a real fixer upper. My crew was amazing. Tommy was even better. Every spare moment, free of charge, they were in there making it perfect. Not for me. Not for any favor. For her. Everything I do is for that little girl.” he almost choked on his last sentence, but cleared his throat.

A familiar warm feeling I got the night before spread through my chest and stomach as my feet shuffled up the three steps to my door. I only realized we’d been holding hands when his fingers slipped away from mine with the distance I had created. Each of his callouses brushed against my fingertips.

We bid each other goodnight and I disappeared into the darkness of my living room.

The next day, groggy with a dreamless sleep and a cup of tea in my hand a familiar thud of the newspaper smacking the door sent me to retrieve the paper. Next to the paper, on the worn-out wood was a yellow zinnia, perfectly plucked, obviously meant for me to find.

[duskkodesh]

Thoughts on the 2013 Marvel Now Morbius series?. It's probably his most well known book next to maybe his 90s Midnight Sons series.

Okay so when this came out I was thrilled, any attention is good attention and so forth. BUT... after multiple rereadings I can honestly say I don't like it and there's a few reasons for that. For one, the plot is kind of nonsensical. He kills a local crime leader who was under the control of a bigger crime lord who... was in cahoots with Morb's father to...lower property values? It's dumb, it's like soap opera level dumb, convoluted, and I will admit it has nice moments in it! I love him hanging out with a homeless street artist, I like him playing vigilante again, the interactions with Spidey? MMMMMFFFF. Hell, I even love the idea of him adopting a small neighborhood area and patrolling it, but it changed some of his lore for the worse and he had absolutely no agency in his own comic plot. Everything happens around him. He is not the source of conflict in his comic. You could have written this story with literally any Marvel character plopped in and it would have played out similar. It feels like they did not know what to do. Instead of any depth into a man with addiction issues and superhuman problems we get mostly him trying to put out fires. ALL the conflict is from outside Morb except for a couple of 'whoops' moments but even those aren't delved into, they just make another fire to put out and the plot moves on. The art is great, I can even forgive the haircut they gave him and the ugly streetclothes because I could see him doing that, but some of the talk coming out of his mouth feels very much NOT Morbius so I'm full on blaming the writer. As far as the scale of Morbius comics goes 4/10. Read what we got of the 2020 series instead, it's criminal we didn't get the Blade arc of that.

[trivialbob]

I am back home from vacation in Isla Mujeres. Sheila is staying a few more days. We know other visitors on the island. Sheila is hanging out with them this week.

The Island is a 25 minute ferry ride from Cancun. It is about tourism, but not at all like being inside an all-inclusive resort. Many folks we ran into visit Isla for several weeks at a time and stay in small condos or rooms.

(A bit long, with pictures, below the cut)

We rented a two-bedroom place in a small, four-unit building. It was at the north end of the island. That's where many of the American and Canadian visitors stay. But locals live there too. From our roof we could see the family next door, cooking and putting out their laundry to dry. Our door is the blue one in the bottom left picture.

Some US hotels I've been at lately don't offer daily changes of sheets and towels. "For the sake of the environment," ya know. Our modest place in Isla included fresh sheets and towels every day in addition to full room cleaning. It felt luxurious.

More local people live mid-island and to the south end. However, visitors rent places all over the narrow island. A couple we know has the equivalent of a studio apartment mid-island for two months at $600/month. A realtor would call it "Very cozy." I liked it.

That couple has bicycles they store there for when they come back each winter. They also rent a golf cart from time to time to drive around the island, as many visitors do. Some Americans and Canadians purchase places instead of renting. Some beautiful, modern houses dot the island.

One of the first things I did upon arrival was slather myself in SPF 50 sunscreen. My pasty white head and back made the soft, white beach sand look like black pepper in comparison. The sunscreen worked well. I have only one small patch of burned skin where I missed covering a spot on one ankle.

You won't find chain restaurants here. The few banks and gas stations have familiar names, but that's about it for big brands.

Warning signs are few and far between. Servers bring cold beer to the beach, in glass bottles. This was my fourth or fifth visit and Sheila's 12th. We've never seen or heard someone break a bottle. There are no lifeguards at beaches or pools.

