#stop supplying a pariah state

[emacrow]

The first time The Justice league met the ghost king, they were not expecting this.

They were just trying to stop Luther from getting more kryptonite shards after getting an anonymous way to summoned more concentrated ones.

They were not expecting something to follow along after it. Constantine is in the corner cursing up a storm about the infinite king which batman files for later...

Only for a tiny elderitch being mauled the living out of lex, eating every silver of kryptonite (50 pounds worth of kryptonite since he was in the giant mech suit) in sight like a starved savage animal before ploping in mid air like it was a solid floor after a small(cute) burp, before reforming into a humaniod state.... which was a tiny 5 year old white haired toddler with a look of I over-ate a food coma worth of snacks and it was worth it.

Meanwhile Danny was this close 👌🏻 from snapping into a terror tantrum that would made pariah king rage seem like child play after he caught on real quick on what was taking his ghost candy rock medicine supply prescripted to him from frostbite. Fuck vlad and his stupid plan to try and baby him, fuck the ghost zone cause everyone is now babying him, and not even clockwork is taking him seriously but did gave some cryptic hints on the whereabouts of his medicine that would help him grow faster.

It been literally 3 months by now and he has had it with the babying even though he look 5 physically, he is 18 year old! Not even his parents taking him seriously and been using this chance to spend time with him.. which is fine but he draws the line after bathtime, the sailor costume and floaty!

He was practically ravenous to the point of going eldritch form when he went chasing through trail of summoning ghost magic leading to his precious snacks.

He not even caring about the sad bald man in the mech suit after he had his fill and probably overduing eating and is just inducing the process of his food coma.

He is totally unaware of the audience he has right now that being watched on lived TV.

[zahri-melitor]

Dark Crisis on Infinite Earths:

I finished working my way through this as an event, and I've got to say that DC can't decide what it wants to do with the Multiverse. We've just gone from restoring the 52 Earths (Mostly around Convergence/Multiversity) to discovering the Dark Multiverse (Dark Nights: Metal, 2017), to rebooting the Multiverse at the end of Dark Nights: Death Metal to form the Omniverse (2020), but also restrict things back to 52 Earths only, to rediscovering Infinite Earths in Dark Crisis (2022), to the conclusion of Absolute Power being "we have once again cut off the Multiverse, but now we're going hard for Elseworlds instead" (2024). Make up your minds! Do you want to use the multiverse or not??? Please stop switching it up every 2 years!

Okay that rant aside, this is yet another event that cares very deeply about plot points and characters from COIE that have barely been seen in the intervening 36 years (and generally only in other events that reference COIE heavily). I don't have any emotional attachment to Pariah and the Anti-Monitor.

Structurally, it was an interesting event, in that there were about 4.5 plots going on.

Plot 1: the Justice League get trapped on dreamstate Earths born out of their subconscious wishes. In terms of commentary, Barry trapping himself in a 1950s comic book, Clark wanting to raise Jon (on the farm, with literally no other heroes from the Superfamily around), and J'onn J'onzz creating a future where he's merged humans with cephalopods/octopus so that they're psychic were probably the most interesting of the lot. Barry proves once again he's disconnected from the present, Clark is obsessing over his loss of Jon's childhood at the expense of everyone else, and J'onn...is once again mourning the loss of his culture and looking for a way to feel less disconnected from Earth. Still not quite turning into the sands of Mars tho boyo. Blah blah the League are feeling they're not communicating properly, they need to take a break and focus on themselves.

Plot 1.5: The Flashfam go to extract Barry and work out WTF is going on because they're the most reliable multiverse jumpers, and the Lanterns recruit everyone as bodies are needed (as all the heavy hitters are as stated trapped in dreamstate Earths).

Plot 2: Jon Kent forms the most underskilled novice Justice League since the early 1990s that largely consists of the latest legacies of various families, getting some direction from Black Adam. Their collective experience as superheroes MIGHT total 20 years active, and if it makes that it's because Booster and Ted are supplying most of that experience.

I am underwhelmed by this team, to put it mildly. There's a lot of "I need to be Superman as my father isn't here!" from Jon, and a lot of boring "Damian grows up to be Batman" foreshadowing where Damian outright insults people a lot, and Yara looks confused and irritated over why she's hanging out with them both. Jackson's trying his hardest, bless his heart, but because nobody really cares much about the Aquas they get that bit of the plot out of the way early on. I'm not sold on what this lot were actually trying to accomplish, despite once again being presented at the future of the DCU.

Plot 3: Dick and the Titans realise they have to step up to actually take leadership, because as noted Jon Kent's Justice League is out there competing with Justice League: Task Force days of "there are four warm bodies here, and only half of them are under the age of 18, we're good to go right?" for level of threat defence. Also Slade's busy trying to kill both Dick and Gar because he can something something dark forces corrupting him mad about Grant's death for the 87th time blah.

Plot 4: Young Justice get kidnapped into a further separate reality to keep them out of the way while the two generations on either side of them try to step up to leadership, and have a bunch of angst about being left out/left behind (I am going to discuss this separately. Spoilers: I thought it was one of the most interesting parts of this event).

My general impression of the entire event was the intended purpose was to showcase both Dick and Jon's leadership abilities. I think it achieved this, but not necessarily in the hoped for way. Dick showcased once again why he is the centrally trusted character of the DCU and can convince everyone and anyone to follow him. Jon showcased that he is absolutely not a leader, he needs to stop thinking that he is required to fill Clark's shoes, and DC need to stop trying to make it happen.

The bit where I most started rolling my eyes is when they decided that Jon Kent, half-Kryptonian powered by sunlight, from a species famously incredibly vulnerable to magic, needed to lead the team going into the magical pure darkness/demon dimension that has no sunlight "because his connection to the sun protects him". Jon's biggest weakness not starting with K is magic. So let's put him in a dimension consisting of magic and have him have to survive off the power of his sunlight...which he immediately wastes and burns off a lot of power by trying to fly. Power that he can't recover, because he's in said dark demon dimension with no sunlight.

Jon, sweetheart, you are not the brightest bulb.

My second biggest eyeroll was meeting Red Canary, Sienna, who accomplished exactly nothing when she accidentally got caught up in Damian's strikeforce that otherwise consisted of "a teleporter for travel, Peegee for her experience with the Cosmic Tuning Fork, and Dr Light because Kimiyo is both COIE linked AND has strong light based powers to fix the situation". I am still unsure of what the point of Red Canary being there was, because she mostly just snarked with Damian and got into trouble. Even if she was intended to eventually be revealed to be Sin Lance with memory problems or something she was not a convincing character.

The Flash storyline in and of itself was fun, but I'd actually already read it when I was reading through Adams' Flash run. It worked just fine in context of the event and it worked as a tie-in where you just skimmed over the event. Adams' Flash run is very entertaining.

As far as DC big summer events go, this one felt more about 'we want to reach these end conditions' (Justice League disbanded for a while, Justice Society of America back, Titans to step up as the headline team) than the actual content of the event itself. It was an event for the sake of having an event, you know?

I dunno. Maybe I would have cared more if I'd actually read COIE, but it felt derivative and like there was a lot of time wasting for the sake of referencing specific things that happened in COIE, whether or not they made sense for this storyline.

Oh and as a note, one other useful thing this event did do was specify that Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is supposed to be in continuity for Kara, and basically contemporaneously too.

[pennypixker]

Stargirl's Stream

The Maker turned in his creaking leather chair, gazing at the now captive Galacta being held in her Quantum Entanglement chamber. The dark haired celestial entity was currently experiencing one of the worse bouncing wedgies he had ever seen. Right as it looked like the goddess was about to reach her climax, her superposition changed and now Galacta was squealing as she was getting spanked on her two god like moons, her panties pulled to her chest.

The breaking of Galacta, a goddess, and the containment of her powers had been a coup for Obsidian. The final achievement in securing peace over Universe-MC. Despite her torturous state, Galacta had agreed to siphon her powers to help Dr. Zola’s research. In return the good doctor had fed Galacta’s voracious appetite, using the powers of the captured menagerie of damsels currently in Obsidian’s trophy room.

"Connect me to Universe-DC. Protocol Obsidian Mirror," said The Maker. Universe-MC was now secure, but the same could not be said for Universe-DC, in which the Maker had sent someone hew knew could get the job done. The main screen flickered, revealing the face of Reed Richards—now known as Pariah.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything important," The Maker remarked, eyeing Pariah's rumpled lab, where papers and chaotic equations filled every surface and computers ran simulations at overload.

"I was just finalizing the D-Bay encryption protocols," Pariah replied, his haunted eyes betraying a history of too much loss. "I saw Galacta had joined your collection. Galactus would be furious to learn what became of his daughter."

"If he found out, she’d remain hidden behind the quantum entanglement field—vanished to all outside detection," The Maker countered.

Pariah acknowledged this with a nod. "You used spectacle and force well, capturing and humiliating the heroines to ensure your rise."

"Twenty-three heroines from Universe-MC alone," The Maker said with pride. "Each capture a declaration that none were beyond our reach."

"But that direct approach won’t work here," Pariah cautioned as he zoomed in on images of key DC heroines—among them, a troublesome Stargirl whose resistance had already cost him two recruitment operations. "The Avengers were quarrelsome and were forced to limit the use of their powers, but here, with Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, you’d provoke immediate backlash. Injustice."

“What are you proposing instead?”. The Maker was intrigued. He was not used to being told that he was wrong.

“Supply and demand. Contract out our work and disperse the risk and backlash,” said Pariah, stepping aside to reveal a whiteboard with his master plan. “Using Damsel-Bay we will create a market for other actors to do our dirty work for us. Turn damsels into commodities and kidnapping into a trade. Soon the valuation of it will be so big that not even the Justice League could stop it, least they bring society and the stock market down with it!”

The Maker brought his hand to his lips, then asked, "Fascinating, and what do you need to execute this vision?"

"Blueprints for the Sentinel—I have a scientist ready to build something that adapts any hero’s power. And we must take care of Stargirl; she’s been prying into our operations. I have recruited an enforcer, Sportsmaster, for the job—he’s both skilled and enthusiastic."

The Maker grinned, "Then you have my full support. Send the coordinates for resource transfers. I’m even intrigued enough by your method to consider adopting a few of your ideas."

"Cross-pollination between universes—the scientific method applied to villainy," Pariah agreed.

The Maker’s eyes shifted to a screen showing a subdued Galacta. "The multiverse teems with heroines waiting to be collected, whether displayed or traded like cards, as long as they end up under our control."

As the quantum connection faded, Pariah added, "I contacted you after Stargirl’s humiliation—the first step in our new approach."

"I’ll be watching with interest," The Maker replied, as the screen went dark, leaving him amid his trophies and the satisfaction of ever-expanding Obsidian’s reign.

—

The clock on Courtney Whitmore’s bedroom wall read 8:15 PM as she adjusted her webcam, the soft blue glow of her cosmic staff casting ethereal shadows across her walls. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders as she leaned toward the camera, eyes bright with enthusiasm.

"Hey Star-Squad! Its Stargirl!" she chirped, waving at the camera. "Thanks for joining tonight's livestream! As promised, I'm showing off the upgrades to my cosmic staff and the reinforced material in my new costume."

Her slender figure glistened under the soft glow of the camera lights as she twirled, showcasing every curve and contour of her toned physique. The snug blue and gold uniform hugged her shapely hips and accentuated her defined waist, drawing attention to her sculpted abdomen and firm thighs. With each graceful movement, the fabric clung to her ample chest, emphasizing her perky breasts that peeked enticingly over the neckline. As she spun, her long legs extended elegantly, revealing smooth skin that seemed to shimmer with a hint of perspiration under the studio lights. The chat erupted with a flurry of admiring comments and eager inquiries, racing by too quickly for her to catch every flattering word.

"I know, right?" she laughed, responding to a comment. "The Kevlar weave makes it way more battle-ready, but still cute enough for the 'gram. And check this out—"

She reached for her staff, unaware of the shadow that had detached itself from the corner of her room. Sportsmaster moved with the practiced silence of a predator, his muscular frame somehow fluid in the darkness. He'd been there for fifteen minutes already, watching, waiting for the perfect moment.

"The cosmic converter now channels energy twice as efficiently," Stargirl continued, demonstrating a move that sent sparks of blue light dancing across her ceiling. Her chat window exploded with excitement.

"Let me show you guys the new grip feature—"

A hand slapped firmly across her backside with a resounding SMACK that echoed through the room and undoubtedly across the livestream. Stargirl yelped in surprise, whirling around only to find herself staring into the masked face of Sportsmaster.

"What's up, Star-Squad?" he mocked, his voice carrying a dangerous playfulness. "Mind if I join today's demonstration?"

"Sportsmaster!" she gasped, reaching for her staff, but he was faster. With one swift move, he knocked the cosmic rod from her grasp, sending it clattering across the floor. Before she could recover, he had her pinned face-down on her bed, just within view of the camera.

"Let me go!" she demanded, struggling against his iron grip. "How did you even get in here?"

"A good athlete always studies his opponent's home field," he chuckled, his voice low and menacing. "You should really upgrade your security system, not just your costume."

The chat window was going wild now, some viewers thinking this was a staged demonstration, others realizing with growing horror that Stargirl was in real trouble.

"Let's give your fans what they really want to see," Sportsmaster growled, using one hand to keep her pinned while the other grabbed the back of her costume top. With a violent jerk, he tore the fabric clean off her back, revealing a baby blue bra with stars underneath.

Courtney screamed in outrage, redoubling her efforts to break free as her exposed skin prickled with goosebumps. "You sick bastard! Let me go!"

"Come on, Star," Sportsmaster taunted, his voice carrying a sadistic lilt, "your fans are loving the show." He yanked down her shorts with one brutal motion, revealing a pair of matching baby blue panties with little golden stars scattered across the fabric. "Aww, how adorable. On-brand even with your underwear."

The chat scrolled frantically, a mix of horrified viewers calling for someone to help her and darker comments encouraging Sportsmaster's actions. He positioned her struggling form so her voluptuous rear was perfectly framed in the camera shot.

"Hell yeah! Rape her!"

"Time for what your fans have been waiting for," he growled, gripping the waistband of her panties with both hands. "Let's see how high these stars can fly."

With a savage yank, he pulled the underwear upward, the fabric immediately disappearing between her cheeks. Stargirl let out a strangled yelp, her face flushing crimson as the wedgie bit deep into her most sensitive areas.

"Nnnngh! Stop—ahhhh!" she cried out, her legs kicking uselessly as he maintained his grip.

"Wow, these are some quality panties," Sportsmaster observed, continuing to pull until the fabric stretched halfway up her back. "Must be that reinforced material you were bragging about. Let's test its limits, shall we?"

He twisted the fabric, creating an excruciating friction that made Stargirl squeal in a mixture of pain and humiliation. Her hands clawed desperately at the bedspread, trying to find purchase to pull herself away.

"Hey viewers," Sportsmaster addressed the camera directly, giving the panties another vicious tug that lifted Stargirl's hips off the bed. "What should I do with America's sweetheart next? Drop your suggestions in the chat."

Maintaining his grip on her underwear with one hand, he leaned over to read the rapidly scrolling comments. "Oh, that's a popular request," he chuckled darkly. "Several viewers want to see what that fancy staff of yours can really do."

Stargirl's eyes widened in horror. "Don't you dare," she hissed, renewed panic giving her strength to twist against his hold. "That staff is a powerful cosmic weapon, not a—"

"Not anymore," Sportsmaster cut her off, stretching out his free arm to grab the fallen cosmic staff. "Tonight it's getting a whole new purpose."

He pulled her panties to the side, exposing her most intimate areas to the camera. Stargirl's scream of protest echoed through the room as he positioned the handle of the staff at her rear entrance.

"The viewers have spoken," Sportsmaster growled, slowly working the staff deeper. "And they want to see if their little star can take her own weapon."

With deliberate cruelty, he pushed the handle inside her, causing Stargirl to arch her back and release a strangled cry. Her face contorted in a mixture of pain and unwanted pleasure as her body betrayed her.

"Look at that," Sportsmaster announced to the camera, twisting the staff slightly. "America's golden girl taking it like a champ. How does it feel to have your power source violating you, Stargirl?"

"P-please stop," she whimpered, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. The cosmic energy from the staff hummed inside her, creating sensations that made her entire body tremble. "This is... this is wrong..."

"Wrong? Your viewers don't seem to think so," he laughed, checking the chat again. "Oh, here's a good one. 'Hanging wedgie from the ceiling light.' I like how you think, CaptorFan89."

Keeping the staff firmly lodged inside her, Sportsmaster yanked Stargirl up by her panties. She screamed as the fabric cut even deeper into her flesh, her legs kicking helplessly in the air.

"Time for some elevation," he announced, dragging her across the room by her stretched underwear, her toes barely scraping the floor. Each step sent jolts through her body as the staff shifted inside her.

Reaching the center of the room, Sportsmaster hoisted her higher, the panties now stretched to their absolute limit. With practiced efficiency, he looped the fabric around the ceiling light fixture, leaving Stargirl dangling several feet above the floor.

"OWWWW!" she wailed, her body weight now fully supported by the thin fabric between her legs. The cosmic staff remained inside her, its glow visible through her stretched panties, creating an obscene light show for the viewers. "IT'S CUTTING ME IN HALF!"

"That's the idea," Sportsmaster replied coldly, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Stargirl twisted helplessly in mid-air, her hands trying desperately to reach behind her to relieve the pressure, but succeeding only in making herself swing in a small circle.

The chat exploded with new suggestions, which Sportsmaster read with growing delight. "Your fans are very creative," he observed. "Let's try this one next."

Grabbing her flailing arms, he pulled them behind her back and secured them with a zip tie from his pocket. Then he reached up, grabbed her leg, and began bouncing her by the panties.

Each bounce sent shockwaves of agony through Stargirl's body, the cosmic staff shifting deeper with every movement. Her voice oscillated in squeaks and moans as she went up and down and back up again. The ceiling light fixture creaked ominously above her as she swung, her weight testing the limits of both the electrical wiring and her underwear's elastic.

"Please... stop..." she gasped between bounces, her voice breaking. "You've made your point..."

"Oh, I'm just getting started," Sportsmaster replied, giving her another vicious bounce that made her scream. "The viewers are loving this. Look at those numbers—you've never had this many people watching your little superhero show."

He was right. The viewer count had skyrocketed into the thousands, the chat moving so fast it was almost impossible to read. The mixture of horror, excitement, and cruel suggestions scrolled by in a blur of depravity.

"Here's an interesting one," Sportsmaster said, plucking a suggestion from the chat. "'Melvin wedgie while she's hanging.' I had to look that one up, but it sounds perfect for our little star."

He reached up and grabbed the front of her panties, which were already stretched tight against her body from the hanging position. With a savage jerk, he pulled the front upward, creating excruciating pressure on her most sensitive area. The fabric bit into her, forcing a strangled gasp from her lips.

"H-how does that feel, Stargirl?" he taunted, giving the front another vicious tug. "Is this what they teach you in the Justice Society training sessions?"

"Nnnngh... you... won't... get away with this," she managed between clenched teeth, her face contorted in agony as the double wedgie assaulted her from both directions.

"I already have," Sportsmaster laughed, releasing the front of her panties with a snap that made her whole body jerk. The motion caused the staff inside her to shift, eliciting another unwilling moan. "Your humiliation is being broadcast to thousands. By tomorrow, millions will have seen America's sweetheart turned into a wedgie toy."

The cosmic staff pulsed inside her, each vibration sending waves of unwanted sensation through Stargirl's body. Her mind reeled with the horrific reality—she was hanging by her underwear, violated by her own weapon, broadcast live to thousands. The burning shame was almost worse than the physical pain, a deep psychological wound that felt like it would never heal.

"How's it feel, Star?" Sportsmaster's voice cut through her fog of humiliation. "Being turned into a human piñata for your adoring fans?"

Courtney couldn't answer. The panties had cut so deeply into her flesh that every word was a struggle. The elastic, though reinforced like her costume, was stretched beyond recognition, the once-cute baby blue fabric now a thin, taut line disappearing between her cheeks and digging relentlessly into her most sensitive areas. She could feel the material fraying against her skin, creating micro-abrasions that stung with every slight movement.

"P-please," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "The staff... it's... it's too much."

The cosmic rod inside her seemed to have a mind of its own, the energy within it responding to her distress by pulsing more intensely. Each throb sent conflicting signals through her nervous system—pain intermingled with involuntary pleasure that made her hate herself for responding. The cold metal had warmed against her body, but the unyielding hardness remained, stretching her in ways she'd never imagined possible.

"Let's see what else your adoring public wants," Sportsmaster mused, scrolling through the rapidly moving chat with a predatory gleam in his eyes. The light from the screen cast sinister shadows across his masked face as Stargirl dangled helplessly above him, the cosmic staff still lodged firmly inside her.

"Please..." she whimpered, her voice barely audible as tears streaked her flushed cheeks. The baby blue panties had stretched to an impossible length, the fabric digging so deeply into her flesh that angry red marks were forming on her skin. "Someone... help me..."

"Oh, this is an interesting one," he said, his voice dropping to a silky purr that made Stargirl's stomach clench with dread. "'SpankThatStar69' thinks you need some discipline. Says, and I quote, 'That ass is begging for a good old-fashioned spanking. Make her count each one while the staff is still inside her.'"

Stargirl's eyes widened with fresh horror. "No! You've done enough! Please!"

"I don't think so," Sportsmaster replied, reaching up to grip the stretched fabric of her panties. "In fact, I think we're just getting to the good part."

With a sudden, violent motion, he ripped the panties free from the ceiling light, sending Stargirl plummeting. She screamed, expecting to hit the floor, but Sportsmaster caught her with practiced ease, the movement forcing the cosmic staff deeper inside her and drawing a strangled gasp from her lips.

In one fluid motion, he sat down on the edge of her bed and flipped her over his lap, positioning her so her reddened bottom faced the camera perfectly. The cosmic staff protruded obscenely from between her cheeks, its blue glow pulsing in rhythm with her racing heartbeat.

"You know," Sportsmaster observed, running a gloved hand almost appreciatively over the curve of her buttocks, "you really do have a spankable ass, Stargirl. Firm from all that superhero training, but still with just the right amount of give." He squeezed one cheek roughly, drawing a yelp from his captive. "Your fans might be onto something here."

"Don't do this," she pleaded, struggling weakly against his iron grip. Her bound arms flailed uselessly behind her back. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

"Humiliation is just the beginning," he replied, raising his hand high. "This is about breaking you. Breaking your spirit. Breaking your image. By the time I'm done, no one will ever look at Stargirl the same way again."

His hand came down with a thunderous CRACK that echoed through the bedroom like a gunshot. Stargirl's entire body jerked, her back arching as the impact reverberated through her flesh and drove the cosmic staff deeper inside her. A scream tore from her throat, high-pitched and raw.

"COUNT!" Sportsmaster barked, his fingers digging into the small of her back to hold her in place.

"O-one," she gasped, her voice trembling. The handprint on her right cheek bloomed crimson against her pale skin, perfectly visible to the thousands watching the livestream.

His hand rose again, hovering for an agonizing moment before crashing down on her other cheek with even greater force. The impact sent shock waves through her body, jostling the cosmic staff and causing it to pulse with renewed energy inside her.

"TWO!" she shrieked, the word dissolving into a sob as tears streamed down her face.

Sportsmaster established a merciless rhythm, alternating cheeks with surgical precision. Each blow landed with the calculated force of someone who understood exactly how much pain to inflict without allowing her the mercy of unconsciousness. The staff shifted inside her with every impact, its cosmic energy reacting to her distress by pulsing erratically, sending conflicting sensations of pain and unwanted pleasure coursing through her body.

"Three! Four! Five!" Stargirl counted between increasingly desperate sobs, her voice growing louder with each impact. The burning in her rear intensified as blow after blow landed on already sensitized flesh, turning her once-pale skin a mottled canvas of angry reds and forming bruises.

By the tenth spank, her screams had reached a fever pitch, echoing off the walls of her bedroom and reverberating through the house. Sportsmaster paused, his head cocking slightly as if listening.

"You're getting too loud, Star," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "We can't have the neighbors calling the police before we finish our show."

Stargirl drew in a ragged breath, about to scream for help, when Sportsmaster's hand clamped over her mouth. She bit down hard, trying to force him to release her, but the reinforced material of his glove prevented her teeth from doing any damage.

"Nice try," he chuckled before winding back his arm and giving her one final smack that caused Courtney to scream with all her lungs against Sportmaster’s gloved hand.

He turned his attention back to the livestream chat, which had exploded with even more depraved suggestions. Stargirl lay across his lap, her body trembling with exhaustion and pain, the cosmic staff still lodged inside her, pulsing with energy that seemed to feed on her distress.

"Oh, this one's interesting," Sportsmaster announced, his voice carrying a note of genuine amusement. "Several viewers are asking about a 'giveaway.' They want to know if they can win you as a prize." He laughed, the sound chilling in its sincerity. "That's actually part of tonight's plan, believe it or not. Pariah's new venture needs promotion, and you're going to be our first advertisement."

Stargirl's muffled protests intensified, her eyes widening with fresh horror as she realized this nightmare was far from over.

"That's right, Star-Squad," Sportsmaster addressed the camera directly. "One lucky viewer is going to win America's sweetheart as their very own personal plaything. Delivery included." He ran a gloved hand through Stargirl's tangled blonde hair, gripping it tightly to force her tear-streaked face toward the camera. "Look at that expression. Who wouldn't want this waiting for them at home?"

The chat exploded with excitement, viewer numbers climbing even higher as word spread across darker corners of the internet about what was happening on Stargirl's livestream.

"But before we select our winner, I think we need one final demonstration of what you'll be receiving," Sportsmaster continued, releasing her hair and standing up abruptly.

Stargirl tumbled from his lap onto the floor, landing with a muffled cry as the impact drove the cosmic staff deeper inside her. Before she could recover, Sportsmaster grabbed her by the bra straps and yanked her to her feet.

"Let's give them the grand finale—an atomic wedgie to remember you by."

Courtney’s eyes went wild. Her muffled screams filled the room as she thrashed, desperate to escape Sportmaster’s grip.

"But first," Sportsmaster mused, his eyes scanning the room with predatory focus, "I think we need something special for the final act." He dragged Stargirl across the floor by her bra strap, her bound body scraping against the carpet as she whimpered. "Your current underwear is pretty much destroyed. Let's see what other treasures America's sweetheart keeps in her drawers."

Stargirl thrashed against her bonds, desperate muffled protests escaping around the edges of the wadded panties in her mouth. Her eyes widened with renewed horror as Sportsmaster approached her dresser, the cosmic staff still protruding obscenely from her backside, its glow pulsing with each movement.

"Let's take a look at your collection, shall we?" he said, yanking open the top drawer with theatrical flair. The livestream chat exploded with excitement as viewers realized they were about to see Stargirl's most private possessions exposed to the world.

Sportsmaster rummaged through the neatly folded contents, tossing aside sports bras and cotton panties with casual disregard. "Boring... predictable... too plain..." he muttered, his commentary adding to Stargirl's mortification as each item was held up for the camera before being discarded.

When he reached the back of the drawer, his movements suddenly stilled. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dropping to a tone of malicious delight. "What do we have here?" He slowly withdrew his hand, dangling something small and pink between his fingers.

A delicate pink thong swung from his grip, tiny embroidered flowers decorating the front triangle. It was the kind of underwear hidden at the back of a drawer, perhaps never worn, or saved for a special occasion that never came.

"Now this is interesting," Sportsmaster announced to the camera, twirling the thong around his finger. "America's innocent little superhero has a naughty side after all." He stretched the thin material, examining the floral pattern with exaggerated interest. "Pink roses on a pink thong. How adorably cliché. Is this what you wear when you're not being a hero, Stargirl? When you want to feel pretty for someone special?"

Courtney's face burned crimson, tears streaming down her cheeks as the most embarrassing item in her possession was displayed for thousands of viewers. The thong had been a gag gift from a friend for her eighteenth birthday, something she'd hidden away and never intended to wear. Now it was being broadcast across the internet, another piece of her dignity stripped away.

"I think it's time for a costume change," Sportsmaster declared, stalking back toward her trembling form. He grabbed the cosmic staff protruding from her and slowly, torturously, withdrew it, the metal sliding out with a wet sound that made Stargirl's entire body convulse in shame

Stargirl collapsed to the floor, her body shuddering with relief as the cosmic staff was finally removed. The momentary reprieve was short-lived as Sportsmaster grabbed her by her hair, yanking her head back to face the camera.

"Look at that, viewers—she's actually disappointed it's gone," he taunted, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Don't worry, Star. We'll find something else to fill that emptiness soon enough."

He dangled the pink thong in front of her face, letting the delicate fabric brush against her tear-stained cheeks. "But first, let's get you properly dressed for your new owner."

With practiced efficiency, he maneuvered her limp body, positioning her so her bound hands were useless to resist as he slid the thin pink fabric up her trembling legs. The thong felt alien against her skin—too small, too revealing, nothing like the practical underwear she normally chose for superhero duties.

"Perfect fit," Sportsmaster observed, snapping the thin waistband against her hip with enough force to make her flinch. "I bet you never thought your first time wearing this would be for an audience of thousands."

Stargirl's muffled whimpers intensified as he positioned her on her knees, facing away from the camera so her newly thonged bottom was the center of attention. The thin strip of pink fabric disappeared between her reddened cheeks, offering almost no coverage to her thoroughly spanked rear.

"And now," Sportsmaster announced dramatically, "the main event that everyone's been waiting for—the atomic wedgie!"

He gripped the back of the thong with both hands, the thin material offering minimal resistance as he yanked upward with brutal force.

"Look at that stretch!" Sportsmaster narrated for the audience as he continued pulling the thong higher and higher up her back. "These might be skimpy, but they're surprisingly durable."

Courtney's body contorted in agony, her back arching as the relentless pressure forced her into an unnatural position. The thin strip of fabric cut into her flesh with the intensity of a knife, the pain radiating outward from her center in waves that made her vision blur.

With one final, vicious pull, Sportsmaster stretched the thong all the way to the back of her head. Before Stargirl could process what was happening, he looped the waistband over her forehead, securing it in place like a grotesque headband.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the atomic wedgie is complete!" he announced triumphantly, stepping back to allow the camera an unobstructed view of his handiwork.

Sportsmaster stepped back to admire his handiwork, the camera capturing every humiliating detail of Stargirl's atomic wedgie. The pink thong stretched impossibly from between her legs, up her back, and over her head, pulling her into a painful arch that made her whole body tremble.

"Now that's art," he announced to the livestream, circling her trembling form. "America's golden girl, trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey."

Stargirl's eyes rolled back as the pain reached new heights, the thin fabric cutting deeper with each passing second. Her cries grew weaker as exhaustion began to claim her, her body's resources depleted by the prolonged torture.

Sportsmaster's voice dripped with malice as he gloated, "Since your streaming career is about to be cut short, let's ensure this final act gets you banned."

He hoisted Stargirl up by the middle of her pink thong, which was now cruelly stretched up to her head, the thin fabric biting into her flesh and sending waves of agony through her trembling body. The pain was so intense that her screams were reduced to mere gasps. Holding her suspended like a gruesome marionette, he positioned himself to relish the terror in her eyes.

Her fresh humiliation was almost comically satisfying as he began to unzip his pants. "You know where this is going," he taunted, enjoying the way her eyes widened in disbelief as his cock strained against his underwear. He freed it with a swift motion, letting it throb with anticipation right in front of her. "Suck it," he commanded coldly, pulling the thong tighter as he forced his length into her open mouth.

Stargirl's eyes widened in horror, "No! Wait! Please, don't do this!" escaping her lips just before he thrust the entire length into her mouth.

"That's it, work those lips," Sportsmaster instructed, using her own thong to direct her head like a puppet. He pulled it back and forth, sawing the thong and rocking her head in a brutal rhythm.

The room filled with wet, obscene slurping sounds as she gagged and choked, drool spilling from her stuffed lips. All she could taste was disgust and humiliation, the shame more bitter than anything physical. She had never imagined herself like this—bound, degraded, and used like a toy for some vile predator's amusement. It was degrading beyond words, every second adding another layer to her torment.

"You're a natural at this," Sportsmaster continued with cruel encouragement, his voice mixing with the rhythmic slap of his thrusts against her cheek. "I bet you've been practicing for just this moment."

Courtney's teary eyes fluttered as she struggled against the unbearable pressure of the thong and the relentless invasion of her mouth. Each pull on the thong seemed to tighten its grip on her head, turning pain into an all-consuming force that made it impossible to think or breathe. Her lungs screamed for air as much as her body screamed for mercy.

"Let's not forget who the star of this show is," he said with a dark chuckle, taking out his phone to capture a close-up shot of her slobbering, red-streaked face. "Everyone wave goodbye to Stargirl's innocence!"

His obscene laughter mixed with Courtney's muffled protests as he pulled out just long enough for her to gasp a lungful of air, only to plunge back in again before she could beg for him to stop. Her drool splattered messily down her neck and onto her bra, shimmering under the harsh light like some perverse necklace.

"Keep going; you're almost there," he urged mockingly as he felt himself nearing climax. The pace grew frantic, punishingly fast, each brutal thrust accompanied by the desperate gulping sounds from deep in her throat. Courtney could only kick weakly, as if she was riding a bike, while her bound arms swayed uselessly.

With one final thrust, he exploded into her mouth, hot and overwhelming as she sputtered under its force. She tried not to swallow but had no other choice, drowning in the humiliation of it as much as in its taste.

The livestream chat exploded with comments as viewers reacted to the degrading spectacle:

"OMG is this for real?"

"She totally deserved this!"

"LOL look at her squirm!"

Sportsmaster held her limp, wedgied form like a trophy, showing it off to the camera. "Isn't this what you wanted all along?" he mocked. "All those years playing dress-up, just hoping someone would come along and finally put your mouth to good use?" Stargirl's body was a knot of conflicting sensations, pain and humiliation mingling with pleasure and degradation, the agony of the atomic wedgie colliding with the aftertaste of his seed in her mouth.

The thick, sticky fluid was everywhere—dripping down her chin, falling onto her trembling chest, pooling in her eyes. It was the perfect finishing touch to the picture of utter defeat, and he savored it, laughing as she crumpled.

"I think it's time to announce our giveaway winner," Sportsmaster declared, pulling out a small tablet and scrolling through the comments. "The lucky viewer who'll receive this delightful package delivered straight to their door is..." He paused dramatically, savoring the moment. "Username 'CosmicCollector' from Metropolis! Congratulations!"

He turned back to Stargirl, whose horrified eyes widened at the realization that her ordeal was far from over. "No, please, not this," she whimpered, her voice hoarse from the previous ordeal. The taste of him still lingered in her mouth, a bitter reminder of her humiliation. "You can't do this to me. I just... I can't take anymore."

"Time to package our merchandise," Sportsmaster said, producing a roll of duct tape from his utility belt. With quick, practiced movements, he bound her ankles together, adding another layer of restraint to her already helpless form. The tape made a sickening ripping sound as he wrapped it multiple times around her legs, securing them from ankle to knee in a tight silver cocoon.

"Please, don't do this," Stargirl begged, her voice barely a whisper. Her jaw ached from the earlier exertion. "I can't... I can't go through any more of this."

"Can't have you trying to escape during transit," he explained, his voice carrying the casual tone of someone discussing a routine delivery. "Customer satisfaction is our priority at D-Bay."

Stargirl's body jerked weakly as he applied more tape around her torso, binding her arms more securely to her sides. The atomic wedgie remained in place, the pink thong still stretched cruelly over her head, forcing her into a painful arch that made breathing difficult. "I can't breathe like this," she gasped, her cheeks still wet with tears and saliva. "Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Almost ready for shipping," Sportsmaster announced, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her toward the door. Her bound body slid across the floor, leaving a trail of tears and sweat on the carpet. "Just need to get you to the delivery vehicle."

She let out a pitiful moan. "Please, don't do this," she sobbed. "Haven't you done enough to me already?"

He paused at the doorway, turning back to address the camera one final time. "Don't worry, Star-Squad. Your favorite heroine will be well taken care of by her new owner. And for those who missed out on today's giveaway, stay tuned. D-Bay will be launching soon with more superheroines available for your bidding pleasure."

With that ominous promise, he dragged Stargirl out of frame, her screams fading as they moved through the house. The camera continued broadcasting to thousands of viewers, showing only her empty bedroom with its scattered costume pieces and the discarded cosmic staff lying on the floor.

The waiting van stood in the darkness of the alleyway behind Stargirl's home, its nondescript white exterior betraying nothing of its sinister purpose. Sportsmaster yanked open the rear doors, revealing an interior modified for a very specific kind of transport. The space was empty save for a single wooden coffin lying in the center, its polished surface gleaming dully in the moonlight.

"Your chariot awaits, princess," Sportsmaster chuckled, dragging Stargirl's bound form toward the vehicle. Her screams intensified at the sight of the coffin, her body twisting with renewed desperation despite the exhaustion that threatened to claim her.

"No, please, not the coffin," she cried, her voice hoarse from screaming and her earlier ordeal. The thong had continued to ride up her rear as it hung on her head; the pain bringing fresh tears to her already swollen eyes. "I can't... I can't be in there. Please, anything but that."

"Don't worry, it's not a real coffin," Sportsmaster said, his voice mockingly reassuring as he hoisted her into the van. "Just a specially designed transport container. Custom-built for shipping superheroes to their new owners."

He positioned her beside the open box, allowing her a clear view of its interior. The coffin was lined with black velvet, the padding shaped to accommodate a human form. Small air holes dotted the sides, and various restraint points were built into the lining—a prison designed for maximum discomfort while maintaining just enough life support to keep the merchandise viable.

"Please, don't put me in there," Stargirl begged, her eyes wide with terror. "I'll do anything, just please don't... I can't take this anymore."

"Pretty deluxe accommodations, if you ask me," Sportsmaster commented, running a gloved hand along the coffin's edge. "Some of our less valuable captures get shipped in much less comfortable containers."

Stargirl's eyes widened with fresh horror as he lifted her bound form, the movement sending new waves of agony through her wedgied body. The thong, stretched beyond all reasonable limits, dug even deeper as he manipulated her into the coffin, positioning her on her back.

"Perfect fit," he observed, pressing down on her shoulders to force her fully into the velvet-lined interior. "Though we do have one small issue to address before closing the lid."

Sportsmaster reached over and grabbed one of his batons from his belt, twirling it thoughtfully between his fingers as Stargirl watched with mounting dread.

"You see, your new owner paid extra for you to arrive... properly filled," he explained, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "But your cosmic staff is too long for this container. Fortunately, I have the perfect substitute."

"No, not that," Stargirl pleaded, her voice shaking with fear. "You can't... not after what you made me do earlier. I can't... I can't take anymore."

Before Stargirl could process his meaning, Sportsmaster flipped her onto her belly within the coffin, exposing her still-thonged rear. With deliberate cruelty, he positioned the baton. The smooth metal of the baton pressed against her rear entrance, causing Stargirl to writhe in desperate protest. Her hoarse screams intensified, tears streaming down her face as she tried to twist away within the confines of the coffin.