When crossing roads, cars, golf carts, and scooters seem to have the right-of-way over pedestrians. Sidewalks are rough and uneven. You learn to be careful and pay attention. At times soldiers and police patrolled the streets with rifles. We felt secure the whole time, even while walking in dimly lit local neighborhoods.

One resort-like place where we hung out at for a few hours has a pool with concrete seats and tables in the water. A server, seeing me cooling off in the water, asked if I'd deliver a glass ashtray to four women sitting at table in the pool.

Smoking isn't allowed inside bars and restaurants, thank God. Unlike the US where that's just understood, there are some No Fumar signs posted in Isla businesses. I bet I didn't see more than a dozen people smoking the whole time I was there.

Touristy stuff is there if you want that. Two streets have vendors hawking t-shirts, magnets, and such. Scuba and fishing trips are available if that's your thing. Golf carts and scooters can be rented. Mainly I eat good food, drink relatively inexpensive drinks and cheap beer, read, and relax. Surprisingly though, I recorded 10,000 or more steps every day.

Many of the older buildings would make an American code inspector twitch with anxiety. Few stairs, even very steep ones, have railings. Nor do all the rooftops. Our place had a railing on top but the buildings next to us did not. A realtor might call those "Unencumbered terraces." I easily could have done one of those cop TV show stunts, jumping from building to building while chasing a perp down the block.

Try tracing these wires. Or finding the source of the water lines. A realtor might say "Plentiful utilities." We did have excellent water pressure, hot and cold. Just don't drink it.

Bathrooms in some bars and restaurants... oh my. An Applebee's is more sanitary, but then you are eating at Applebee's. About ten years ago one of Sheila's friends purchased a toilet seat with her own money and installed it herself in one of the island's bars she liked to frequent. She had developed some nice leg muscles from so much hovering. Life's trade-offs, right?

One bar's women's room has a lot of comments in Sharpie about Mark. Some female out there somewhere DOES NOT LIKE MARK. Apparently a frequent visitor to the island, she documents when bad thoughts of Mark cross her mind. The men's room offered some scribbles both for and against Mark. At our table a group of us sat around trying to come up with the story. It could have a chance at being a Netflix/Hulu movie.

We didn't cook. There are too many local places that are fun and tasty. In some parts of the island you can actually order a meal at someone's house and eat on their patio. I'll have a separate post later about how we hired local guy bring us to seven different places for food one night.

Several times we shared restaurant tables with other visitors, some we knew from previous visits, some total strangers. A couple from New Jersey wanted to sit on the patio at a restaurant Sheila and I like. All three outside tables were occupied. We had empty chairs at ours, so we invited them to join us and had a wonderful evening talking with them. The wife did sound a bit like Carmela Soprano. Her husband, however, did not make me remove my cap. Another restaurant had a cat you could pet during dinner at another place.

In addition to the restaurant cat there were sidewalk dogs. They putter around or relax on the warm pavement. People walk and drive around the dogs. I assure you that white dog in the right picture is just sleeping contentedly. I didn't use a flash, so I wouldn't disturb him. The little one on the left greeted me as I walked along the malecón on my way to a massage.

We played pickle ball while there. The courts were in the middle of an area with few tourists. All the players were Americans. I wonder what the local residents think of the game with the bright, plastic balls that go clink, clink, clink. That's me in the yellow hat (top left picture). The bottom two pictures are what was behind the courts.

I could get used to scooter life. Sheila has one at home, but it's engine is literally six times the size of what these ones here have.

Carnival celebrations began on Friday. Our place overlooked the town square, by the Catholic Church. It was fun to watch the celebration with the loud music and lots of people.

That got long! Enough for now.

[girlactionfigure]

*ISRAEL REALTIME* - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

▪️ISRAEL TO CAPTURE EGYPTIAN BORDER CORRIDOR.. Israel to capture Egyptian - Gaza border, known as the Philadelphia corridor (per Russian sources and Wall Street Journal).

▪️HAMAS THREATENS EGYPT.. “If Israel conquers the Philadelphia corridor, we will conquer Sinai.”  Another Hamas official, “We ask Egypt to take a clear position to reject Israel’s demands to occupy the corridor.”

▪️RUSSIAN UN AMBASSADOR SAYS.. flooding Gaza tunnels could be considered genocide. (???)