"Hold still now," Sportsmaster commanded, placing a heavy hand on her hip to immobilize her. "This is part of the delivery specifications. CosmicCollector paid extra for this feature."

With methodical cruelty, he began to push the baton inside her, the metal implement considerably thicker than her cosmic staff had been. Stargirl's body went rigid, her back arching as far as the atomic wedgie would allow, her bound legs kicking feebly against the velvet lining.

"There we go," Sportsmaster murmured as the baton slid deeper, inch by excruciating inch. "Your body's adapting nicely. Must be all that superhero training."

The cold metal stretched her painfully, filling her in a way that made her feel utterly violated. Unlike her cosmic staff, which had at least been familiar to her, this foreign object represented a complete loss of control—another villain's tool invading the most intimate part of her.

When the baton was halfway inserted, Sportsmaster paused, considering the length. "This should be just right," he decided, leaving enough of the implement protruding that it would press against the coffin lid when closed. "A constant reminder of your new status during transit."

He flipped her onto her back again, the movement causing the baton to shift inside her and draw another muffled scream through her gag. The atomic wedgie pulled her head forward at an uncomfortable angle, the once-cute pink thong now a torture device stretching from between her legs, up her back, and over her forehead.

"Perfect," Sportsmaster declared, admiring his handiwork. "America's sweetheart, all packaged up and ready for delivery."

He reached for the coffin lid, a slow smile spreading beneath his mask as Stargirl's eyes widened with renewed panic. The wooden cover descended slowly, like a final curtain on her freedom. As it made contact with the protruding end of the baton, Sportsmaster applied firm pressure, forcing the implement deeper inside her as the lid closed completely.

The coffin's interior plunged into near-darkness, the only light filtering through the small air holes drilled in the sides. Stargirl's muffled sobs echoed in the confined space, her body trembling from exhaustion, pain, and the crushing weight of humiliation. The baton inside her pressed deeper with every slight movement, a constant reminder of her captivity.

Inside the dark confines of the wooden prison, Stargirl's tears soaked the coffin padding. The baton shifted with every bump and movement of the van, sending fresh waves of unwanted sensation through her body. The thong, still stretched in its atomic wedgie position, cut mercilessly into her flesh, the constant pressure making it impossible to find even a moment's relief. The lingering taste in her mouth and the ache in her jaw served as bitter reminders of her earlier ordeal, compounding her misery.

The engine rumbled to life, and she felt the vehicle begin to move. Through the tiny air holes, she could see occasional flashes of streetlights passing overhead—her last glimpses of the outside world before being delivered to "CosmicCollector" like a package, a product, a thing. Her sobs echoed softly in the darkness, a mournful soundtrack to her descent into despair. "Why is this happening to me?" she whispered to herself, the words barely audible even in the confined space. "Why can't I just wake up from this nightmare?"

[mariacallous]

“I just want to sell titty pictures,” says Allie Eve Knox, a professional dominatrix and fetish performer, exhausted. “I never wanted to be an expert in financial discrimination.”

After starting out in sex work in 2014, Knox, like others in the field, has become something of a financial pariah. The first to ban her were the payment apps—PayPal, Venmo, and CashApp—which prohibit the sale of adult content as policy. But then Knox lost her bank account too. It took a week to recover her money.

Nine years on and 30-plus bans later, Knox is jaded: “I don’t want to have to know how to run money to different places. I don’t want to deal with any of this bullshit.”

An ICU nurse by training, Allie Rae, another US-based sex worker, began posting on OnlyFans when her husband was furloughed. Before long, she was earning far more selling adult content online—close to $500,000 per month—than she was in her regular job. But like Knox, she quickly ran into trouble.

When word of her side hustle spread through the ward, Rae lost her job. But she also found that realtors wouldn’t deal with her, lenders refused her a mortgage, and accountants snubbed her. Rae set up a company through which to manage her income, but no major bank would give her a business account. “Left and right, it’s been a struggle,” she says. “I was very naive—I didn’t understand the magnitude of the discrimination.”

The experience of Knox and Rae is typical of sex workers across the globe, but particularly in the US, where banks and payment processors shy away from the adult industry. The reason is almost never made clear, but sex workers suspect that financial institutions fear reputational damage and liability for the facilitation of money laundering or sex trafficking. Data published in May by the Free Speech Coalition (FSC), a US trade association for the adult industry, suggests two-thirds of sex workers have lost access to either a bank account or financial service, while 40 percent have had an account closed within the past year.

Faced with this predicament, sex workers have gone in search of an alternative means of both storing wealth and accepting payment. In cryptocurrency, for a time, it appeared they had found one: Not only did crypto allow clients to pay discreetly, without supplying personal information, but it gave sex workers a way to bypass the banking system entirely, by taking payments directly to their crypto wallets.

But as regulatory scrutiny of cryptocurrency ratchets up in response to the fallout of the collapse of crypto exchange FTX, sex workers are bumping up against its limitations. They are finding that, in a few important ways, crypto is no more detached from the banking system than the dollar it was built to some day replace.

In the US, full-service sex work (also known as prostitution) is illegal in every state but Nevada, but pornography and online sex work are legal under the First Amendment. Irrespective of this distinction, banking access has been a problem for the entire sex work community since at least the 1960s, says Mike Stabile, director of public affairs at the FSC, and has only become more acute.

The issue was exacerbated a decade ago by a program launched by the Obama administration, under which banks were warned that a collection of industries posed an “elevated risk” of fraud, including pornography. Now known as Operation Chokepoint, the initiative was found by investigators not to have constituted a deliberate attempt to disrupt disfavored businesses, but is nonetheless said to have led banks to sever ties with the adult sector.

In 2018, the Allow States and Victims to Fight Online Sex Trafficking Act (FOSTA) and the Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act (SESTA) followed. The bills were supposed to make it easier to hold to account platforms that allegedly facilitate trafficking, like Backpage.com, which was seized by the FBI. But the online classifieds site—and others, since voluntarily closed—were also popular venues for advertising legal sex services, as well as sharing information about new clients for safety purposes. The bills had the triple effect, then, of clipping sex workers’ income, increasing risk, and making the banks even more squeamish, members of the industry say.

Because the adult industry has historically been fairly small—and the Christian anti-porn lobby has been dogged—its advocates have made little imprint in Washington, DC. But the arrival of platforms like OnlyFans, which grew substantially during the pandemic, has shone a new light on the banking issue. The industry “went from 2,000 people shooting adult content in San Fernando Valley to millions of people,” says Stabile. “Suddenly, there was a far larger number experiencing [the closure of bank accounts and other financial services].”

When banks close the accounts of sex workers, they rarely give a clear justification. In one letter delivered by Wells Fargo to porn actor Alana Evans, president of the Adult Performance Artists Guild (APAG), the bank wrote that the account, opened in the mid-1990s, would be closed as part of “ongoing reviews” related to its responsibility to “manage risks.” The decision, the letter said, was final. Wells Fargo declined to comment.

The personal and social consequences of a lack of access to banking and payments services for sex workers range from the mundane—an inability to use Venmo to split the bill at a restaurant—to the potentially existential: the failure to meet medical fees or rent, say.

It also means they are beholden from a commercial perspective to platforms like OnlyFans and Fansly, which handle payouts but take a sizable chunk of earnings. Because of the deterioration of their own relationships with the banks, these platforms are sometimes unreliable too. (In 2021, OnlyFans announced a ban on sexually explicit content, under pressure from banking partners to clean up, before reversing course five days later.)

In the worst possible cases, though, a lack of access to financial services creates dangerous power dynamics, whereby sex workers must rely on a friend or spouse to act as the custodian of their wealth, exposing them to risk of abuse.

“One of the ways traffickers control victims is by controlling their finances,” says Jessica Van Meir, founder of MintStars, an adult-friendly NFT subscription platform, and a PhD candidate at Harvard specializing in women's informal labor. “The irony is that banks exclude sex workers largely for fear of liability for sex trafficking, but by discriminating against sex workers, they put them at higher risk of sex trafficking.”

Even if the friend or spouse is well-meaning, says Stabile, “you’re handing someone else control of your financial life—and that’s tremendously dangerous.”

The idea that crypto might be used to address these issues was intuitive to sex workers from early on. Provided they could navigate the technical frictions associated with receiving crypto payments and managing a crypto wallet, they could transact with clients directly, bypassing both the hostile banking system and the fees levied by large platforms. The irreversible nature of crypto transactions, meanwhile, protected against another common problem: chargebacks, a process whereby a payment is rescinded after a dispute is raised by a client with their card provider, often without cause and after material has already been received.

Knox began to accept crypto in 2014, only five years after bitcoin, the first cryptocurrency, was created. Whenever she was performing in a live cam room, Knox took to holding up a QR code through which people could tip her in crypto.

Liara Roux, who began working as an escort roughly a decade ago, before later moving into pornography, began to accept crypto payments in 2015 at the request of clients. Initially, she would cash out into dollars immediately, but when SESTA and FOSTA came into effect—after which many adult-friendly advertising sites could no longer accept regular money—she began to pay for ads with crypto too. “By and large, crypto is useful for people that aren’t being taken care of properly by the government,” says Roux. “For sex workers, who aren’t well-served by banks, it becomes a useful option.”

Others were pushed toward crypto by external events. For Rae, it was OnlyFans’ flirtation with a ban on adult content. For some, it was a block imposed by Mastercard and Visa on Pornhub, one of the world’s largest porn websites, in 2020, following a New York Times investigation that found it to be “infested with rape videos.” Data collected by Sex Work CEO, an online portal featuring resources for sex workers, suggests at least a third of sex workers now accept crypto payments.

But for all crypto’s promise as a means of dancing around the banking system, sex workers are finding the limits of its utility: Although sending and receiving crypto payments is relatively simple, converting it into dollars is sometimes not.

The typical method is to transfer crypto to an exchange, where earnings are converted into regular money, which is then withdrawn to a bank account (assuming it hasn’t been closed). But sex workers are sometimes banned from crypto exchanges too, albeit less frequently, leaving them stranded with a form of money they cannot use to pay rent or buy goods.

“You get on an exchange for as long as you can, until they shut your ass down,” says Knox. “You quickly [run out of exchanges], so you sit on a lot of useless money. The whole ‘crypto is permissionless and censorship-resistant’ thing is a bunch of bullshit.” (Knox suspects she has ended up on a blacklist at Plaid, a provider of technology plumbing to large crypto exchanges like Gemini, Kraken, and Robinhood, leading to the repeated bans. Freya Petersen, spokesperson for Plaid, says no such list exists, but that all firms that wish to use its services are subject to a standard risk assessment process, factoring in the industry in which they operate.)

Meanwhile, banks’ increasing unwillingness to work with crypto-related businesses is causing problems for firms trying to make it easier for sex workers to interface with the crypto world.

In February, SpankChain (a company to which Knox is an advisor) was forced to close its SpankPay service, which made it easy for creators to convert crypto into regular money, after payment processing firm Wyre terminated a partnership. The justification was that SpankChain had violated the terms of another company with which Wyre partnered, Checkout.com, which has tried to distance itself from the porn business.

WetSpace, a crypto-centric alternative to OnlyFans established by Rae, searched for months to find a bank willing to provide a business account, but was repeatedly rejected because of its ties to both the adult and crypto industries. “It was a double whammy,” says Rae. “We spoke to every dang bank there is.” Eventually, after appealing directly to the board of one bank, WetSpace managed to secure an account, but months later received a notice suggesting that support may soon be rescinded. The company is “riding on borrowed time,” explains Rae.

Without a banking partner, crypto firms cannot accept dollar deposits in return for services, or manage the conversion of crypto to dollars for clients, or pay their employees and vendors—they cannot function. The viability of the plan to develop a parallel financial system free of intermediaries is dependent, therefore, on a rapidly disintegrating truce with those same intermediaries: the banks and payments firms. For sex workers, as long as crypto cannot be used to pay for goods and services, its usefulness will remain limited, because it can be thwarted at the junction with conventional finance.

The efforts of sex work advocates are better invested, says Stabile, in campaigning for new laws that would make it illegal for banks to discriminate against sex workers on the basis of their profession, than in developing an alternative financial system. “The first step is banking stability,” he says.

There is broad sympathy for businesses facing banking access issues on both sides of the aisle, explains Stabile, who spent time in May meeting with members of the US Congress. The political right is concerned with the de-banking of gun manufacturers and oil companies, and the left with the treatment of cannabis businesses and marginalized workers. Lobbying groups like the FSC hope to capitalize on this accord, a rarity on Capitol Hill, to the benefit of the adult industry, even if legislation specific to the plight of sex workers is “too great a political hill right now.”

The biggest hurdle, explains Stabile, is the “snail’s pace” at which Congress moves. In April, Democratic Senator Jeff Merkley introduced the SAFE Banking Act, which calls for mandatory provision of banking services to legal cannabis businesses. In July, the Fair Access to Banking Act was tabled by Republican Senator Kevin Cramer, with the aim of penalizing banks that refuse to do business with law-abiding citizens. Neither bill has progressed beyond the point of initial introduction.

In the absence of real legislative progress, the adult industry will continue to exist “like a weed,” says Stabile, growing in “the cracks and hostile conditions that other businesses would never survive in, because it has to.” In crypto, sex workers found a temporary means of survival, but one whose billing as a permanent remedy proved to be inaccurate.

“Some sex workers might see crypto as a form of financial liberation,” says Van Meir. “But the majority probably just see it as a necessary evil—one among the few options they have left.”

[cyberbenb]

Investigation: How Russia profits from arms exports to Saudi Arabia despite sanctions

Few agreements are shrouded in more secrecy than inter-government arms deals — especially when one of the parties is a global pariah leading a bloody war.

But a recent massive leak of emails and documents has given us an unprecedented glimpse into a particularly secretive transaction.

The leak reveals that Saudi Arabia agreed to pay Russia over 2 billion euros under a contract signed in 2021 involving companies that were repeatedly sanctioned, both before and after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

Saudi Arabia doesn’t appear to have canceled the contract after the invasion started, despite the risk of repercussions from the U.S. — a major supplier of weapons to Saudi Arabia.

Data included in the leak also shows that Russia has continued to sell arms to up to a dozen countries since the start of its invasion of Ukraine, bolstering its defense production and war effort.

Apart from Saudi Arabia, the documents reveal contracts with traditional buyers of Russian weapons, such as India, China, or Algeria, none of which have stopped buying arms from Russia.

The Kyiv Independent, in partnership with OCCRP, obtained a leak containing thousands of internal emails of Roselectronics, a subsidiary of Russia’s state arms giant Rostec.

Arms exports have traditionally been one of Russia’s biggest sources of revenue, although far behind oil and gas. These revenues are now being used to support Russia’s war against Ukraine.

Sanctions imposed after the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine have significantly reduced the country’s arms exports. Still, Russia has managed to continue trade with a dozen countries that have not imposed sanctions on Moscow, making it the world’s third-largest weapons exporter in 2023.

The leak reveals the relentless efforts of Russian arms manufacturers to sustain exports during the war.

Exports help support Russia’s arms industry and fuel its war machine, despite numerous sanctions imposed over its assault on Ukraine. Analysts say the sales also serve as Russia’s “tool of influence,” strengthening its alliances and helping it secure votes at the United Nations. Russia may have even obtained access to Western weapons technologies through its arms sales to Saudi Arabia.

Decoding the secretive Project 82P

Even in internal documentation and letters, Russia maintains some secrecy when it comes to the foreign governments who buy their weapons.

As the leak shows, instead of directly naming the countries that purchase their military products, Russia uses a system that assigns a code to foreign countries, known in Russian as the “All-Russian Classifier of Countries of the World.”

For example, “foreign customer 012” stands for Algeria. In 2022, Russia was going to supply Algeria with its Acacia-E automatic aerospace defense system, according to the leak.

When reporting on deliveries of the Post-3M radio reconnaissance station to Iran in 2021, the letters describe the buyer as “foreign customer 364.”

When mentioning the supply of Polyana-D4M1 command and control system to Egypt, planned for 2025, they code the buyer as “foreign customer 818."

Yet not all the codes are so easy to decipher.

The leak contains a contract encoded in a special way — Project 82P. There is no such country code as “82P,” and the client country isn’t mentioned in almost any of the letters that concerned the project. It appears that this contract was more sensitive than others.

“All the information related to interaction with the foreign customer specified in the contract is subject to restriction,” one of the letters on Project 82P reads. It also says that to keep the details of the contract secret, Russia planned to sign separate confidentiality agreements with the banks involved in the project.

Having analyzed hundreds of letters mentioning Project 82P, the Kyiv Independent can confirm that this code stands for an agreement with Saudi Arabia to supply Pantsir air defense systems. The “82” is a part of the country code for Saudi Arabia (682), and the letter “P” could be referring to the product name — Pantsir.

Within the contract, the Russian side was to supply Saudi Arabia with the Russian Pantsir-S1M system and provide additional services related to it.

The Pantsir is a self-propelled air defense missile and gun system. It can shoot down missiles, airplanes, helicopters, aerial bombs, and drones.

The system itself is a large truck equipped with missiles and anti-aircraft guns, which can be used alone or in battery together with a command post and radar truck.

It recently gained notoriety, as a Russian Pantsir-S battery is alleged to have brought down the Azerbaijan Airlines flight on Dec. 25, killing 38 people.

A view of the crash site where an Azerbaijan Airlines plane with 67 people on board, traveling from Baku, Azerbaijan, to Grozny in Russia’s Chechen Republic crashed near the city of Aktau in Kazakhstan, on Dec. 25, 2024. (Emergency Situations of Kazakhstan/Anadolu via Getty Images)

2 billion euros for Russian military production

While the deal was secret, some evidence surfaced in 2024 that Saudi Arabia obtained Russia’s Pantsir systems.

In February 2024, a photo appeared online showing a man, allegedly a Saudi soldier, posing next to a Pantsir with a training certificate in his hand. At the end of the year, the Saudi Air Defense’s Bulletin listed the Pantsir among its new air defense systems. No other details were provided.

With the leaked Roselectronics emails, the Kyiv Independent can piece together how Saudi Arabia obtained the Russian air defense systems.

The emails reveal not only the high value of the contract but also how Saudi money flows directly to Russian military companies united under the Rostec brand.

According to the leaked documents, Saudi Arabia agreed to pay 2.17 billion euros for the supply of Pantsir batteries, additional equipment and ammunition, and the training of operators.

A battery is a military tactical unit consisting of several pieces of artillery working together. A Pantsir battery usually includes up to six pieces.

According to various references to the contract found in the leaked emails, Saudi Arabia ordered anywhere from six to 10 Pantsir batteries.

Newly revealed details of the Saudi-Russian contract

In more detail, the contract description includes 39 combat vehicles, 10 command post units, nine radio command vehicles, 20 loader vehicles, hundreds of missiles, and tens of thousands of cartridges.

To maintain the Pantsirs, Saudi Arabia also ordered seven repair vehicles, five evacuation trucks, seven fuel servicing trucks, seven storage and transportation vehicles, and other equipment.

They bought various simulators to train the Saudi military and planned three training rounds.

The contract was signed on April 8, 2021, and was expected to last 58 months — that is, until 2026.

The Saudi Defense Ministry made an advance payment of 15% of the contract, or 326 million euros, on Aug. 5, 2021, feeding the Russian military machine with cash just six months before Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

Delivery of the first batch of the air defense systems and related equipment was scheduled for the end of 2023.

International trade records found in the ImportGenius database show that at the end of November 2023, Rosoboronexport made two shipments of four units of “new special purpose motor vehicles” to Saudi Arabia. The description is vague but the trademark of the vehicles, the names of Russian shippers and a Saudi consignee, and the cargo delivery point — an air defense base in Jeddah — indicate that the vehicles were supplied under the Pantsir contract.

The leaked Russian documents also show how many subsidiaries of the Russian arms conglomerate Rostec, which is sanctioned by many countries for its role in the war against Ukraine, benefit from the Pantsir exports.

Here’s how Saudi money moved through the Russian arms holding. The advance payment went from the Saudi Defense Ministry to Rosoboronexport.

This state company, a part of the Rostec conglomerate, acts as an intermediary for all of Russia’s military exports and imports, receives payments, takes a commission for contract management, and subsequently transfers the rest of the money to the contractors.

Following receipt of the advance payment, Rosoboronexport distributed the bulk of the funds to state-owned Russian arms producers — Shipunov Design Bureau, known as the developer of the Pantsir complex, United Instrument Manufacturing Corporation (also known under its Russian acronym, OPK), the managing company of the Roselectronics holding, Sozvezdie Concern, the Scientific Research Institute of Communication and Automated Control Systems (NIISSU), the truck producer KAMAZ’ subsidiary Remdizel and others.

Each entity has a role in the contract. For example, OPK has been appointed as the radio command vehicles supplier, while Sozvezdie Concern and NIISSU are its main co-executors. Russian KAMAZ and its subsidiary Remdizel produce the chassis for the system.

All these companies are currently subject to numerous international sanctions either for their role in the deployment of Russian military technologies on the battlefield in Ukraine or for providing a substantial source of revenue to the Russian government during the war.

Rosoboronexport has also been repeatedly subject to U.S. sanctions within a nonproliferation program against Iran, Syria, and North Korea. The latest Iran-related sanctions were imposed on Rosoboronexport in 2023. Rostec was subject to U.S. sanctions before 2022, including for its connection with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2014 and military cooperation with China.

Sanctions on Rostec companies involved in the production and supply of the Pantsir system. (Lisa Kukharska / The Kyiv Independent)

The transfer of Russian technology to Saudi Arabia

According to the leak, the delivery of Pantsir batteries and additional equipment is only part of the 82P Project.

In addition to the 2-billion-euro contract, the documents describing the project mention a second major part of the cooperation. The contract for it, even three contracts, was not yet signed in the first half of 2022, but was already being discussed.

This includes localizing Russian Pantsir systems production in Saudi Arabia, establishing maintenance centers in the country, and creating a training center.

The future localization of production was Saudi Arabia’s requirement to sign the first contract to supply air defense systems.

A leaked letter titled “Localization Plan” contains a 69-page document entitled Proposal for the Localization of the Pantsir-S1M Complex Production. The proposal includes three localization programs.

The first describes the large-scale assembly of 15 Pantsir batteries in Saudi Arabia.

The second localization program establishes a network of service centers for Pantsir maintenance (five regional and one central repair workshop).

The third program involves building a training center in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia’s second-largest city and “economic capital.” The center would require the construction of a 15,000-square-metre study building.

Although none of the three contracts had been signed during the time period covered by the leak, the leaked documents mentioned that Saudi Arabia was ready to sign the assembling production contract in the second half of 2022.

If the contracts were indeed signed, Russia could receive even more than 2 billion euros from Saudi Arabia over the next few years.

Russia’s war with Ukraine, though, could have affected the fate of any joint Pantsir assembly in Saudi Arabia, as the war has allegedly already affected a couple of other Russian export contracts.

“There was a report that Russia had taken away the shells made for Azerbaijan because it needed them in the war against Ukraine,” Ivan Kirichevsky, an analyst at Defense Express, reported. “Another report indicates that Russian T-90S export tanks intended to be sold to India, Algeria, or Vietnam were also spotted on the battlefield in Ukraine. So there are some doubts as to whether Russians can reach the next stage of the Saudi contract — the organization of joint production. They are now highly dependent on imports of various equipment and electronic components. This may affect co-production arrangements."

A pathway to Western military tech

The Pantsir contract carries with it the risk of Russia becoming familiar with Western technologies through its cooperation with Saudi Arabia. The country is a major buyer of U.S. weaponry and buys arms from South Korea and EU countries, including air defense systems.

“Saudi Arabia is one of the major operators of Patriot systems. Whether the Russians could have gained access to them is a sensitive issue,” said Ivan Kirichevsky, an analyst at Defense Express, a Kyiv-based military think tank. “The U.S. has demonstrated that it is sensitive to the risk of transferring its technology to third parties.”

Kirichevsky cites the example of Turkey. In 2020, four months before the Russian-Saudi agreement was signed, the U.S. slapped sanctions on Turkey over a purchase of the Russian S-400 missile system.

The risk of Russians accessing U.S. technology is high since the Project 82P also includes “integration” services, meaning integrating the Pantsir complex into Saudi Arabia’s command, communications, and intelligence system.

Russia’s President Vladimir Putin and Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman hold a meeting in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, on Dec. 6, 2023. (Sergei Savostyanov / Pool / AFP via Getty Images)

Those services would be performed by Russian specialists, who could obtain access to the existing Saudi arsenal, which is stuffed with U.S. weapons.

Moreover, Russia appeared to have asked for this access.

In October 2021, some six months after signing the contract, Saudi Arabia’s representatives met with the Russian side in Moscow to discuss the execution of Project 82P. The Kyiv Independent found the meeting’s minutes in Russian companies’ emails.

The emails mention an upcoming trip by Russian representatives to Jeddah in Saudi Arabia, scheduled for May 2022. While discussing the meeting, the Russian side requested to visit Saudi air defense facilities — and received consent. They started making preparations for the trip like booking the hotel, car rental, and buying tickets.

The obtained email leak covers the time up until May 2022, the same month when the trip was supposed to take place. While the Kyiv Independent can’t confirm that the trip took place, there was no sign it was canceled either.

The Saudi Defense Ministry did not respond to a written inquiry from the Kyiv Independent.

Why is Russia selling air defense while waging war with Ukraine?

Russia’s efforts show it’s highly interested in selling arms and military technology abroad, despite its massive need for weapons for its war against Ukraine.  

According to one of the leaked letters, in June 2022, four months after the start of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, state arms exporter Rosoboronexport held a three-day meeting with arms manufacturers in St. Petersburg. The event was private, with no public mentions of it.

The topic was promoting Russia’s anti-unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) equipment “with high export potential.” A Rosoboronexport representative held a presentation on how export sales could be boosted.

Two months later, in August 2022, Rosoboronexport hosted a different event, this time a public one. Its seven-day International Military-Technical Forum aimed to secure new arms sales contracts. It reportedly attracted delegations from 50 countries.

Local media made no secret of Russia’s efforts to interest foreign delegations in a wide range of military products, including tanks, armored vehicles, UAVs and anti-UAVs, air defense systems, rifles, mortars, and fighter aircraft. Similar events were held in 2023 and 2024 and are planned for 2025.

Trying so hard to sell weapons abroad while leading a resource-demanding war may seem like an odd thing to do but there are at least two good reasons for Russia to pursue it: high export revenue and strengthening geopolitical ties.

Arms under export contracts are traditionally sold at a higher price than those supplied to the domestic army.

“The policy of arms export contracts is always the same: You sell your products to someone for export at a premium to supply your army at a lower cost,” said Kirichevsky, an analyst at Defense Express. “The price of the 2 billion euros for six Pantsir batteries seems very high, even when it includes additional equipment and training for the military."

Although Russia’s export capacity started crumbling after the start of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, it remained a significant exporter of military products. The Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) compared data on Russian arms exports for two periods: 2014-2018 and 2019-2023. The institute found that, between those two periods, the volume of Russian arms exports fell by 53%. The number of countries willing to buy Russian arms has also decreased, but 12 countries were still buying Russian weapons in 2023.

Leaked letters show that Rosoboronexport received new export inquiries after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

In spring 2022, soon after the world learned about the Russian massacre of civilians in Ukraine’s Bucha and other places, the Russian defense conglomerate received new inquiries from potential clients.

The leaked emails show that Armenia inquired about a possible delivery of the Ranzhir-M1, a command center unit for air defense systems. Meanwhile, Venezuela was interested in Pishchal-Pro and Kupol complexes, the systems that take down unmanned aerial vehicles, or UAVs.

The Kyiv Independent was unable to find confirmation of such deliveries in public sources, or in the customs records available through leaks.

Russia also continued to work on executing contracts signed in previous years. There are no mentions of any contracts canceled by either side after the start of the invasion.

In 2022, Rostec worked on contracts with China, India, Algeria, Egypt, Belarus, and several other countries, all of which continued to receive military supplies from Russia after its full-scale invasion of Ukraine and new sanctions against the Russian defense companies.

Experts say that Russia is motivated to sell its weapons abroad not only by money but by the prospect of establishing or strengthening of geopolitical ties.  

“Russia sees arms sales as another tool of statecraft. It’s a tactic,” Anna Borshchevskaya, a senior fellow with the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, says. “It’s not independent of foreign policy, and so arms sales will strengthen bilateral ties between countries on a political level. It’s a tool of influence from the Russian perspective."

According to Agiya Zagrebelska, a Ukrainian sanctions expert and representative of the NGO Economic Security Council of Ukraine, the result of such ties can be seen in the countries' votes at the UN.

Although the allegiance to Russia is not as clear as in the case of Belarus, China, or Iran, Saudi Arabia has abstained from more than half of the UN votes for resolutions on Russia’s war against Ukraine. (See the chart)

How countries buying Russian weapons vote at the UN. (Lisa Kukharska / The Kyiv Independent)

On the one hand, the country voted for the withdrawal of Russian troops from Ukraine. However, it abstained from voting on resolutions on the suspension of Russia’s rights of membership in the Human Rights Council and on remedy and reparation for aggression against Ukraine.

Saudi Arabia has also helped to free foreigners imprisoned by the Russian military and brought together 42 countries in Jeddah to find ways to end the Russian war in Ukraine. It has also allegedly threatened the G7 against seizing Russia’s frozen assets, according to Bloomberg’s sources.

The country has also promised to provide Ukraine with $400 million in humanitarian aid while pledging billions to Russia’s military enterprises.

Yet even with rich clients like Saudi Arabia, the volume of Russia’s arms exports has fallen in recent years.

Due to Western sanctions, it has become both difficult and costly for Russia to import Western equipment and electronic components it still needs for defense production. Some reports also suggest that Russia deployed some of the weapons meant for export to the front line in Ukraine.

This makes Russia an increasingly problematic supplier.

Note from the author:

Hey! This is Alisa Yurchenko, the author of this story. Thank you for reading it.

I spent the past two months reading leaked internal correspondence of Russian state defense companies. The letters were scattered and out of order, so I had to reconstruct their timeline like a jigsaw puzzle.

But it was all worth it. I was glad to reveal how many sanctioned Russian military companies profit from a major arms export deal.

Understanding this is crucial as such deals bolster Russian defense industry and the country’s geopolitical standing — all while Russia is waging a full-scale war.

We are not done with this particular leak, however. We are still analyzing it and will soon share insights about Russia’s efforts to source foreign components for its defense industry.

Please consider supporting the Kyiv Independent by becoming a member or making a one-time donation. It is our readers’ support that makes our work possible. Thank you!

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 8

Look at you lucky ducks! Two WIP Wednesday excerpts today! I'm afraid you won't be able to get used to it. Going forward I may update each fic on alternating weeks. I have a busy few months coming up if everything goes to plan and could use the buffer in case I can't get much writing done. We'll see, though.

I'm going to start leaving a fic summary at the beginning of every excerpt in case people find this in the wild and want to know what they're getting into.

Summary: Danny is finally going to meet Jazz's boyfriend Jason. At Jason's family's mansion. He spent weeks making sure he could have an evening off of any Ghost King business. But when he meets Jason on the steps of the mansion, he can barely pay attention to the guy because his focus is on the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off his shoulders. Who is very happy to find someone who can actually see him.

Word Count: 1.4k

First, Previous

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“Right. Um… Well, I do just kinda do whatever is necessary or find someone who can. Because, um, well, I’m… kinda the High King of the Infinite Realms? There’s a bunch more titles after that but I refuse to memorize them because ugh.”

Danny looked down at his plate, not wanting to see everyone’s reactions. Jazz must’ve made sure he got a piece of pie because it sat in front of him. It looked so good. Did they even know about the Infinite Realms? Justice League Dark members did, but did Batman? Jazz reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Tim and Barbara’s typing seemed to get faster. And then a pair of pixie boots and legs settled on the table next to his plate. He looked up and met Robin’s eyes.

Robin reached out an poked Danny on the nose. He gave a little trill of safe, friends drawing a smile out of Danny.

At the same time, Duke exclaimed, “That’s why you have a crown!”

And Steph said, “Okay, I may be out of the loop, but what the hell are the Infinite Realms?”

Damian snorted. “Aren’t you too young to be a king of anything?”

Danny half stood. “Look, do you want to go spar or something? Is that why you keep picking fights? Because we can do that. Fighting is good for young liminals. But I really don’t think this is the time or place.”

Jazz groaned and dragged him back into his seat. “Stop it, Danny. You’re on Earth right now.” Speaking over Danny’s protests, she explained to Damian, “We wish. Managed to get them to delay until he turned eighteen at least, but his grandfather wouldn’t let us wait any longer than that.”

Danny let the fight drop, but he did notice how Damian’s grip on his spoon tightened. Looked like they would be having that spar tonight if Damian had anything to say about it. Still, Jazz was right and he had to follow human customs on Earth so he bumped his sister’s shoulder and spoke to her instead. “You know as well as I do that he would’ve if it was possible. But thanks to Pariah, there are things that haven’t been done in a thousand years and it’s been causing so many problems.”

“Steph,” said Barbara. “The Infinite Realms are the spaces between universes according to Constantine. His documentation states that the Realm’s inhabitants are all incredibly overpowered and should not be approached under any circumstances. Just one being can evade all methods of capture with standard supplies.”

Jazz nodded. “And our parents dedicated their lives to building a portal to the Infinite Realms, or the Ghost Zone as they call it, and destroying all ghosts.”

“By ‘ghosts,’” asked Bruce, “Do you mean beings from these Infinite Realms?”

Jazz nodded. “Yes. Most beings from the Infinite Realms come into being when a living creature dies in a traumatic way, with a lot of emotion, or near a large source of ectoplasm. Usually some combination of all three.”

Both Tim and Bruce tried to ask further questions, but Jason’s voice cut in over theirs. “Jazz, when you say your parents wanted to ‘destroy all ghosts,’ did they stop after Danny’s accident?” Jason’s question did, at least, cause silence to fall as everyone stared at the two siblings.

Jazz looked down and gripped the tablecloth tightly, jaw clenched. Now it was Danny’s turn to lay a comforting hand over hers.

“No,” Danny said. “They didn’t. They didn’t know what happened for several years and when they found out… Well, there’s a reason I can’t use their last name and Jazz won’t call them ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’ anymore. But”—Danny clapped his hands—“this is a great segway into what is actually important. Does the Justice League know about the Guys in White? More formally known as the Ghost Investigation Ward? Or even just GIW?”

“That name is unfamiliar to me,” said Bruce.

Tim agreed. “Babs and I aren’t seeing anything in the JL databases.”

Even Robin just shrugged.

Danny didn’t expect the jolt of pain that sent through his chest and Jazz turned their hands around until they were gripping each other’s hands with more force than any baseline human would’ve been able to.

“I told you, Danny. They didn’t know. They didn’t know.” Her eyes were wet, but she forced a shaky smile. “You could’ve had help.”

Danny just shook his head. “Even if I had believed they didn’t know… Without meeting them, without knowing how many of their own were in danger, I would’ve never trusted them. Too many people rely on me for me to risk it.”

“Care to enlighten the rest of us?” asked Dick. His posture was relaxed, but his voice had an edge that hadn’t been there earlier.

Robin nodded from where he sat staring at Danny. He sent out a questioning Danger? pulse at Danny.

“Yeah, danger,” agreed Danny. “Barbara, Tim, if I give you a law code number, can you pull up the law I’m referring to?”

“Of course,” agreed Barbara. “Just a moment… And shoot.”

Danny gave them the code for the Anti-Ecto Acts. “The Guys in White are the government agency responsible for enforcing the Anti-Ecto Acts which classify all ‘ectoplasmic entities’”—he made the air quotes—“as non-sentient and non-sapient and excludes us from the metahuman protection acts.”

“What the fuck!” shouted Duke.

Next to Danny, Dick suddenly was sitting up tense. “That’s impossible.”

“The league would’ve noticed such an act being passed,” said Damian, though he didn’t look as sure as his words would seem.

Cass merely tilted her head and looked at him while Steph choked on her drink.

Bruce looked to Tim and Barbara. “Is this true?” he asked them.

Robin pointed to himself and mouthed the word ‘Me?’ at Danny.

“I’m afraid so. And Bruce, Cass, Steph, and Damian as well.”

Dick’s spluttering got louder. “How are they all in danger?” he demanded to know.

Before Danny could reply, Tim was speaking. “It’s all true. And far worse than Danny implied. Not only are ecto-entities not protected by the metahuman protection laws, but they are to be actively hunted and turned over to the GIW for experimentation and extermination and anyone who assists them is declared guilty of treason.”

“When did they pass?” asked Bruce.

“Four years ago,” said Barbara. “While Luthor was president. They were hidden in some laws about green energy.”

“Ghost are made of ectoplasm,” explained Jazz. “Ectoplasm is a fantastic energy source.”

“It happened a few months after I defeated the previous king but before my coronation,” added Danny.

“Why do you think myself, Damian, Cass, Stephanie, and Jason will be targeted by this Ghost Investigation Ward?”

“It’ll be easier to show you.” Danny reached down and pulled up his bag. The thing was made in Pandora’s realm and was bigger on the inside. Once open, it took him a moment to find what he was looking for. He could see Robin signing to the group next to him. “Here we are,” Danny said as he pulled out three devices. “These are all different ectoplasm detection devices. One is my own design, one is the Guys in White’s design, and one is my parent’s design. I’ll show you mine first because it’s the best.”

“Might be a dumb question,” started Dick, “but what the hell is ectoplasm?”

“So you know how all the elements in this universe came about from nuclear fusion of hydrogen in the cores of stars?” asked Danny. When most everyone nodded, he continued, “In the Infinite Realms, that base element is ectoplasm. But there’s no need for a star to transform it into anything else. It will mold to the shape any consciousness that interacts with it wants. When sentient creatures slip through, either by a portal or through death or any other means, they shape the part of the Realm they’re in to their will. The stronger the ghost, the larger the area they control.” Holding out his hands, Danny called forth a ball of ectoplasm, shaping it into a glowing-green ice duck. “Something like this,” he commented grinning around the table.

Only to be met with horrified looks as most of the table were staring at his hands with distrust. Damian had his knife out again. Jason, his gun with the other arm held protectively in front of Jazz. Bruce was standing and Cass tense.

“What’s wrong?” asked Danny. “It’s just an ice duck sculpture. Completely harmless.”

Jason’s voice was low and threatening. “It’s an ice duck made of Lazarus water.”

More alarming than his voice was the way his eyes glowed ecto-green and the fear-anger that filled the room.

----------

Next

Challenge: Stay on one topic for more than two sentences.

Outcome: Failed.

They keep getting side tracked with more questions. And Danny still hasn't had a bite of his pie. This evening will never be over.