▪️ISRAELI EMBASSY SWEDEN ATTACK.. thwarted.

▪️HOSTAGE ISSUE MANAGER.. ’it is absolutely clear that public demonstrations for the hostages HARDENS Hamas’s positions’ (as they know the pressure the Israeli leaders are under).

▪️HERO SOLDIER FALLS.. in battle in Gaza.

🇺🇸Regional War 🗞 2nd attack by US/UK “coalition” on the Houthis over Shabbat, “150 missiles used”.  All Arab gulf states allowed US/UK aircraft to use their airspace, including Saudi Arabia, except for Oman.

Analyst: Opposite Yemen across the Red Sea and the straight is the nation of Djibouti, which has a US base with 4000 US military personnel.  Possible Houthi target that they can reach.

⬇️ Southern Front 🗞 IDF blows up another tunnel complex and collapsing above neighborhood in Deir al-Balach, Gaza.  As IDF captures Al Aqsa hospital, mass fleeing from the compound.  Firefight catches bus on fire.

Rockets shot at Netivot from Gaza during the hillula celebration for the Baba Sali, zt”l.  

Gaza battles in Sheikh Zeytun neighborhood, central Gaza.

⬆️ Northern Front 🗞 In general, more of the same: terror squads attacked, airstrikes on Hezbollah targets.  Anti-tank fire from Lebanon hitting private houses in Israel.  

Terror squad attempts infiltration of IDF Mt. Dov post, firefight, artillery, IDF soldier wounded, 2 terrorists killed, squad flees back to Lebanon.

➡️ Eastern Front (Judea-Samaria) 🗞 Counter-terror operations in Jenin, security forces enter Jenin hospital, forces surrounding and searching ambulances.

Qalqilya, IDF checkpoints set up throughout the city.

Tubas, firefight.

IDF OPERATIONS AGAINST TERRORIST ELEMENTS IN THE GAZA STRIP

In ongoing military operations within the Gaza Strip, the IDF persist in targeting both terrorist operatives and associated infrastructure. Notably, launch pits utilized for firing rockets at Israel have been systematically obliterated by IDF ground forces.

Maghazi Operation:

In Maghazi, IDF troops successfully identified two armed terrorists advancing towards a compound housing the troops. Swiftly responding to this threat, ground forces coordinated with an IDF aircraft, resulting in the precise elimination of the terrorists. This intervention effectively thwarted their attempt to launch an attack against the stationed troops.

Atatra Operation:

Further operations in Atatra led to the discovery and destruction of multiple launch pits employed for launching rockets into Israeli territory. The IDF's strategic efforts in this region have significantly curtailed potential threats emanating from these launch sites.

Khan Yunis Incidents:

In Khan Yunis, IDF forces encountered armed terrorists on two separate occasions. Employing precise coordination, an IDF aircraft was directed to strike and eliminate the identified threats, preventing potential harm to the forces. Additionally, IDF tanks successfully neutralized five terrorists and discovered an underground shaft within the city area.

Ongoing Operations:

The IDF's commitment to security persisted over the past day, with continued operations in Khan Yunis resulting in the elimination of nine terrorists through coordinated efforts involving the Israeli Air Force and ground forces throughout the city.

IDF COUNTERS TERRORIST INFILTRATION FROM LEBANON

Last night, IDF patrolling the Har Dov area successfully identified and engaged a terrorist cell that had crossed from Lebanon into Israeli territory. The IDF responded decisively with live fire, resulting in the neutralization of four terrorists. Concurrently, during the exchange of fire, IDF forces executed targeted artillery and mortar strikes in the area.

[kazutakas-pinch]

Arcane AU

Yuiji

Yuiji is from a well-to-do family that oversaw an airship trade vessel operation in Piltover. They had minimal influence over politics until Jayce introduced the Hexgates. They gained a ton of power and influence out of nowhere and Yuiji was dragged into the family business with more urgency than ever. Before, he was happy doing mundane inventory counts and maintenance checks on the airships. He detests the politics that he has been suddenly exposed to. He's begun running away from home at inopportune times and maybe wandering a little further than he should be.