Tag List Part 1

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

Looks like 50 is the limit for active user tags in a post. Good to know

[gaddaboutgriffon]

dp x dc Rrevival brothers.

thought I would try my hand at this Danny phantom, Bat family crossover thing too. 1 this crossover happens after Danny defeated Pariah Dark, but before his parents learn that Danny is Phantom. Danny was adopted by the Fentons when he was a baby/toddler. he is actually Jason's half-brother having the same biological father but a different mother. 2 The Fenton family go to a ghost hunter convention in Gotham and due to a certain incense making him nauseous he excuses himself and goes exploring the city in ghost mode invisible. normally he only fights ghosts but upon finding some upset shades follows them to a hostage situation, that Nightwing is trying to work on but is calling for back up. He uses his abilities to distract the criminals giving Nightwing the opening he needed. after the hostages are safe Phantom briefly helps Nightwing fight/incapacitate the criminals and then chat for a bit on the rooftops. During the conversation Nightwing is analyzing the kid, and getting a sense that there may be parental neglect issues. but before he can probe into that Phantom gets a text and then quickly takes off. a minute after that Nightwing gets a message from Oracle that Jason is being attacked by a mob from a ghost hunter convention and takes off to help his adopted brother. 3 the text Danny got was from his sister stating that some guy in a red helmet set off the ghost sensors at the convention and that the ghost hunters are all trying to go after him. when Danny gets there, he finds Red Hood getting to the point that he is considering switching from rubber bullets to real ones. Danny (and when he gets there Nightwing) distracts the ghost hunters and helps Hood get away. Nightwing and Hood sees the Fentons shooting to kill at Phantom. Latter after he has slipped away from the hunters he goes and finds Hood since he wanted to talk to him and before he gets a word out notices that Hood is suffering from very contaminated ectoplasm. (aka the Lazarus pit water.) Hood is skeptical but if there is something to stop him from relapsing in Pit Madness he is willing to listen. Night wing has similar thoughts but is more willing to have them try it. Danny says he will have to get some equipment but will meet with them latter. Nightwing slips a tracker onto him and has oracle watch the kid through the street cameras. 4 Danny gets back to the hotel and his parents glorified RV and gets to work grabbing a couple jars of purified ectoplasm, and a device he and jazz made to help separate out contaminated ectoplasm. but while he was gathering things, he hears his parents coming and de-transforms. and that is when the tracker starts working and oracle can get a good look at the kid. (Seeing the black hair and blue eyes she mutters something about adoption bait) After Jack and Maddie leave, he transforms again and takes off to the meeting place to red hood and Nightwing. Oracle is making notes and tells Nightwing that the parents probably don't know he has "meta" powers or that he has a secret identity. Nightwing is concerned as he had seen them shooting at the kid when he was in Phantom mode. Oracle says she will check if there is anything in the Child services data base for any past reported complaints and the com goes quiet as Danny Phantom arrives with his backpack of supplies.

I love replies. Especially when you add your own ideas.

[bibliophilea]

The End - Ch. 1

Happy Holiday Truce, @mystyrust! Sorry to make you wait - I wanted to do something big, but I forgot to take into account two things: I am a slow writer, and this story became too big to handle as a oneshot. I do have big ideas for where I want this story to go, but we'll see how the story builds itself as I write! Happy Holidays!

If elements of this story seem familiar, that’s because they are! This is based on @lexosaurus‘s tags on @dannys-phucking-dead‘s post! I hope you enjoy!

ffn | ao3

>1< 2 3 4 ...

"Listen. I've met a lot of great asteroids. Really fantastic asteroids. And they've all told me themselves — they said that I was a great president. All of them said that — all one hundred thousand asteroids. I was there."

The camera switches to Tiffany Snow, sitting at the anchor desk.

"This is what President Drumpf had to say yesterday regarding NASA's claims that an unforeseen asteroid is approximately 21 days from hitting the Earth, creating an extinction-level event on par with what took out the dinosaurs," Snow states with a cheerful smile. "Polls suggest that approximately 48.2% of the population believe NASA's claims to be a hoax; 29.5% believe it's the end of the world; and 22.3% is undecided. Lance, can you tell us a bit about Amity Park's response to NASA's claims?"

The camera switches to a street view outside of Amity Park's capitol building. People crowd the streets, many of them yelling and holding signs. Some signs read "THE END IS NIGH". Others say "ASTEROID SHMASTEROID". A few say "DEFUND NASA". One sign says "[citation needed]".

"Certainly, Tiffany," Lance Thunder replies, nearly shouting over the crowd. "As you can see here, tensions are high in Amity Park. Citizens gather to make their voices heard amidst NASA's claims of doom and gloom. Hey, Bob, what do you think of NASA's statement?"

Thunder turns to a middle aged man beside him wearing a bright red cap. The man bends to put his face by the microphone Thunder is brandishing.

"It's fake news, is what it is! I mean, come on! How does a freaking asteroid come out of nowhere? It's a China conspiracy, I tell you!"

Bob nods, and Thunder takes back the microphone. "Well, you heard it here, folks. Amity Park's citizens think NASA's claims are a ho—"

"THE END IS NIGH!"

A woman wearing a sign with the same message butts in, snatching the microphone from Thunder.

"The Disasteroid cometh for us all! Soon it will be Judgement Day and all of you Non Believers will be found Wanting!"

Thunder squawks. "Hey! That is APN property! Give that back!"

The camera turns to focus on Thunder and the woman as they fight over the microphone, their squabbling barely audible over the feedback. Then the feed cuts back to Tiffany Snow.

"Wow Lance, looks like no one can break Amity Park's spirit," Snow says with a grin. "In other news, Congress has voted to defund NASA—"

The TV clicks off.

Danny carefully puts down the remote before he allows himself to shake. His fists clench, and he hides them under folded arms, lest they be seen bursting into ectoplasmic flame. His face feels taut, teeth clenched, eyes abnormally dry. Toxic green edges his vision, and he clamps his eyes shut, lest they be seen glowing green with his anger.

And oh, he is angry.

NASA is a world leader in space aviation and exploration, and Congress is defunding them. And for what? Because they told the truth? Because there's a humongous asteroid about to hit the Earth? They should be funneling emergency money towards NASA, not taking money away! The world needs NASA, now more than ever! Danny has seen the images NASA shared — the images the media doesn't dare share, lest the wrath of one President Drumpf befall them. He doesn't know how everyone missed it — it's huge and it's glowing green and no stars glow green like that — but now that everyone knows about it, there should be some sort of plan to stop it, right? Wrong! The president says it's fake news, and Congress follows suit, and the biggest space programs in the world can't agree on what to do about it when half the world doesn't even think it's real and oh god we're gonna die like actually 100% die and it's not ghosts it's not Pariah Dark it's a big fucking SPACE ROCK that's going to do us in for good and there'll be no more habitable Earth and no more Ghost Zone and we're all going to DIE—

A hand touches Danny's knee, and he gasps, eyes flying open, cringing away from the contact.

Through the green haze in his vision he sees bright orange and immediately shuts his eyes again. They can't see, can't see him freak out, can't see his powers freak out with him—

The hand touches his knee again, and he freezes at the touch, body tense, teeth clenched, eyes shut tight. Another hand touches his arm and he takes in a breath, shuddering as the hand slowly moves to his shoulder, and then to his back, rubbing large, soothing circles. Danny tries to time his breathing to the circles, like Jazz had taught him to, and slowly the blood rushing in his ears (when had that happened?) quiets to a dull roar.

"There we go Danny, see, just breathe. You're okay. You're at home, and Mom and Dad are out, and you don't have to hide."

Danny uncurls slightly at the sound of his sister's voice. He opens his eyes a crack — just enough to see past the green haze — and really looks this time. The orange isn't the same shade as his dad's jumpsuit — it's a lighter, more natural color, and it surrounds a face with concerned, green eyes. Jazz. Jazz is here, and she has her hand on his knee, and she's rubbing circles into his back, and he's kind of sort of getting the hang of breathing with the rhythm of those circles. He leans into her, and she bundles him into a hug, still rubbing circles into his back.

The front door opens, and Danny and Jazz both freeze. Jazz said Mom and Dad are out, but what if they're back? They can't see him like this, they'll find out!

Danny has half a mind to just turn invisible when their voices hit his ears.

"Man, dude, did you see what Congress did to NASA? That's so unfair!"

"It's totally unfair! They're just telling the truth! This whole administration is the absolute worst!"

Tucker. Sam. Danny relaxes slightly at their voices, but he doesn't turn around — doesn't want them to see him like this, either.

But it's too late.

"Woah, dude, you okay?"

"Danny!"

He hears them rush over to him — feels their worry and the warmth of their bodies as they get close — and tenses up again. He should be better than this, stronger than this! He shouldn't be freaking out about some dumb news report.

Not just a dumb news report, his brain helpfully supplies. We're all going to die. And there's nothing you can do about it.

All of a sudden, Jazz's embrace feels too tight. To constraining. Trapping him where he is.

He slips intangible and flees from Jazz, flees from his friends — flees upwards, up through the ceiling and through the roof and through the Ops Center, flees until there's no more house to flee from. He lands hard on the roof of the Ops Center, scraping his knees but it doesn't matter, hands scorching the metal but who cares, it's just the end of the world—

He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his head in them, his face screwing as he tries to get a hold of himself, tries to rein himself in, it's just the end of the world, just the end of Mom and Dad and Jazz and Sam and Tucker and school and movies and parks and people and everything and everyone he'd ever tried to protect—

"Bite this."

Danny feels something cool touch his lips, and he bites down — then coughs and spits as bitter rind and sour citrus burst in his mouth.

He looks up to see Tucker triumphantly brandishing a whole lemon with a chunk bitten out of it. Sam and Jazz stand to either side of him, varying levels of worry and amusement fighting for dominance in their faces. Danny spits again, and stares at the bits of rind and lemon pulp that vacate his mouth.

"What the hell?"

"Told you it'd work!" Tucker crows.

"A lemon?" Danny splutters.

"It's an... unorthodox grounding technique," Jazz responds, "and it normally isn't administered like that—"

"Point is, it works," Sam interjects. "How're you feeling?"

Danny stares at the three of them for a moment. Then he sighs and chuckles darkly. "The worlds going to end because too many people don't believe NASA about an asteroid hurtling towards Earth, and Tucker made me bite into a lemon. How am I supposed to feel?"

He sighs again, long, hard, and shuddering, and he lets himself fall backwards onto the warm metal of the Ops Center roof. Jazz lies down across from him, and Sam and Tucker lie to either side of him, all their heads nearly touching. The sky above them is bright blue, clear of clouds. Birds flit across Danny's vision, twittering as they chase each other before flying off to who knows where. Does it even matter? They'll all be dead in a few weeks.

"I don't want to die again."

The words slip from his mouth, and he feels his breath hitch, watches as his vision goes blurry. His hands begin to clench into fists — but then Sam and Tucker take his hands, massaging the tension from his fingers and palms, and Jazz runs her hand through his hair like she used to do when they were kids and he'd had a nightmare, and something in him breaks.

A sob wrenches itself from his throat, and he curls in on himself. His sister and friends move to hold him close, and he can't help but lean into their touch. They hold him as his eyes glow green, as his hands fist into the metal of the roof, as his sobs take on a ghostly tinge, nearly wailing his grief and his anger and his fear into the sky. He shudders as he cries, and feels as they shudder with him — feels as Sam and Tucker push their faces into his shirt, and as Jazz buries her face in his hair — feels as his shirt and his head where their faces lie become damp.

Crying. They're crying.

And it's his fault.

A wave of guilt washes over him, and he wants to pull away again, wants to force himself to stop crying, to be strong for them. But their grips on him tighten, and they speak to him, words warped by their own tears. "Just let it out," Tucker mutters into his back. "It's okay to cry," Sam whispers into his shoulder. "You don't have to hide," Jazz repeats into his hair.

But beneath their words, beneath their tight hold on him and the way they push their faces against him is a hidden plea: "Stay," they say.

Please stay.

So Danny stays.

Danny stays, and they cry together, and the sun shines down upon them from the clear blue sky.

*~*~*

Danny doesn't know how long it's been. Only that he's no longer crying, and that his friends and sister are no longer crying. They've melted into a cuddle pile of four, with Danny at the center, and the sun beats down on them from a different angle than before. Danny has wound up with his head in Jazz's lap, and she's playing with his hair. Sam and Tucker are on top of him, still holding his hands. Their weight is comforting.

Danny is exhausted. He just wants to fall asleep and deal with everything later. Crying in front of your friends and sister will do that, his brain helpfully supplies. So will the end of the world.

He sighs heavily and moves to sit up. Sam and Tucker get off him, still holding his hands, and Jazz helps him up, moving from playing with his hair to rubbing circles on his back. He smiles faintly at all of them.

"Thanks, guys," he whispers hoarsely. He really does have the best friends and best sister in the world.

Too bad they're all going to die in three weeks.

He frowns and sighs again, too tired to cry.

"It's heavy stuff, huh," Jazz says gently. Danny looks back at her, an eyebrow raised. She continues. "The thought of everything ending like that — it's really hard to think about. Hell, I'm having trouble processing it." She smiles gently at him. "It's okay to be scared and angry, and it's okay to be scared and angry in front of us. You don't have to hide."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Danny mutters. "No more running away."

"Good," Sam remarks. "Now, what are we going to do about everything?"

"What do you mean?" Danny asks.

"You know. The asteroid?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah. That." Danny frowns down at the roof of the Ops Center. The metal is warped and singed where his hands had dug into it. "What are we supposed to do about that?" He looks back up at Sam. Her eyes bear into his, and her grip on his hand tightens.

"Look, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."

Danny frowns at her. He opens his mouth to respond, but Tucker gets there first.

"Look, I know we need to have this conversation, I really do. But can we have it inside? The metal's starting to get really hot." Tucker stands up, rubbing his free hand on his jeans from touching the roof.

Danny sighs and stands up, stretching the kinks from his back. Sam and Jazz stand up with him.

"On it," Danny says. "Everyone hold tight."

He feels Sam's and Tucker's grips tighten on his hands, and he feels Jazz grab his shoulder. With a poke at his core, he tugs them all intangible, slipping through the roof to the refreshingly cool interior of the Ops Center. He lets go of intangibility and lets gravity embrace them slowly, gently depositing them all on the floor of the Ops Center. Then he lets go of his friends' hands and steps forwards, turning so he's facing the three of them.

"So, what are we supposed to do, huh? Half the world thinks the asteroid's a hoax, and the other half either doesn't have the money to do anything, or is stuck in petty arguments about what to do and who's to blame and all that shit." Danny crosses his arms and frowns.

"Dude, you're the Ghost King," Tucker's quick to reply. "Doesn't that mean you can, like, do anything?"

Danny facepalms. "Oh my god, Tucker, I'm not the Ghost King. I told the Observants I don't want any part of it. And besides, even if I were, who's going to listen to me? Klemper? The Box Ghost? I'm sure they can convince the world to get its shit together!"

"Hey!" Sam interjects. "You can't just focus on what we can't do. We need to focus on what we can do, as a team."

"Oh, and what can we do, Sam? We're way out of our depth here! The four of us can't stop the asteroid from hitting Earth!"

"You're right, Danny," Jazz says. Sam and Tucker gape at her.

"But dude—"

"You can't just—"

"Hey, let me speak!" Jazz waits until Sam and Tucker close their mouths — Tucker with a perplexed look on his face, Sam with an expectant frown.

"We are out of our depth," Jazz states. "We don't have the resources or political pull here on Earth or in the Ghost Zone to make a significant difference." She pauses. "But we know someone who does."

It takes a moment, but Sam gets it first.

"Oh, ew, we are not asking him for help!"

"Wait." Tucker says. "Asking who for—" horror dawns on his face. "Oh, no. No no no. We can't! Why would you even think of that?"

"Think of what?" Danny asks, a little annoyed that he doesn't get it.

"Asking Vlad," Sam, Tucker, and Jazz reply.

"Oh, ew!" Danny says automatically.

Jazz rolls her eyes. "It's not like I want to talk to him either! I just think given the circumstances, we don't have much choice."

"There's always a choice, Jazz," Sam retorts. "He'll probably try and force Danny to stay with him in exchange for his help."

"Yeah, Jazz," Tucker adds. "He's a slimeball. Who knows how he'll try to play this to his advantage."

"But—"

"I think Jazz is right," Danny says.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz stare at Danny, flabbergasted. Danny blushes.

"Well, it's like Jazz said — I don't want to, but I don't think we have a choice. We need his help. And besides," he says with a smirk, "the man is way too narcissistic. He doesn't want to die because half the world doesn't believe what's right in front of their faces."

"And we can use that to our advantage," Jazz adds. "He knows he'll need help with whatever scheme he's plotting, and there isn't enough time for him to be picky."

"So, what? We go to him for help, and threaten to walk if he tries to pull anything?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Jazz and Danny grin at each other.

Tucker sighs and pulls out his PDA. "Alright, fine. One meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop coming right up."

Danny stares. "Dude, what are you doing?"

Tucker looks up. "Um, scheduling a meeting with our evil mayor?"

Sam shakes her head. "He's probably booked. We'll have better luck if we just show up."

Jazz nods. "He's probably expecting us anyways."

Tucker sighs and puts away his PDA. "Alright, fine. But can we take a moment to clean up? I don't know about you guys, but my face is crusty."

Danny looks at his friends and sister. Their hair is a mess, and their eyes are still rimmed red. Sam's mascara has dried after running down her face, and Tucker's glasses and Jazz's headband are askew. Danny figures he doesn't look much better.

He nods. "Alright. But after that, we have a meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop!"

[pomegranates-and-blood]

The Holly And The Ivy

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Reader, Sigurd/Margrethe

Summary: “I had this idea where Sigurd (or any of the brothers really) were to marry a Christian, but their marriage is dry and more political than anything, but Ivar is fascinated by her attitude (being opposite of him) and her love for life and simple things. He hears the reader and who she's married to talking about how she loves Christmas and he shuts her down, but Ivar decides to let her pick out a tree from the forest and put it up in the Great Hall and decorate it any way she wants. And the ending would include a kiss under mistletoe? If you can work with it.”

I’m very sorry if I dissapoint you anon, but the story was easier or smoother for me to write as a Modern!AU. I really hope you don’t mind. I can try something in the actual time period still, if you are not happy with au’s.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, passing mentions of abusive relationships (not involving any of the relationsips in the tag btw), angst, my poor attempt at holiday fics or holiday spirit. Also, a part is not smut or explicit but getting closer to it than most of my work, so that too.

A/N: I really hope I don’t dissapoint whoever requested this. Also, I made this way more complicated than it needed to be, bc I always do, and for that I’m also sorry. Hope you like this, thank you for reading!

The title is from a Christmas carol, cause why not lol

Taglist: @1950schick @youbloodymadgenius​ (I realized you once asked to be tagged on my Vikings works and I forgot, sorry)

“When we are done with this trip we’ll go back home.” Sigurd points out one night as you both say goodnight, in some hotel somewhere in Norway.

“Home?”

“To my mother’s, in a week. Family time and all that.”

Before you are to leave for your own room, you call out, “For Christmas?”

The blond shakes his head, “Yule. You can celebrate your Christmas when we return.”

“That’ll be after the New Year!” You complain softly, offering a smile because you cannot help it.

“I will have to deal with Ivar and my mother, you can deal with this.” Sigurd sentences, the harshness startling you and prompting you to accept the words with a nod.

He mutters a goodnight again, hesitating for a moment on his bedroom door, as if questioning whether he should say sorry or not. You choose to relieve him of that choice, going into your own room and closing the door with a quiet click.

As if it were waiting for the door to close, your phone lights up on your nightstand.

How’s Oslo?

You type a quick response,

You could just ask me if we’ll be attending your mother’s celebrations, you know.

The response takes a while longer, and you cannot help the smile that pulls at your lips.

…Are you?

I expect all those lessons of yours with Floki to come to use. I’m going to need to learn about Yule, apparently.