Yamato

Yamato was originally from Zaun, but his talent in Joltball found him recruited for a Piltovan league. (Idk, Joltball is soccer in Piltover, but imagine tech footwear and a more dimensional field with obstacles) He's constantly ostracized and isolated by his topsider teammates. He's persisting to bring back money for his folks, and he's just hoping to continue with the sport until he can afford to buy a house for his family in a more affordable neighborhood in Piltover and leave the sports league behind. He finds himself hanging out on rooftops and staring at the airships above for a sense of escape.

Hongou

Hongou's family is a very influential family in the world of politics, but he has so many older siblings, that his role in the family hierarchy is fuzzy and unestablished. He often ditches family functions (without much flack) to attend concerts, art installations, and sports events. He's Yuiji's best friend and he's incredibly good at distracting Yuiji when the young scion is supposed to be conducting an airship inspection or drafting an important letter to a trading competitor.

Nacchan

A young Zaunite tinkerer who is apprenticing under a clockmaker. The business is actually doing fairly well since it has drawn a decent amount of customers from the topside. Growing up, she spent a lot of time with Yamato running through the fissures and climbing into abandoned buildings. She built his earliest sets of Joltcleats and more than a few of them short-circuited and starting sparking when they definitely weren't supposed to. Yamato still visits her to get his pocketwatch tuned up. Nacchan always asks Yamato to bring her back Piltovan pastries back when he visits.

Seki

A Joltball player in the same league as Yamato. He's from a well-off family of architects and Joltball is just a hobby for him. When he's not practicing, he's studying to become a politician. He hopes to get to a point where he can be a policymaker and write laws for the good of Piltover. His initial goal was to focus on housing laws, but meeting Yamato (the first Zaunite he's ever talked to) made him start to think things differently. After matches, he began hounding Yamato to take him to get coffee and get dinner. Yamato initially refused, feeling that he was getting targeted for being a trencher (he was), but eventually relented because Seki was so persistent. They eventually became good friends when they got past their first impressions of one another.

Mayu

A young recruit in the enforcers. She got into the force through sheer display of skill, but her higherups still won't give her any major or dangerous assignments due to her age. She's usually plopped into checking tickets for cable cars and other public transport. Sometimes, she's monitoring security for trading goods. She's always terribly bored and upon meeting Hongou who would chat up a storm during her patrols, she became fast friends with her new source of entertainment. She would also soon befriend the young, drowsy-eyed scion who visited the airships for routine inspections.

Sakura

His parents are Zaunite engineers who moved to Piltover before he was born. His whole life, they've tried to assimilate into Piltovan norms and did everything they could to raise Sakura as the model Piltovan citizen. He's exasperated with his parents' obsession with image, but he loves them otherwise and is happy to take up the family business. He's currently working with them to design Joltball fields and arenas. When Yamato joined the League, Sakura's parents were insistent that Sakura not interact with him, but when Sakura noticed how lonely he was, he couldn't help but approach him.

Akiyama

Originally from a Noxian family, Akiyama ran away/was banished (?) (the story changes depending on who you're talking to) to Piltover because the tech and gadgets would be more suitable to a "soft" person like him. Being estranged from his family, Akiyama was happy to start a new life in Piltover and managed to score well enough in the exams to enroll in an engineering university. When he meets a sour-faced kid who barely goes to class and leaves early one day because he "has a job with his parents", Akiyama ditches class too to see what's going on.

[usafphantom2]

Wreckage of the U.S. Marine Corps F-35B jet is found in South Carolina

Service decreed temporary suspension of flights.

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 09/18/2023 - 23:26 in Aeronautical Accidents, Military

U.S. authorities found on Monday a wreckage field of the U.S. Marine Corps (USMC) F-35B poacher that crashed in South Carolina after the pilot safely ejected.

The wreckage field was located in rural Williamsburg County, according to the Charleston Marine Corps Joint Base. The field is about two hours northeast of the base, and residents were asked to avoid the area while the recovery team worked to protect it.

Authorities have been looking for the jet since the pilot, whose name was not disclosed, parachuted safely in a neighborhood of North Charleston around 2 p.m. on Sunday (09/17). He was taken to a hospital, where he was in stable condition, said USMC major Melanie Salinas.

The Marine Corps announced on Monday that it would stop operations for two days after the fall of the fighter - the third expensive accident in recent weeks.