So I’m supposed to teach you?

Who else?

Your fiancé. Is the reply you get, so fast you think he already knew what your reply was going to be before you even sent it. After a moment, before you can even think on what to answer, another message comes through. Nvm, my brother is useless. I’ll do it.

Your lips pull into a wide and stupid smile, and God, not even the shame at the quick beating of your heart or the warmth that spreads through you could make you be any less thankful for this, if anything. For him.

Thank you. Are you going to be there by Christmas?

This time the answer takes a while longer, and the indication that he is typing appears and disappears a few times.

I don’t know. Before you can ask anything, or send anything, a new message pops up. Princess, this doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know if I can.

Tears rise in your eyes because a part of you knows you’re meant to say goodbye at the end, and every time you are reminded, either by the pain in your own chest or Ivar’s words, that you are on borrowed time; you realize that end is close than you think.

Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Ivar.

____

You find yourself being driven to that massive and fancy house by your fiancé.

You toy with your engagement ring as the car approaches the house. You know, rationally, that you have nothing to fear. The brothers have never been mean or hurtful -well, most of them haven’t-, and Aslaug has always been courteous and kind and…incredibly performative.

A part of you never ceased to feel like an outsider looking in. Between the pariah that a stupid business practice will be made into Sigurd’s wife, and the silent and soft woman they ignore as if she were another piece of furniture, you’d much rather be the latter.

“Heavy little thing, isn’t it?” Sigurd teases as he turns off the engine, motioning with his head to the rings on your left hand.

You don’t say anything in response, simply getting out of the car in silence. You know he meant well, he always does.

But a part of you that is hopeful and childish and still looks at the snow that starts to fall lightly over the ground as some miracle that means Christmas is upon us…that part of you cannot help but feel bitter about it all. Regretful, or, maybe, resentful.

You never imagined life would be this, engagement -marriage- would be this. You thought of happiness and warmth and fidelity.

Foolish hopes, really. The hopes of a child that watched her parents dance to the light of the Christmas lights, to the music of the soft music her father hummed. Nothing but foolish hopes.

So, when Sigurd steps out and hesitates in offering you his hand, you offer a smile and take his hand in yours, choosing to appreciate that at least the man you will be forced to marry is one you might call a friend, a partner, one day.

It is easy to forget, it is easy to let your heart be light and just enjoy the adorable giggles of Björn and Torvi’s children, the sympathetic smile of Margrethe, the warm and brotherly embrace of Hvitserk.

You are sipping on wine and watching Ubbe throw Asa over his head as she yells for him to throw her higher when a presence stands by your side and a wine glass clinks with your own in silent toast.

“I know you know about Sigurd and me,” Margrethe whispers, “And I want you to know I am sorry. But…I won’t leave him, not until he asks me to.”

If a year ago someone told you that you’d spent Christmas Eve being told by your fiancé’s mistress that she refuses to stop seeing him, you would have assumed the world turned on its head.

It did, but…you still find it in you to love this world that hurts you, this life that tests you.

You offer a smile, “I know you love him. It started as…”

“Gold-digging?” The blonde supplies, a sheepish grimace on her face.

“I wouldn’t be as unkind as to-…”

“You should. That’s what it was,” Her smile loses the edge, and she falters, “At first.”

You accept her words with a nod, and another sip of your wine.

“Then as long as you are discreet, I don’t mind. Keep him happy, Margrethe, he deserves it.”

You start to walk away when she stops you with a call of your name.

“And you don’t? Deserve to be happy, I mean.”

You hesitate, faltering for a few seconds too long. Her blue eyes are big and uncharacteristically honest as they look at you.

“I…”

You take your gaze off hers, because it feels like she will know something she shouldn’t, something you don’t want her to; but your eyes betray you, it seems.

“Oh, him. Well-kept secret, that one,” She states, and when you open your mouth to argue, Margrethe shakes her head, “It’s okay, I don’t…I don’t blame you. Even if I don’t understand at all how that came to be.”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?” The blonde supplies, and you allow yourself a smile, you loosen your shoulders and close your eyes with a deep breath.

“Ivar, he…understands me.”

“But you two are nothing alike,” She states, and at your shrug, concedes, “Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe,” You offer, and after a breath, because bitter regret at being the thing that keeps her from the man she loves chokes you for a moment, “Margrethe, I…”

“Don’t you even think of apologizing to me,” She laughs, “Gods, woman, you truly are a soft thing, aren’t you?”

“I have the privilege of being it.” You offer with a kind smile, because you’ve seen the scars, because you remember her when she was more fragile.

Margrethe shakes her head, “The burden.” She corrects, and with a soft squeeze of her free hand on your arm, she walks away.

____

It’s on the day before Christmas that the last of the Lothbrok arrives. You walk down the stairs to a very early breakfast, and jump when the front door opens to reveal Ubbe and Ivar.

He came.

“You are up early.” Ubbe comments as he passes you by, dropping a kiss on your cheek.

You greet Ubbe absently, your eyes on his brother. Numbly, you hear him say something about telling Aslaug that Ivar has come home, and quick steps carrying him up the stairs.

Your lips curve into a smile, or at least they try to, “Hi.”

“Hello, Princess,” Ivar greets, what months ago would have been a smirk curving his lips. Now, now it’s more tired and worn than anything. “Just in time for your…Christmas, right?”

You nod, feeling the stupid urge to cry, “Yeah. Means a lot, you know.”

“Well, I could feel you pouting over the phone, love,” His eyes check the stairs before he moves aided by his crutch towards you with a wince of pain -the cold, you remind yourself, the cold making his legs ache-, and once he is before you, a hand that shouldn’t feel as tender as it does cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his. “I couldn’t leave you alone here. You always find ways to embarrass yourself.”

You chuckle, burrowing your head on his chest as you embrace him.

“I may have fucked up a few times,” You concede, eyes closed as you take in his scent, his warmth, “But I’m cute, I get away with a lot of things.”

____

As the timer on your phone dings, you get up from the couch, leaving a warm but strong drink behind, and make your way to the kitchen, ready to take out the sponge cake -no, a voice too alike Ivar corrects you, Bûche de Noël-.

Uneven steps behind you let you know of who walked in behind you, and you turn around with a slight frown on your brows, meaning to ask something before he interrupts you.

“He’s groping and kissing her in front of you, and you say nothing?” Ivar demands, anger shining clearly in his blue eyes.

“Sigurd and Margrethe?” You ask, and shake your head, “Why would I say anything?”

“You know about them.”

“Of course I do. He doesn’t hide it from me, and he shouldn’t hide it from his family. He loves her, and she loves him.”

“You don’t care that he’s humiliating you?” He presses, and you sigh.

“Everyone here knows how things truly are between Sigurd and me.”

Ivar’s mouth curls into a snarl, and cruelty spews from his lips, “Well, if you had let Ragnar know you had no problem letting your husband fuck whoever he wants, you might have been able to marry Björn, like your father wanted.”

You close your eyes, “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, hm? Like someone that’s watching the woman he-…What am I supposed to be then, hm? What would make you happy?” He accuses, not losing the cruel edge in his voice even if you both know what he stopped himself from admitting. When you don’t answer, Ivar takes a deep and angry breath through his nose, “I’ve always been jealous of my brothers, you know this. Growing up their poor crippled brother is nothing to knowing Sigurd gets you and doesn’t even know what he-…what I’d do to be him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make him be the man you deserve!”

“He’s not the man I want,” You point out before you can keep the words trapped behind your lips. Ivar is inexplicably stunned by your words, it seems, and you lower your gaze. Resting your hands on the counter you drop your shoulders and shake your head, letting go of the previous argument and returning to…peace, or as close to it as one can get with Ivar. “Your brother deserves to be as happy as he can, with the woman he loves. It will not hurt me to see him with her. As long as-…”

“‘As long as it is discreet’, yes, I know. My mother and Ragnar have the same agreement.”

“It works for them, does it not?”

Ivar meets your gaze and doesn’t answer for a few moments, long enough that dread sets in your chest and questions arise in your mind.

Eventually, on the side of his jaw the clear tell of gritted teeth, he replies,

“Not as well as you think.”

“Well, Sigurd and I are friends, we…things will work out. They have to.”

“They have to, of course,” He mocks, moving his head as he rolls his eyes, “Anything to keep Ragnar and your father happy, hm?”

“Ivar…”

His eyes search yours, searching for the answer to a question he has not yet asked,

“I-If I asked you not to do this, if I…if I asked you for more time…” He leaves the words hanging between you, and you blink past helpless tears. He knows the answer, you know the answer.

Thankfully, you don’t have to remind him -and yourself- of the world you live in, of the lives you were meant to live, because the door to the kitchen opens and Aslaug walks through.

You keep your eyes firmly set on the tray before you, even though you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, demanding an answer. When he realizes he will not get one, he grunts, a clenched fist hitting the counter once before he walks away.

“I’m sorry.” You offer the matriarch as she keeps her all-seeing eyes on you, but Aslaug offers a smile. A fake one, but a smile nonetheless.

“The cold gets to Ivar, it makes him irritable. It is not your fault.” She soothes, but the smile you offer her in thanks still trembles. You both know these are lies you are sharing with one another, and though it makes you falter and stumble, Aslaug moves gracefully from one lie to the next.

“I’ll-…” You point behind you, to the living room, but the woman shakes her head.

“Surely you have time to help me with this?” She asks. It feels like walking into a wolf’s den when you nod your head and approach her.

“Of course.”

She watches raptly as you assist her in preparing the Yule Log, and you focus on doing your best to keep your hands from trembling.

“For someone that doesn’t follow the Gods, you know a lot about tradition, girl.”

“I…It was the least I could do, learning about what is important to your family, to Sigurd.” You offer, and whatever she -who always has the look of someone that sees beyond what normal eyes can- can sense in your words makes Aslaug stop.

She turns to you, and surprises you with a hand on your cheek. The woman towards over you, but the gentleness in her touch, the warmth in her eyes, they help you to not feel threatened.

“Still loving the world that hurts you, sweet thing?”

“It’s all I know how to do.”

Aslaug’s smile is almost sad when she looks into your eyes, “To love, yes, I know. Wish I saw that sooner,” You don’t know what to answer to that, so you offer her only a shaky smile and a shrug. Aslaug chuckles gently, “And you love my son, don’t you?”

The terrifying thought that she knows what she’s doing when not saying any names, the realization nothing gets past her and neither did whatever is between you and Ivar, it all settles in your stomach with a dead weight.

Still, whether she asks about Sigurd or Ivar, the answer is the same.

“Yes.”

One as a friend, a partner, a man you can learn to respect and build a life alongside of. The other, as everything you ever wanted, as someone that will always make you wonder about the ‘what if’s.

She shakes off whatever takes a hold of her, and before you can ask what she means, why it pains her, she steps back from you and turns her back to you.

“You know, Ragnar isn’t the only one in this family with an eye for business. I was once in the same position you are now, the heiress to an empire,” Aslaug’s smile seems to thaw as she hands you a refilled glass of wine to match hers. Resting her backside on the counter behind her, she continues, “My parents were able to teach me a few valuable lessons before their death.

She grabs your left hand, stopping you. Her eyes look deeply into yours, but her thumb rolls your engagement ring on your finger.

“Like how to understand when I can’t make any more moves. And when I can change the wording in a deal to make it favor me.

Your lips part, you think to say something, but Aslaug stops you with a smile.

“Let’s hope you’ve learned the same lessons, my dear.”

____

Ubbe is dancing with Asa standing on his feet, and you watch with a smile on your face as the family enjoys time together, and celebrates the holidays in their own way.

A part of you misses the Christmas lights, the decorations you’d help your parents put up when you were a kid. A part of you misses how simple life was back then, how in this time of year you could forget there was a world past the snow drifting down and the warmth of a hearth and a home.

Ivar comes right up to you, but doesn’t sit next to you, choosing to remain standing.

“Grab your coat,” He orders, and at your confused frown, he rolls his eyes and amends, “Please.”

The most insincere please in the history of pleases, but you know you get more than most, so you don’t comment on it.

Still, you have to ask, “Why?”

“I-…a surprise,” He says, and insists you move with a gesture of his head, “Come on.”

You follow him to the small house the Lothbroks have by the pool, a cozy little home of big windows. When Ivar motions for you to go in ahead of him, a part of you is suspicious, but you still skip your way inside and try not to ask questions as to how it is so warm here when it should be vacant.

Ivar turns the lights on, and you find in the middle of the living room a Christmas tree.

The tree is bare, but still lively and familiar.

You turn to Ivar with tears in your eyes, because you cannot help it.

“You did this for me?”

“You love your Christmas,” He mumbles, embarrassed at the reaction his -to some, uncharacteristic- thoughtfulness got out of you. “I figured you deserved to have some of it with you here.”

“Did you buy Christmas lights?” You ask softly, almost moving up and down in the balls of your feet in excitement, eyeing the bags on a chair nearby.

Ivar chuckles, endeared, and nods, “Go ahead, Princess.”

You skip your way to the bags, quickly looking over the goods and already planning on how to decorate it, how to make it look pretty, how to make it yours.

You don’t truly know how long you spend on it, gleefully putting up Christmas lights, and little ornaments. During the whole time you spent excitedly decorating the tree, you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, and when you look back at him you find him staring with a strange softness in his gaze.

You choose not to think too much on it, and instead ask his opinion on the decorations, that he gives gruffly and with a very poor attempt at making you believe that -either because Christmas grew on him, which you find very unlikely, or because of your own happiness- he isn’t happy to be here.

____

You smile at the warm and twinkling lights, and burrow closer to Ivar’s warmth, refusing to take your eyes off the dancing lights and refusing to put your feet back on the ground.

Refusing to step out of the fantasy that this could be your life.

Ivar shifts his position, and you lift your head from the juncture between his neck and shoulder and meet his eyes in question.

His eyes give away so much, always have, at least to you. And now they reflect the warm sparkle of the Christmas lights, and they reflect hesitation, fear, uncertainty, love.

Before you can ask what is wrong, Ivar leans in, his hand previously around you tangling in your hair as his lips claim yours.

His kiss is always demanding, but this time it holds desperation in the way Ivar begs for your lips to part with his own, it holds an urgency in the way his tongue dances with yours, it holds a ragged edge in the shaky breath that he lets out through his nose, it holds a goodbye in the way he ends the kiss as if forcing himself to pull away from you.

You try getting your breath under control and your voice to be yours again, but he’s so close, and warm, and yours; and all you want to do is kiss him again.

Kiss him again, and make the furrow in his brow, the pain in his eyes, go away. Kiss him again, and pretend you are not living on borrowed time.

So you do.

You kiss him, and take control of the kiss, and make him groan lightly against your mouth when you tug on his hair, and whimper his name against his own when you straddle him and feel him getting hard underneath you.

When your need for breath makes you part from his kiss, Ivar wastes no time trailing fervent kisses down your neck, panting breaths against the hot skin that he kisses and licks and bites.

You moan his name, forgetting everything but the touch of his lips on your skin, forgetting everything but the scent and taste and feel of him.

Either at the sound of your voice or the grind of your hips against his hardening cock, Ivar’s breath stutters and he breathes your name back at you, voice low.

His brow rests against your collarbone as he takes deep breaths, and your fingers toy at the hair that flows down to his shoulders.

“You know…” He murmurs, pressing a kiss that makes you shiver right on the dip between your collarbones, “There’s nothing I want more right now than marking this pretty neck of yours. Leaving you with…” His teeth scrape against your skin, a tease both for you and himself. Ivar does it a few more times, and moves up your neck again. Your breath shudders past your lips, and you tug on his hair to remind him of what he was saying. You always did love hearing him speak. For all the months you spend apart, his voice telling you what he’d do to you, what he’d have you do to him, is all that keeps you warm. Ivar chuckles, but continues, “Leaving you with my mark all over you, where everyone can see, so…so that they don’t doubt you’re mine.

His hands tighten on your waist, before they travel down, caressing your thighs as he sighs.

“But you’re not, are you? And I can’t…I can’t do any of that. I can’t-…”

You interrupt him before his thoughts can get ahead of him, before he can twist himself into knots about the situation you are both in.

“I am yours. Only yours.” You remind him softly, your lips by his ear. You lean back so you can meet his eyes, and seal your promise with a soft kiss over his lips.

Ivar’s eyes search yours when you pull back, with the same look as before. Uncertain, lost, tender and yet almost sad.

“Marry me.” He whispers, keeping his eyes on yours.

“What?” You squeak, eyes wide. He couldn’t have…he knows that…none of this makes any sense.

“Marry me instead of Sigurd,” He insists, and as if remembering the part he forgot, he curses and hurries to fetch something from his pocket. He offers you a simple but beautiful ring, and swallows, “I-I can make you happier than he ever could, I…I love you.

I know you can, you already do.

I love you too.

But you can’t say any of that, because your breaths are shallow and your head is filled with thoughts and…and you need space.

You scramble to stand, to put distance between the two of you. After a few controlled breaths, you return your eyes to Ivar, whose hand has now fallen back to his lap even if he still holds on to the delicate ring.

He grits his teeth, the obvious tell at the side of his jaw, and he seems to want to divert his eyes from you, but he only blinks and keeps certain eyes on you.

“Your father wants you to marry one of Ragnar’s sons, he doesn’t care who. I…have talked with my father, he agrees that if you want to, we can…” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture, “Mother says any backlash from breaking the engagement can be handled.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Of course I have, y-you’d be Sigurd’s wife if I didn’t think of something,” A twitch of anger, of uncertainty, of fear, on his face, and then he amends, “You still can be. But I want you to be able to choose.”

Choose me, is what he doesn’t say.

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and you try a few times before you can finally speak,

“Ivar, we haven’t…it’s been only a few months.”

“And it will not work out, that’s what you’re saying?” He huffs, defensive, “It won’t work out if you marry my brother either.”

“I-…this-…”

“Stop thinking of excuses,” He snaps, gritted teeth and hurt written in his eyes, “I’ll handle everything, no matter your answer. Just…just give me an answer, Princess.”

____

It is open ended cause there’s two ends to this, I wanted to leave the choice to you guys! So, follow the link for the epilogue of your choice:

Will you accept the proposal and be bound to Ivar, for better or worse?

Or will you stay with Sigurd, and be content with companionship and friendship?

Hope you liked this, even if it wasn’t very holiday-ey. I wish you all very happy holidays and a great (or decent, after 2020 I’m happy with decent) 2021!!

(Ik it’s like the 13th and I’m gonna be very much around here posting and bothering the whole lot of ya till the holidays and beyond, but holiday fic and all that, ‘twas the perfect time to send good wishes and all. Love ya!)

[vampylovesaliens]

Pariah - p1

to the stars

Through the murky skies the Phantom dropped, the slightly-rusty frigate rattling through the thick atmosphere. Payas’drahk was a harsh world, wastelands studded with sulfuric pools and geysers fringed by fungal forests that in turn surrounded the densely-packed cityscape. It was not a pretty world, but it sat just off the edge of a major interstellar commerce route, and therefore provided the Yautja a prime bit of real estate to conduct business and trade with the galactic community they otherwise remained rather detached from.

Glowering through the front windshield, The Ghost flicked a few switches to begin the landing procedure, reaching out to communicate with the control grid below. The intercom crackled--a side effect of the gases in the air--and he reached up to pull on his mask before patching into it, just the sight of the orangish-yellow sky making him very aware of how thick the air, even with the ship’s filtration system, had become around him.

“Identify.” The control officer growled.

“Kh’azu-hlau.” He responded, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the half-muffled curse on the other end.

“You know you aren’t welcome here, Ghost.”

“Until the Primarchs put out an order for my head, I’m free to resupply and refuel here, Officer.” He stated plainly. “Give me a dock.”