General Eric Smith, interim commander of the Marine Corps, ordered the suspension while authorities were searching near two South Carolina lakes for the missing F-35B Lightning II aircraft.

It is the third event documented as a "Class A accident" in the last six weeks, according to an announcement by the Marine Corps. Such incidents occur when the damage reaches $2.5 million or more, a Department of Defense aircraft is destroyed or someone dies or is permanently incapacitated.

The commanders will pass the suspension reinforcing safe flight policies, practices and procedures with their marines, according to Monday's statement.

141029-M-RH401-078

The announcement did not give details about the two previous incidents. But in August, three U.S. Marines died in the crash of a V-22B Osprey tiltrotora aircraft during a training exercise in Australia, and a U.S. Marine Corps pilot died when his F/A-18D fighter jet crashed near a San Diego base during a training flight.

Based on the location and trajectory of the missing plane, the search focused on Lake Moultrie and Lake Marion, said Senior Sergeant Heather Stanton at Charleston Joint Base. Both lakes are north of North Charleston.

Additional aircraft are researching northwest of the lakes, including a Cessna 182 with the Civil Air Patrol and a King Air 200 from the Department of Defense.

A helicopter from the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division joined the search after bad weather improved in the area, Stanton said. Military officers appealed in online posts on Sunday for any help from the public in locating the aircraft.

The pilot of a second F-35 returned safely to the Charleston Joint Base, Salinas said.

The planes and pilots were part of the Marine Attack Fighter Training Squadron 501 with the 2nd Marine Aircraft Wing based in Beaufort, near the coast of South Carolina.

Source: The Associated Press

Tags: Aeronautical AccidentsMilitary AviationLockheed Martin F-35B Lightning IIUSMC - United States Marine Corps/U.S. Marine Corps

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Daytona Airshow and FIDAE. He has work published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work throughout the world of aviation.

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[queenimmadolla]

to be fair, I don’t think anyone said writing about cops in itself is wrong, HOW a character is portrayed in the source material(or written about in fics) matters, Jim Hopper is a good example - he’s the least cop cop out there. He also breaks the law all the damn time. But it’s the sexualization of police and what they do is. Modern day police has its origins in slave patrol, there’s nothing “not deep” about that. As a black person who grew up in a black neighborhood in Brooklyn and have had less than pleasant interactions with police for doing something as simple as standing around, and have family members unfairly in the system, I take issue with this.

Idk about AUs but the topic I’ve seen come up is around Joe Kerry’s upcoming character who I believe is a cop in the south, who’s religous(father is a priest), and comes from a conservative background. We don’t know anything about what he’s like and some black people/poc are rightfully voicing their hesitance around white people being extremely exciting to write about him and sexualize what he does, with a lot of backlash from white writers. I personally don’t feel safe as a black stranger things/Joe Keery fandom member to voice my view on this not on anon bc I see how the white writers have reacted. But It’s completely fair for poc, esp black fandom members, to feel a certain way or hesitation around it and for white people to consider the implications.

Excellent points, but not quite what I was referring to. My statements are directed towards those speaking on behalf of the POC and black people when they are not involved in those communities to frown upon Cop!AUs when the most they know and have been involved with about police brutalization is what they might see on tiktok and hear from individuals not adversely affected by it. Yes, it is correctly a negative connotation to them but to equate fucking some character in a cop car or being seduced by a character turned cop─who has not been written to have brutalized or done anything fucking wrong btw─for an AU to black people being brutalized by cops and POC facing harassment and discrimination by cops in REAL LIFE is not the hill white people want to die on. If this should be the case every single character with a position of authority that they admire should not be so. This is not only ignorant and offensive, it is very damaging white savior behavior. They wreck an area they're not staying in and we'll have to clean up their mess.

As for Gator, I have already said my piece on him. I'm not writing for him (probably won't actually just because I probably won't have motivation) until I watch the show to confirm he's not racist. Once we get confirmation, I'm fine with it. it's the same thing as any other character, until we see them on screen─they all can potentially be racist. It sucks, that's the struggle we face (because I actually was starting to like Billy and felt like i understood him until they revealed that he was racist last minute, that's the shit we're put through) and I think it's stupid because we don't need to be traumatized in fictional shit since it's so often displayed on our tv screens in the form of news reporting on what we face in REAL LIFE, if we're not already going through it ourselves─which, unlucky me, I have and am.