More grumbling, then finally a bitter, “Dock twelve. Do not linger, Ghost.”

“Acknowledged.” He replied, punching in the coordinate before getting up and preparing to disembark while his ship handled the landing process. His gear, sleek but well-armored, stood out starkly black on his pale skin, the ghostly hint of the blood running beneath it glowing through in some spots. Kh’azu-hlau wore his tresses long, bound back in a wild flare behind his sharp-crested skull, the silvery tendrils making his silhouette bristle. Through his visor he watched the cargo bay open as the ship settled heavily, engines humming and popping as they powered down. Even with his mask to filter the air he could taste the bitter sulfur, growling irritably as he strode down the ramp with his rucksack hefted over his shoulder.

Two Yautja stood at the end of the dock, Enforcers making sure he brought no trouble. A redundant sort of measure here on Payas’drahk; Yautja could cause trouble regardless of whether they were under special surveillance or stripped of their weapons. And that wasn’t even considering his own unique capabilities. They stopped him, crossing his path with their spears in unison. “Welcome back to Payas’drahk, Ghost.” One of them spoke, the faint flicker behind the visor of his mask indicating he was running scans on him the whole while. “The Dr’kalla will not be pleased with your return.”

“Last I checked, the Dr’kalla clan were not the prime holders of the hub.” He countered, noting the distinct hum of malcontent hidden behind the Enforcer’s brow that told him he was speaking to one of the Dr’kalla even before he noticed the clan mark engraved on his shoulder-piece. “Am I free to go about my business, or will you be delaying me?”

The guard rumbled, his shoulders squaring as if he were considering throwing the challenge out there, but his partner hissed chidingly, stepping back first and motioning for him to do the same. “Be on your way, Kh’azu-hlau. Your ship will be fueled and ready for you soon.”

Thankfully he faced no further interruption, stalking through the market to make his purchases, the hum of drones that ferried supplies to the docks they were being purchased for and the snarling, hissing bickering of the other Yautja making a steady commotion around him. Everyone gave him a wide berth; the merchants eyeing him warily and speaking in quick, curt tones, unwilling to prolong their transactions. The pale-skinned hunter they called The Ghost, who belonged to no clan and followed no Code, was a frightful presence.

Finally he stood off to the side, his head canted downward as he flicked through the different displays in his visor. Ensuring he’d gotten everything he needed; it would be a great pain if he had to return so soon. He felt the approach before he heard it, the prickle of another’s consciousness that was fixing on him, someone familiar.

“M’tendris.” He spoke, the word purring in his throat as he lifted his head, and there she was, tall and strong and glorious as the last time he’d seen her. Maybe moreso; a new trophy adorned her shoulder, the great fanged skull of one of the sulfur-eating beasts from this world. She clattered, her face hidden by her mask, but her mind spoke more than her face ever could; her happiness to see him, her relief at his safety--but something else too, something...fearful, which did not suit a mighty huntress like her. But before he could question her she pulled him away from the sight of the market, into the murky alley between shops where she could press her brow--despite the clank of their masks--to his and purr her affection loudly as she wove her claws into his pale tresses.

And then he felt it, their closeness allowing him to feel more clearly, to sense beyond the touch of their skin as he lifted his claws to her sides, the muscle flexing smoothly beneath his hands. “Are you--?” He pressed his palm flat to her belly and she chuckled, clicking her amusement as she nodded. “Yes, mei-jehdin.”

Kh’azu-hlau said nothing for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then, “...Is it mine?”

She let out a chastising growl, one hand freeing from his tresses in order to knock her knuckles firmly against the side of his head. “Hulij-bpe, you idiot. Yes, of course it is.”

He growled in dismay at the knock, before chuckling at her. “It’s a good thing I did not delay my visit, then. Still early; do they know?”

“No.” She sighed, finally releasing him in order to step back, tossing her own long tress, inky black tendrils sliding over her shoulders as she regarded him levelly. “But they will soon. The next time someone thinks to scan me…” She trailed off, then shook her head with a growl. “They will know it’s yours. It could arrive looking nothing like you, and they would know.”

“Such is the price of loving me.” He remarked dryly, unable to help but admire her even in the foul murky light of the alleyway. “...You must come with me, then.”

She sighed tensely. But he knew any protest was simply out of habit. She would protest because she had to; it was not fitting of the Code for her to abandon her clan, her family. To bear a Clanless’ child. But he could see the decision had already been made in her mind, likely well before he’d even arrived. “Come with me.” He repeated anyway. If he insisted, then it was not completely on her shoulders. He could be the villain, the dishonorable Clanless who spirited her away--fitting considering his moniker. But not entirely believable, as she was certainly not one to be easily spirited anywhere if she did not damn well please.

Her things were already packed; it was a small matter to get a drone to transport them to the Phantom for him. More concerning was the Enforcer at the dock who was one of her clan, the Dr’kalla. As they paced across the deck to the waiting Phantom, Kha’zu-hlau reluctantly held himself back, allowing M’tendris to take the lead. The Enforcer’s ire was already apparent, his mind humming with aggravation and unease as he witnessed his clanmate--a cousin no less--approaching in the presence of the infamous Ghost. “M’tendris.” He barked. “What are you doing here?”

“I am leaving. And you will not stop me, To-vekh.” She stated curtly. As tall as she was, she positively towered over him; Kha’zu-hlau had to resist the urge to laugh as he watched the Enforcer in all his specially-relegated armor quailing before her. It was glorious, and he mused to himself that were she not already carrying his child, he’d certainly make sure she was later.

“If you leave, they will strike you from the Dr’kalla. You will be labeled Clanless.” The Enforcer warned, but he and his partner stepped back, making no move to stop the pair as they headed for the ship. M’tendris did not flinch and did not look back, striding aboard the ship and taking a seat behind the cockpit where Kha’zu-hlau took his place as pilot. To be Clanless was lonely, he knew that much. Able to live on the edges of Yautja society without ever being embraced by it, supported by it. But it was less lonely now, together aboard the Phantom as they sailed skyward and left the sour planet behind them.

They coasted through the stars, the ship calm and quiet when they retired to his sleeping quarters--THEIR sleeping quarters now, Kha’zu-hlau reasoned. And as they lay together, her skin a deep tan, streaked with red and white markings, and his such a solid pale white with the ghostly hue of his green blood beneath, he lay his hand across her belly and listened quietly, his mandibles tapping gently across her collar as she breathed steadily in her sleep, strong and fierce and soft for him, only him. The child blossoming in her would never know the comfort of a clan, he knew. It was a bitter truth, for a mutant’s child. Would they hate him, for being what he was? Would they hate M’tendris, their mother, for loving him enough to choose him, when there were so many better prospects, surely. His claws traced old symbols gently over her skin, and he pressed his mandibles to the hollow of her throat, a kiss that even in her sleep she rumbled warmly to. There were too many questions, too many unanswerable things to think of. For now, they would sleep, and tomorrow they would plan. And they would be together.

[docmary]

The politics of a pandemic, how not to manage coronavirus

No man is an island, Entire of itself, Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thy friend's Or of thine own were: Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind, And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls.

It tolls for thee.

John Donne

1624

The poet John Donne warned of the dangers of isolation and imagining oneself as self-sufficient, without need of community. It was true 500 years ago; it still holds true today. No man is an island…every man is a part of the main. As wave upon wave of SARS-CoV-2 reached every continent, even Antarctica, most of us have tried to isolate ourselves on this crowded planet - with mixed results.

As of May 30, 2021, by every metric, the United States was leading the world in the number of cases and deaths from COVD-19. Brazil and India are catching up quickly. In the US, the underlying tension between public health and personal liberty has had disastrous consequences. As successful as the vaccine roll-out has been, and even with the numbers of new cases, hospitalizations, and deaths dropping, this is no time to be complacent.

India, with a population of over 1 billion, and Brazil, a pariah among countries in Latin America for its poor response to the pandemic, cause or should cause great concern to everyone everywhere. Not having the resources of rich countries, they will require help to manage the tragic situation their leaders have put their populations in and it is in our interest to do so because...the bell tolls for thee.

India

When the World Health Organization (WHO) declared COVID-19 a global pandemic in March 2020, there had been 330,000 cases and 30,000 deaths from SARS-CoV-2 reported worldwide. In the early days of the pandemic, India was considered a model of how to manage the worst public health crisis in recent memory. India responded with a strict lockdown. International flights and exports of masks, ventilators, and certain medicines were banned. As a result, India did not see the same initial explosion in new cases and deaths compared to other countries.

Three months later, India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi began easing lockdown restrictions - like the American football player who does the end-zone dance on the two-yard line—not a good idea. When the lockdown lifted, many Indians stopped taking precautions. Mr. Modi allowed large gatherings, including campaigns in state elections that he attended, without wearing a mask, at rallies of thousands of mask-less supporters, to help his governing Bharatiya Janata party. Large religious festivals resumed drawing millions of people as well. By July 2020, India had seen 600,000 cases and 17,834 deaths due to COVID. An editorial from The Lancet, said that Mr. Modi “seemed more intent on removing criticism” on social media than “trying to control the pandemic.” Sound familiar?

As recently as March 2021, India’s health minister assured the public that they had reached the pandemic’s “endgame”.

The New York Times reported in May 2021 that India was responsible for more than half of the world’s daily COVID cases, setting a record-breaking pace of 400,000 new cases in one day. Researchers believe the B.1.1.7 variant and the delta variant, which are also major variants in Britain and the US, are to blame for the surge. Clinics across India report desperate shortages of hospital beds, protective equipment, and oxygen.[1]

Just to add to the global disaster, India is one of the world’s leading vaccine manufacturers. It is struggling to inoculate its own citizens; less than 10% of Indians have gotten even one dose.[2] In September 2020, Serum Institute of India (SII) received $150 million from the Bill and Melinda Gates foundation to accelerate production of Oxford University’s AstraZenica (AZ) vaccine and the American vaccine Novavax as soon as the WHO granted regulatory approval. Under the original terms of the agreement, 50% of vaccines would be earmarked for India and the remainder would go to other low- and middle-income countries.[3]Currently, exports of vaccines from India have been shut down.

Brazil

In an editorial from The Lancet, dated May 9, 2020, the president of Brazil, Jair Bolsanoro, was criticized for allowing the SARS-CoV-2 virus to spread widely while presenting himself as a “messiah” touting unproven medicines like hydroxychloroquine, with support from his rightwing allies.

At the time, Brazil had the most cases (105,000) and deaths (72,88) in Latin America. Estimates suggest the death rate was doubling every five days. When asked by a reporter about the rapidly increasing numbers of COVID-19 cases, Mr. Bolsanaro responded: “So what? What do you want me to do?”[4]

In March 2021, Brazil’s pandemic spiraled out of control. Its Latin American neighbors grounded flights, closed land borders, and regional sports events were canceled in attempts to stop the P.1 variant (and approximately 90 other variants) from spreading to their populations.

The British Medical Journal reported that 400,000 Brazilians have died from COVID-19—13% of deaths worldwide.[5] Some models predict the death toll in Brazil will reach half a million this month. That trajectory could be an indicator for what is to come for its neighbors. As Paraguay’s director of health surveillance, Guillermo Sequera, has said: “When Brazil sneezes, Paraguay gets a cold.”[6]

COVAX

With a fast-moving pandemic, no one is safe, unless everyone is safe.

author unknown. Retrieved from: https://www.who.int/initiatives/act-accelerator/covax

COVAX is an initiative dedicated to equitable access to a vaccine, particularly to healthcare workers and those most at risk. To date (5/31/2021), COVAX has shipped more than 77 million COVID-19 vaccines to 127 participants. It is co-led by[7]:

CEPI-Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations. The governing board has 12 voting members; four investors and eight independent members with competencies in industry, global health, science, resource mobilization, and finance—and five observers (17 total). Financial support comes from public sources including US Agency for International Development (USAID).

Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance-a public/private partnership which has helped to vaccinate 760 million children in the world’s poorest countries.[8] It ensures that infrastructure is in place and technical support is available to make sure that COVID-19 vaccines can be safely delivered to support the participation of 92 lower-middle and lower-income economies. It is part of the health systems work of Access to COVID-19 Tools (ACT) Accelerator effort, focusing on areas where it has expertise and experience, such as keeping vaccines at the correct temperature.

World Health Organization (WHO)

United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF)

COVAX hopes to get 280 million doses of vaccines to Latin America but has been hit with delays to eight manufacturers (including SII) it has deals with and does not expect to deliver them until the end of 2021.[8]This has led South American nations to look to China’s Coronavac and Russia’s Sputnik V vaccine supplies. One study found that Coronovac was only 50% effective after a single dose. The Biden administration has pledged to purchase 500 million doses of Pfizer BioNTech vaccine to give to COVAX; the first 200 million doses will be distributed this year, with the subsequent 300 million in the first half of next year.[10]

My Take

In what can only be called being one step ahead of the game, armed robbers in Hong Kong stole $16,000 worth of toilet paper as coronavirus sparked panic-buying of essential goods a month before WHO declared a global pandemic in March 2020.[11] (Good times)

In July 2020, President Trump formally notified Congress and the United Nations that the US was withdrawing from WHO because of course he did.

Several articles, including one from the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA)[12] have compared weekly deaths in the US that would be expected from historical trends with COVID and non-COVID deaths from March 2020 until January 2021. There was an increase of 22.9% of all-cause mortality. This far exceeds expectations. Excess deaths attributed to non-COVID causes could be the result of deaths that were, in fact, COVID but misclassified. They might also be due to delayed care, an overwhelmed healthcare system, or behavioral health crises. On the other side of the ledger, no doubt at least some of the deaths that would have been anticipated from non-COVID causes might have died from the coronavirus instead. Which is to say, these are at best estimates of the mortality rates. During surges in various parts of the US, deaths from several non-COVID diseases like heart disease and Alzheimer’s increased. Either way, the excess deaths could have been helped with a better response to the pandemic early on.[13]

For those “give me liberty, or give me death” fans, do I really need to point out that Patrick Henry was referring to his own death, not the deaths of millions all over the world? My parents’ generation made many sacrifices during WWII, including blood and treasure, and considered it worth the price to defeat Hitler. Wearing a mask to defeat a virus? Really? Who have we become?

It comes as a surprise to no one that the countries with the largest death tolls to date, the US, India, and Brazil, are also countries in which partisan politics was the priority over public health measures. It isn’t a good idea. Why don’t we just stop?

[1] What to know about India’s coronavirus crisis. What is behind the explosion of new coronavirus cases that is overwhelming the South Asian country? NY Times, May 25, 2021. Retrieved from: https://www.nytimes.com/article/india-coronavirus-cases-deaths.html

[2] ibid

[3]Raghavan, P. 2020. $150 million dollar shot for serum production of COVID vaccine, India Express.

[4]Lancet editorial. September 19, 2020. COVID-19 in Brazil: “So what?”, Lancet, 395: 1461. doi: 10.1016/s0140-6736(20)31095-3

[5]Taylor, L. 5/20/2021. COVID-19: How the Brazilian variant took hold of South America, BMJ 2021, 373: n1277. doi: 10.1136/bmj.n1277

[6]ibid

[7]World Health Organization: COVAX Working for global equitable access to COVID-19 vaccines. Retrieved from: https://www.who.int/initiatives/act-accelerator/covax

[8]Raghavan. Op cit.

[9]Taylor. Op cit.

[10] Page, T, Rauhala, E. Jun 9, 2021. Biden administration to buy 500 million Pfizer coronavirus vaccine doses to donate to the world, Washington Post, retrieved from: https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/biden-vaccine-donate/2021/06/09/c2744674-c934-11eb-93fa-9053a95eb9f2_story.html

[11]www.thinkglobalhealth.org/article1

[12]Woolf, SH, Chapman, DH, Sabo, RT, Zimmerman, EB. May 4,2021.Excess deaths from COVID-19 and other causes in the US, March 1 2020, to January 2, 2021,JAMA, 325(17): 1786-1789. doi: 10.1001/jama.2021.5199

[13]ibid

[dagenspear]

Crisis On Infinite Earths Outline Fix, Part 2

Like some I disliked the crossover, it's the worst out of all of them, and this is my preference for it to be done. This one is the first of the more aggressive changes to the crossover. Here are the ideas God blessed me with:

In the opening of the episode, Oliver wakes up on Lian Yu, then searching it, seeing visual reminders of his losses from the past, then being confronted by the Spectre, a green cloaked, shrouded figure, who quickly defeats Oliver and pins him to the ground, telling him his destiny is finally upon him.

This part has a bit more going on, so I'll explain in lettered plots:

A. This is a Batwoman episode, so like Kara was more or less the focus before, she's the focus here. The main structure and this bleeds into the B plot, is that the Monitor is dead now and the crisis is sill happening and they want to help other earths try and prevent E2's and Supergirl Earth's destruction for themselves. This plot is much more involved here. Using Pariah, someone who can sense the destruction of an Earth, sets their breach devices by a signal that'll send them to an earth by how close it is to being hit by the antimatter, taking them to the place where that might originate. Kate does this, but not before being found by E-1 Bruce, played by David Giuntoli, whose come due to the end of world type situation that's unraveling. We will expand on why this Bruce left. When Jason Todd was murdered, he became bitter and filled with rage and in this fit he hunted down the Joker and nearly killed him. Seeing himself as no longer fit to be Batman, he left, but this situation is dire enough to convince him to step back up. He and Kate travel to a few earths to warn those earths of the crisis, going to Gotham first. The First is Birds Of Prey TV Series Earth 109, where she meets Helena Kyle, played by Ashley Scott, and Dinah Lance, played by Rachel Skarsten, and with a vocal cameo by Oracle, played by Dina Meyer. Bruce is distraught at the idea of an earth where he's had a daughter. Kate is taken aback by Dinah's appearance, and doesn't know how to deal with it, but pushes through to find out where Batman is, thinking he may be able to help. Earth 109's Batman is Kevin Conroy Bruce, a bitter, angry and alone Bruce whose lost almost everything in his life. Alfred, Jason, Damien his son, Selina and Kate. Here we delve into why he left Helena and Gotham, seeing himself and Batman as nothing but an bringer of pain and death of all that he cares about. He's angry at Helena for her staying as a vigilante, thinking it will only bring to her what it's brought to him, that and his fear of bringing his family pain driving him to stay away. KC Bruce relents when he hears about the crisis, but it's too late and the anti-matter sweeps in, taking out Gotham, Helena with it, as Kate uses a breach device to take her, E1 Bruce and KC Bruce out of there. KC Bruce is devastated at this, but regroups out of a desire for revenge against what's done this. Kate realizes the breach device took them to Gotham TV Series Earth 14, met with Bruce Wayne, played by David Mazouz. They explain the situation to him, he's shocked, but grasps the importance of the situation and offers to help, him being dismissed due to his age and lack of experience. He protests this, but is met with the other Bruces viewing him as naive, citing their losses and how he doesn't understand the cost of being Batman, DM Bruce angrily snapping back that they've failed the city their parents wanted to protect, rejecting that future for himself, of giving up like that. But the red skies begin to emerge, the shadow creatures beginning to sweep across the world. KC Bruce almost taking a sadistic pleasure at the idea of destroying these things, as he activates his armored bodysuit. It wouldn't have to be too fancy as far as budget wise.