[r--c]

Payton Gendron

Payton S. Gendron is a white male and was 18 years old at the time of the shooting. He had traveled three and a half hours to the supermarket from his hometown of Conklin, New York, about 200 miles (320 km) away. -  Gendron graduated from Susquehanna Valley High School and was previously enrolled at SUNY Broome Community College in Binghamton for an engineering science program. His parents are civil engineers and, according to his neighbors, Gendron had previously stated an intention to become one as well. - Former classmates of Gendron who were interviewed by The New York Times claimed that Gendron was quiet, had rarely attended in-person classes, and exhibited a range of idiosyncratic behaviors, including wearing a hazmat suit to class. - Gendron is reported to have written a manifesto describing himself as an ethno-nationalist and a supporter of white supremacy who is motivated to commit acts of political violence. He voiced support for the far-right "Great Replacement" conspiracy theory in the context of a "white genocide".

Payton Gendron, livestreamed part of the attack on Twitch under the alias jimboboiii, but the livestream was shut down by the service in under two minutes. Gendron was taken into custody and charged with first-degree murder. He formally entered a plea of "not guilty" on May 19, 2022. On November 28, 2022, Gendron pleaded guilty to all state charges in the shooting, including murder, domestic terrorism, and hate crimes. On February 15, 2023, Gendron was sentenced to 11 concurrent life sentences without the possibility of parole; as of that date, federal charges are still ongoing, and the federal prosecution also expressed their intention to seek the death penalty.

At around 2:30 p.m, Payton arrived at the Tops supermarket on Jefferson Avenue, in a predominantly Black neighborhood in Buffalo, New York. He was armed with a Bushmaster XM-15 AR-15–style rifle, illegally modified to accept high-capacity magazines, and multiple 30-round ammunition magazines. In his car, he had a Savage Arms Axis XP hunting rifle and a Mossberg 500 shotgun. He was wearing body armor, a military helmet, and a head-mounted camera, through which he livestreamed the attack on the online service Twitch. As he approached the scene, he was recorded on his livestream saying "just got to go for it".

Gendron first shot four people in the parking lot, killing three. He then entered the store, shooting eight more people and killing six. At 2:31 p.m, Buffalo police received a call reporting shots fired at the store. The first responding officers and firefighters arrived a minute later and reported bodies lying outside the building. At 2:34 p.m, a dispatcher started informing responding officers of an active shooter situation at the store.

According to a law enforcement source, Gendron yelled racial slurs during the incident. Many employees and customers used the store's break room to hide from Gendron and barricaded the door with a heavy desk. Other customers were hidden by employees in the milk cooler and said Gendron shot through the coolers, but the milk cartons stopped the bullets. At some point, an armed security guard, former Buffalo Police Department officer Aaron Salter Jr., shot at him. Due to Gendron's body armor, Salter's bullet did not stop him. Gendron returned fire at Salter, who died at the scene. At another point, he aimed his gun at a white person behind a checkout counter, but he apologized and did not shoot.

By 2:36 p.m., Gendron had gone to the front of the building, where patrol officers were able to talk him into dropping his gun after he reportedly aimed it at his neck. A total of 60 shots were fired during the shooting. After his arrest, Gendron made disturbing statements regarding his motive and state of mind.

[blackcultureis]

How do the systems instituted by slavery impact African-Americans today?

Disclaimer: This post specifically focuses on the United States of America.

In order to answer the question of how slavery still impacts African-Americans, we need to consider the social structure, institutions, and circumstances that slavery created.

One important thing to know about colonial slavery is that slaves had no social standing. They were not seen as human by white people or the law. "Science" would back the assertion that Africans were subhuman (which still affects our medical system today). Slaves were legally beaten, raped, bought, sold, and tortured. After slavery, the majority of southerners attitudes towards black people did not change, which is evidenced by the black codes put in place during the reconstruction era. These laws were created to reproduce the system of slavery even after it was abolished.

Black codes restricted the freedom of African Americans so that they would be forced to continue working on plantations even after they were free. They were not allowed to leave their cities, or their plantation due to trespassing laws specifically instituted for that purpose, they couldn't hunt, or be unemployed, or "loiter," or else they would be put in jail. Some black codes also forced former slaves to refer to their employers as "master," or even allowed employers to whip the slaves. Already, you can see how the justice and law systems were used to keep Black people enslaved. Later on, Black codes became less used, and instead there was Jim Crow laws. These laws kept Black people in separate neighborhoods, usually poor ("ghetto") neighborhoods. They kept them in separate schools, usually poor schools. There were repercussions to being caught in a white neighborhood. Ever heard of a sundown town? Those still exist.

There is one famous institution that started with slavery that still exists to this day, and that's the police. But back then, they weren't called police. They were called slave patrols. In the south, police forces were created with the intention of preserving slavery. When you take that in context with what happens with police today, a lot of things start making sense.

So, you may be thinking, well, it's 2023. Slavery is over, segregation is over, everything is fine, right? Well, no. Even after Jim Crow ended, black people were in the same place they were before. The same poor neighborhoods, the same jobs, and the same schools. And because the social structure first created by slavery, and later Jim Crow, was the same, it was very hard for African-Americans to change their circumstances. And when they did try, it was often met with repercussions. For example, once schools were integrated, a group of nine students, famously known as The Little Rock Nine, were at the forefront of integration efforts. I won't get into all the details of the routine abuse they faced. If you read the linked article, though, you'll learn that one girl was not only beaten, but even had acid thrown in her face. Black people that moved to previously all white neighborhoods were targets of hate crimes. It has gotten better, but make no mistake: racism is still alive and well in America.

When Black people talk about disproportionate way poverty affects us in the United States, or the high rate at which the police kill us, or poor education, or the lack of opportunities, or the unfair treatment we face in the legal and medical systems, it doesn't come from nowhere. We are not "playing the victim." Remember, segregation ended in 1964. Joe Biden, the current president of the United States, was born in 1942. Segregation did not end until he was twenty-two years old. It was not that long ago. It affects us to this day.

Below the cut, there are sources for all the information in this post, and some extra stuff too. I implore you to do your own research.

Chattel Slavery and the dehumanization of slaves:

Theme-One-Background-Info-1.pdf (njsbf.org)

The Horrible Torture and Dehumanization of Slaves in Plantations | The African Exponent.

On Black Codes and Jim Crow:

How the Black Codes Limited African American Progress After the Civil War - HISTORY

Black code | Laws, History, & Examples | Britannica

Black Codes (article) | Reconstruction | Khan Academy

The Black Codes and Jim Crow Laws (nationalgeographic.org)

Black Codes - Definition, Dates & Jim Crow Laws - HISTORY

How America was built on slavery:

How America was built on slavery: Those roots can still be felt today | ASU News

The Police:

The History of Police in America and the First Force | Time

Trespassing laws:

What Lies Behind That ‘No Trespass’ Sign - The Atlantic

Sundown town:

Sundown town | Meaning & History | Britannica

[kakusu-shipping]

mafia AU for koro-sensei👀

mafia AU: who is the ruthless leader? who is their loyal second in command? give one headcanon about you and your f/o’s relationship in this AU!

-@i-put-the-s4p-in-s4pphic

Tecnecally I think it'd be Yakuza sense we're in Japan... but also old school Mafia aesthetic my beloved <3

These designs were the most fun I've done thus far, ESPECIALLY Koro-Sensei. Maybe I should draw him in pants more often...

Koro-Sensei - The boss, currently the most wanted man in Japan. Recently though he lost someone very important to him and, in attempting to carry out her final wishes, is attempting to make amends. Now his gang is basically a non-profit. They clean up garbage off the streets, plant flowers in public gardens, help people carry their groceries home, play vigilante at night in areas with low police density, and are all and all upright citizens when you ignore all the crimes of the past. The scar over his eye is fake, he draws it on himself every morning.

Karma - Koro-Sensei's loyal right hand, was kicked out of junior high for picking fights and picked up by Koro-Sensei for his brilliant mind and ruthlessness. He swears he'll follow Koro-Sensei anywhere, and while he thinks this whole cleaning up the neighborhood is stupid and pointless, he'll keep that promise. He still itches to fight, and thus is usually on vigilante patrol. In junior high he never hit anyone who didn't already have it coming, and he is actually rather relieved to be living by those morals again. Koro-Sensei also signed Karma's legal documents to get him back into school, though now he's stuck in E-Class.

Emile - Runs a No Questions Clinic in the neighborhood Koro-Sensei's gang run around in, and is their main source of medical aid. He asks no questions and doesn't answer to cops, making him the perfect place for the mob to turn to when they need help. The only patient to ever pass in his hospital was Aguri, he still dwells on what he could have done better that might of saved her. Sense Koro-Sensei went clean he's had less patients, which he doesn't mind. Koro-Sensei still drops by to chat, and invites him out to local places to eat for fun often.

Nagisa - A student of class 3-E, he's also an amateur detective on the side. He'd been keeping track of the local Mafia for a while now sense suspecting his teacher, Aguri, of somehow having a connection to them. Sense she disappeared he's been hot on the case, along side her little sister, Akari, searching for answers. Karma purposefully avoids Nagisa's questions, and tells him to ask the Boss himself what happened. Koro-Sensei would answer Nagisa and Akari truthfully, but they just can't ever seem to catch him to ask.

Karasuma - Local Police, he's been working his ass off for YEARS now trying to catch Koro-Sensei to put him away for good, just for the bastard to suddenly scrub himself clean of Mafia activity and start acting all Good and Pure by using his wealth to clean up the neighborhood. Something shady is happening, Karasuma is sure of it, and he will not let it stand. He's constantly antagonizing Koro-Sensei, trying to find anything wrong in his actions to bring him in. It never works, and Koro-Sensei walks every time...

Aaaah I've never drawn Karma or Nagisa before so this was fun!!! Loyal Right hand didn't suit me, but Karma for sure follows Koro-Sensei around like a lovesick puppy <3

The original idea was to split the class between Mafia and Police, but they're just kids... They shouldn't be involved in such things... So the majority of them are just regular Class E students. Who's their teacher sense Aguri is still dead this AU? A handful of various Volunteers from Koro-Sensei's gang of course! Various assassins from canon who graciously give their time to teach Aguri's kids best they can. Koro-Sensei's just too busy to do so himself.

[antvnger]

Peter was patrolling his neighborhood again. He had barely started his round and already had a busy day. First Peter had to stop a pickpocket who tried to steal the money of an elderly woman. Then he helped the poor lady to get her groceries back to her place, making sure that she would arrive back safely. He had barely ended this task, when he saw some older kids picking on a little kid. Of course Peter couldn't just stay there and watch. So he walked over and brought this to a stop. After that it was quiet for a while, when Peter heared about a robbery in a shop close by. Peter let out a sight. To day was clearly a busy day but this was his job. So he put his mask back on and swung through Queens until he arrived at the shop. It were only two guys so Petre had finished them in a matter of seconds and made sure they would stay put until the police arrived. When the robbers were finally taken away, Peter swung himself back onto a roof to get a better view from there.

He made a few more rounds around Queens. That's when his sense kicked in. Peter stopped on a roof to look around, where the source of his bad feeling came from. He discovered a conspicuous guy, who put down a strange bag and left again. Peter frowned and made his way over to this guy. "Didn't you forget something?" he asked and raised his arm to shoot some of his webs at the man. But before Peter could react, the man had already hit him with some bolas, that wrapped around his wrist and tore him from the eminence he was standing on. Peter was pinned to a metal wall behind him. "What the..." He exclaimed confused as he looked at his wrist, traying to get them of when he was hit by more bolas. Peter was now unable to move as he looked at the strange bolas. "Hey... That's not very nice!" Peter complained, turning his head back to the man and saw this guy run away "Whoa... Hey... Wait! Where are you running? We haven't finished yet." Peter called after the stranger, while he struggled to get free. He cursed, knowing that he hadn't been careful enough and now had a problem, unable to get free while this guy was on the run and next to him this strange bag, that the man had left.

Scott was flying on his ant after helping out the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen when he heard somebody calling out. “Hey that voice sounds familiar,” he muttered to himself as he made the ant fly towards the voice.

When he found the source, he grinned at the sight of the webslinger. “Well isn’t this ironic. A spider caught in a different web.”

Then louder so Peter could hear, he greeted, “Hey Spider-Man, been a while since I saw you.” He hopped off the ant and grew to normal size.”