B. This one is much smaller, showing a few similar aspects, but not leaning so hard into the fan service in the way the show does. Kara, Lois and Clark, using the breach device set to tracing antimatter signatures, go to Smallville TV show's Earth 217. There they meet SV Clark and Lois, who still have kids. Kara's shellshocked to see Lois look so similar to her mom. At an earlier point of this story, Kara begins to feel obsessed with the idea of turning back time and preventing her earth and Argo's destruction, pushing Ray to try and figure out how to get the waverider to time travel, so she can prevent it. Seeing a Lois who looks like her mom doesn't help. They warn him of the crisis, offering up the ways it can be at least held off, as they try and find a way to stop it entirely, suggesting he gather the help needed to make it happen as they seek out other earths to warn. Then leaving, going to Superman The Movie/Series Earth 78. Where they meet Brandon Routh's Superman, who explains to them his losses due to the same thing as what happened in the show, Kara reflecting on the loss of this Superman and how he strives not to lose himself. Him agreeing to help in any way he can. Meanwhile SV Clark goes to Lex Luthor played by Michael Rosenbaum. He convinces Lex to supply what's needed for the tower to try and hold back the antimatter.

C. This one is more simple than the others. Sara, Barry and Mia try to work out what to do with Oliver, whose badly injured, but the waverider isn't able to heal him due to the creature's attacks being based in antimatter energy. They get Jjonn to project them into Oliver's mind to try and figure out what's going on, after Jjonn tells them that he senses that although Oliver's soul is still connected to his body, it's somewhere else. Oliver questions the Spectre's meaning and where he's come from, the Spectre telling him he was once Jim Corrigan, a officer who sought justice once but allowed himself to become corrupt and killed someone to save his own skin, only to be killed himself, in his dying moments finding God and repenting for his sins, God saving his life by giving him the opportunity to become a heroic force in the world, by being like a vessel for God's vengeance on earth. Spectre tells Oliver that it's now his turn to do the same and become a vessel's for God's vengeance of the multiverse against the Anti-Monitor. Oliver repents, giving his life to God and Jesus Christ, accepting this as his destiny. But not before Mia, Barry and Sara arrive, calling to Oliver. Oliver, torn at first, grasps the importance of this, and agrees, the Spectre's white-greenish energy emerging from underneath his shrouded cloaked face and breathing into Oliver. Barry, Mia and Sara are bounced out of Oliver's mind and Oliver's body disappears from the waverider in a flash of light.

At the conclusion of the episode, the heroes gather to fight back the forces collecting on Earth 14. In the midst of this, we'd get some old fashioned fan service, with KC Batman and BR Superman fighting back to back, and E1 Bruce and TH Superman fighting together as well. Meanwhile, we catch a glimpse of something similar happening on Earth 217, with Lex himself in an armored suit and Clark as Superman. The Bats are focused on beating the shadow creatures, while DM Bruce sees a family trapped in an area surrounded by shadow creatures, seeing the Supers and others making sure the hold back the majority of the shadow creatures to ensure the majority of civilians escape (though this is shown to not be possible as the shadow creatures are even more powerful than before), he throws a small explosive to break them free, and takes the heat of the shadow creatures, him taking a hits from them, it severely injuring him. KC Bruce takes DM Bruce's sacrifice in as he helps defend Kate, as she catches this. The shadow creatures begin to overwhelm them. When suddenly, E-38 Lex Luthor emerges through a breach and, surprisingly, uses a sonic machine that's emitting waves that cause the shadow creatures to stop attacking temporarily, E-38 Clark and Kara frozen in shock at seeing him, as he smiles smarmily at them and tells them, "Hurry up, I can't save you for very long with this!" Kate reacts quickly and manages to grab Bruce, just in time to escape as the earth collapses in on itself, every one of the team following suit.

Now, DM Bruce lay dying, the damage from the shadow creatures causing his body to fail. Gideon explains that it'd need a near perfect genetic match of Bruce to transfer non shadow creature damaged DNA, which would cause the one who transferred it to die in cellular degradation. KC Bruce stops E1 Bruce before he volunteers and takes the hit, explaining that he's lost his way and to tell DM Bruce thank you for showing him what it means to be Batman again, that it's not about punishing the guilty, but about preserving the innocence of those who are defenseless. The process starts and it heals DM Bruce, as KC Bruce dies. Kate cries in a mixture of grief and relief as DM Bruce wakes up, and she gives him the thanks, as well as from herself and E1 Bruce does so as well. Gideon does maintain that DM Bruce stay in sick bay, when he tries to get back to the fight. Kate and E1 that they can be enough Bat for now.

Meanwhile E-38 Clark and Kara throw Lex up against the wall, and angrily interrogates him about what he has to do with this. Lex remains cavalier about the situation, snarkily asking them if they can't handle it when he shows them that he's the hero. Kara and Clark's eyes glow with heat vision energy, before they reel themselves in, releasing him. Brandon Routh Superman asks him how he was able to stop those shadow creatures. Lex replying with, "Oh, another one. Delightful. At least this one has manners." Further explaining that it didn't stop them, but held them off temporarily by blocking the signal of whatever was controlling them. They question that, much to Lex's amusement, him outloud stating, "It's a good thing the Monitor brought me into this. Obviously, none of you are equipped with the brainpower to save humanity." Lex looks to E-38 Clark, saying, "It's gonna be fun working together again, don't you think?" Much to Clark's scowling.

The team are then alerted to the waverider jumping to one of the next earths that's to be wiped out. The waverider jumps.

Sara then calls the whole team to the control room, everyone rushing to it. Barry and the rest are met with the horror that Earth 1 is one of the next earths to be engulfed in the antimatter wave. Pariah appears, and begins laughing. Barry reacts furiously to this, grabbing him and asking him what he finds funny. Pariah explains that when he released the Anti-Monitor, he was promised that when this time came, he would get to do the damage. Barry slowly begins to realize what he's saying, as Pariah's eyes glow red and he superspeeds around the waverider cockpit, knocking everyone off their feet. Eobard Thawne stands over a shocked Barry in full Reverse Flash garb and says that their crisis has come.

TO BE CONTINUED...

END OF PART TWO.

Please review and tell me what you think!

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Headlines

Laura upgraded to Category 4 hurricane (CNBC) Hurricane Laura, a major Category 4 storm, is set to hit near the Texas-Louisiana border on Thursday morning as local officials scramble to evacuate thousands of residents. The storm’s rapid intensification shocked scientists and prompted forecasters to issue warnings of “unsurvivable storm surge” in Texas and Louisiana. “Unsurvivable storm surge with large and destructive waves will cause catastrophic damage from Sea Rim State Park, Texas, to Intracoastal City, Louisiana, including Calcasieu and Sabine Lakes,” the National Hurricane Center said on Wednesday. “This surge could penetrate up to 30 miles inland from the immediate coastline.” The storm battered the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico and Haiti over the weekend, knocking out power for more than 1 million people, collapsing some homes and killing at least 23 people. Laura is headed toward an area that comprises more than 45% of total U.S. petroleum refining capacity and 17% of oil production, according to the Energy Information Administration. As of Tuesday, producers shut down roughly 84% of offshore production in the Gulf as many refinery plants along the Texas and Louisiana coasts shutter in anticipation of life-threatening storm surge.

Extreme weather (Washington Post) Across the United States, there are signs of climate disaster. In California, two of the worst wildfires in the state’s history took place simultaneously, scorching more than a million acres of land, including a beloved forested national park. On the Gulf Coast, residents of Louisiana and Texas braced for an unprecedented double-hurricane event churned up by exceptionally warm waters in the Gulf of Mexico. In other parts of the Northern Hemisphere, the summer has already seen its toll of heat waves and heavy rains. Record-breaking temperatures in the Iraqi capital of Baghdad this July had my colleagues blistering their hands simply by touching the handle of an office door. The coastal Indian metropolis of Mumbai experiences seasonal flooding every year, but was hit by a year’s worth of rain in the space of a month this summer. Higher-than-average rainfalls in the past weeks led to an arc of destruction from central Europe to the Turkish Black Sea coast to southern China, where, in a grim omen, rising waters submerged the toes of a towering Tang dynasty-era statue of the Buddha that has stood for more than 13 centuries. “This year’s flooding has unfolded not as a single natural disaster, with an enormous loss of life and property,” noted the New York Times, “but rather as a slow, merciless series of smaller ones, whose combined toll has steadily mounted even as official reports have focused on the government’s relief efforts.” Experts are broadly convinced that a steady uptick in extreme weather events of recent years is at least in part the result of man-made climate change. “It seems like every year re-ups the previous year in terms of pushing the envelope, in terms of how much fire we’re seeing in the landscape and how severe that fire is,” Neil Lareau, an atmospheric scientist, told the Guardian about the California wildfires.

Lawyer says Blake paralyzed, protests erupt for 3rd night (AP) Jacob Blake, the Black man shot multiple times by police in Wisconsin, is paralyzed, and it would “take a miracle” for him to walk again, his family’s attorney said Tuesday. The shooting of Blake on Sunday in Kenosha—apparently in the back while three of his children looked on—was captured on cellphone video and ignited new protests over racial injustice in several cities, coming just three months after the death of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police touched off a wider reckoning on race. Some demonstrations devolved into unrest, including for a third night in Kenosha, where three people were shot and two people were killed during the protests overnight, according to Kenosha County Sheriff David Beth.

US crackdown on nonessential border travel causes long waits (AP) A Trump administration crackdown on nonessential travel coming from Mexico amid the coronavirus pandemic has created massive bottlenecks at the border, with drivers reporting waits of up to 10 hours to get into the U.S. An employee at a company that provides support for businesses with Mexican operations saw the huge lines Sunday night from his home in Tijuana, Mexico. A U.S. citizen, he lined up at midnight for his 8 a.m. shift Monday in San Diego and still arrived 90 minutes late. U.S. citizens and legal residents cannot be denied entry under a partial ban that the Trump administration introduced in March to prevent the spread of the coronavirus. Going to work, school and medical appointments are deemed essential travel but going to shop, dine or socialize is not. The crackdown comes after U.S. Customs and Border Protection said it surveyed about 100,000 travelers coming from Mexico by car or on foot and found 63% of U.S. citizens and legal residents traveled for reasons that were not essential.

Mexico struggles to get in shape (AFP) With martial arts training on rooftops, virtual exercise classes and outdoor workouts, Mexicans are getting creative as they try to slim down during the pandemic in one of the world’s most obese countries. Mexico has the world’s third-highest coronavirus death toll—and the government says poor diets and health problems including obesity, hypertension and diabetes are partly to blame. Social distancing measures mean gyms remain closed in much of the country six months after the outbreak began, posing a major hurdle to efforts to get Mexicans in shape. “It’s incredible that the bars are open and exercise is almost going underground, because there are gyms that open secretly,” Romero, a 27-year-old physiotherapist, tells AFP. Mexico has the world’s highest obesity rate among children and the second-highest among adults, according to the government.

German Town Fears Ruin by U.S. Effort to Stop Russian Pipeline (NYT) Sitting on the Baltic Sea, the small eastern German town of Sassnitz has been working for years to revive its enormous port, including taking on a role supporting a Russian pipeline being laid offshore to deliver natural gas to Germany. But the port, one of the last great infrastructure projects undertaken by the former East Germany, now finds itself caught up in a geopolitical competition between the United States and Russia, a clash that local officials and residents say is threatening the town and region with economic ruin. At issue are so-called secondary sanctions being proposed by powerful U.S. senators to target companies doing business with Russia and the Kremlin-controlled gas giant Gazprom to finish the pipeline, Nord Stream 2, which is 94 percent complete. The port would fall under the sanctions because of the role it plays supplying provisions to a Russian pipe-laying ship involved in the project. The penalty, if the sanctions are imposed, would mean being cut off from the United States “commercially and financially,” and effectively excluded from the global financial system. The port would essentially be turned into an international pariah, with all its business drying up—not just its work supplying the Russian ship. To German officials and residents in Sassnitz, the sanctions against the port and the company that owns it, Fährhafen Sassnitz, are puzzling and infuriating. They threaten to turn Sassnitz into collateral damage as the town struggles to create enough jobs to keep young people from leaving. “They are firing their cannons at sparrows,” said Edgar Taraba, as he unloaded a morning’s catch of flounder and sole from his dinghy. “There is nothing left here to take.”

Greece battles coronavirus resurgence after early success (AP) Workers in bright yellow vests stand on the dock in Greece’s main port of Piraeus, greeting hundreds of masked ferry passengers with fliers and the occasional temperature check. “Would you like a coronavirus test? Yes, it’s free. Right over there, in the white structure, you’ll see the signs,” they tell disembarking passengers. Free on-the-spot tests for travelers returning from Greek islands where outbreaks have occurred is the latest in an arsenal of measures authorities are using to tackle a resurgence of COVID-19 in a country that has so far managed to dodge the worst of the pandemic. New localized restrictions, including a midnight curfew for bars, restaurants and cafes and a ban on large gatherings have been imposed, mainly in popular tourist destinations such as the Aegean Sea island of Mykonos. The number of confirmed virus cases and deaths in Greece remains lower than in many other European countries, but have been increasing.

France joins military exercises in east Mediterranean (Reuters) France is joining military exercises with Italy, Greece and Cyprus in the Eastern Mediterranean amid a worsening dispute between Turkey and Greece over energy resources in the region, Armed Forces Minister Florence Parly said on Wednesday. Tensions between Turkey and Greece escalated after Ankara sent its Oruc Reis survey vessel to disputed eastern Mediterranean waters this month, a move Athens has called illegal. “The eastern Mediterranean is turning into an area of tension. Respect for international law must be the rule and not the exception,” Parly said on Twitter, adding that it “should not be a playground for the ambitions of some.” Relations between France and Turkey have soured in recent months over Ankara’s actions in NATO, Libya and the Mediterranean.

Army helicopters to pluck people from flooded Karachi city (AP) Pakistan’s military said Wednesday it will deploy rescue helicopters to Karachi to transport some 200 families to safety after canal waters flooded the city amid monsoon rains, displacing scores of people, officials said Wednesday. Although rains have lashed many parts of Pakistan, the southern port city of Karachi, located near the Arabian sea, has been the hardest-hit. Streets were flooded Tuesday with sewage water. Sewage and drainage systems in the city are outdated.

Indian lawyer in court over critical tweets (Foreign Policy) Prashant Bhushan, a prominent public interest lawyer from India, was due to be sentenced yesterday over two tweets he posted criticizing the government of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi. In one tweet, Bhushan accused Chief Justice Sharad Arvind Bobde of hypocrisy after he posed with a motorcycle without a mask, despite having put the Supreme Court in lockdown due to coronavirus concerns. In the other post, he said the Supreme Court’s recent activity showed “how democracy has been destroyed in India” under Modi. The Supreme Court has called the tweets a “calculated attack on the very foundation of the institution of the judiciary,” but the case is emblematic of the authoritarian slide India has taken since Modi first assumed power in 2014.

Russian Evangelicals Fined for ‘Missionary Activity’ During Pandemic (Christianity Today) Anatoly Chendemerov was handing out tracts that said “You must be born again!” in the Volga Federal District in southeastern Russia. He was fined 6,000 rubles, the euqivalent of about $80. Sergey Krasnov was passing out Christian newspapers and New Testaments in Krasnodar, a city in the South. He was fined 5,000 rubles, or about $65. Seo Jin Wook, a South Korean, met with about 10 people in a private home in Izhevsk, in the Western Ural Mountains, to talk about the good news of Jesus Christ. He told the people they should come back and bring friends. He was fined 30,000 rubles (about $400) and deported. More than 40 people have been charged with violating a Russian anti-missionary law in the first six months of 2020, according to a new report from Forum 18, a religious liberty news service based in Norway. Government lockdowns and pandemic stay-at-home orders did not substantially slow the multiyear crackdown on unauthorized religious activity. Russia passed a 2015 law that said all religious meeting places needed to be registered and followed it in 2016 with an anti-missionary law. The bill was labeled as anti-terrorism legislation, meant to prevent foreign extremist from exerting influence in the country. Local police, sometimes supported by the Federal Security Service, have fined roughly 100 religious people per year for practicing their faith. Baptists distributing tracts and Muslims teaching people the language skills necessary to read the Qur’an are prime targets, alongside ongoing efforts to completely rid the country of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

US-China trade disputes (South China Morning Post) China should weaponize its exports of medicines and drug precursors if the US cuts the country’s access to computer chips, a prominent Chinese academic and government adviser says, as supply chain security emerges as a key theme in the upcoming American presidential election. The United States is heavily reliant on imported medicines from China, something both US President Donald Trump and Democratic nominee Joe Biden have vowed to address after the coronavirus pandemic exposed vulnerabilities in the nation’s pharmaceutical and medical device supply.

With Hacks and Cameras, Beijing’s Electronic Dragnet Closes on Hong Kong (NYT) To get onto his Facebook account, the police used Tony Chung’s body. When officers swarmed him at a Hong Kong shopping mall last month, they pulled him into a stairwell and pinned his head in front of his phone—an attempt to trigger the facial recognition system. Later, at his home, officers forced his finger onto a separate phone. Then they demanded passwords. “They said, ‘Do you know with the national security law, we have all the rights to unlock your phones and get your passwords?’” Mr. Chung recalled. Emboldened by that new law, Hong Kong security forces are turning to harsher tactics as they close a digital dragnet on activists, pro-democracy politicians and media leaders. Their approaches—which in the past month have included installing a camera outside the home of a prominent politician and breaking into the Facebook account of another—bear marked similarities to those long used by the fearsome domestic security forces in mainland China. Not accustomed to such pressures, Hong Kong lawmakers and activists, and the American companies that own the most popular internet services there, have struggled to respond. Pro-democracy politicians have issued instructions to supporters on how to secure digital devices. Many have flocked to encrypted chat apps like Signal and changed their names on social media.

Workations in Japan (Nikkei Asian Review) Workations are a reliable way that Japanese companies are getting workers to relax in a new environment on the company dime, and also support a tourist industry that’s been devastated by national shutdowns. The Japanese government launched a 1.3 trillion yen ($12.6 billion) travel campaign, angling to get people moving around the country which saw a 99.9 percent year-over-year decline in foreign visitors in the four months leading up to July and business down at travel companies 92.9 percent in June. One solution has been basically a surge in corporate retreats, where companies will send groups of employees to work on the beach on the cheap to lift morale while encouraging some R&R, and the government is actively encouraging it. Japan’s domestic tourism industry struggles because most people tend to travel at specific times—summer and year-end—and workers take the fewest paid holidays of 19 countries and regions and just half their allotted vacation on average.

Outbreak in Gaza (Washington Post) The Gaza Strip has been under degrees of lockdown since 2007, when Israel and Egypt imposed blockades after the militant group Hamas took control of the impoverished Palestinian territory. The same conditions that make life a daily struggle there, and that have obstructed even the most basic preparations for the looming threat of a coronavirus outbreak, have perhaps made it harder for the virus to find a toehold. That could be about to change. The coastal enclave’s few points of entry were largely shut in March. But Tuesday, the territory of nearly 2 million people imposed a 48-hour lockdown after authorities reported the first four confirmed cases of the virus in the general population. For months, aid agencies have warned that the silent spread of the virus through the conflict-weary strip could be calamitous. Gaza has one of the densest populations on Earth, a collapsed health-care system, and small supplies of electricity and clean water. Health-care workers are bracing for further signs of a wider outbreak among already vulnerable communities.

[phroyd]

TWO BRAZILIAN FIRMS owned by a top donor to President Donald Trump and Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell are significantly responsible for the ongoing destruction of the Amazon rainforest, carnage that has developed into raging fires that have captivated global attention.

The companies have wrested control of land, deforested it, and helped build a controversial highway to their new terminal in the one-time jungle, all to facilitate the cultivation and export of grain and soybeans. The shipping terminal at Miritituba, deep in the Amazon in the Brazilian state of Pará, allows growers to load soybeans on barges, which will then sail to a larger port before the cargo is shipped around the world.

The Amazon terminal is run by Hidrovias do Brasil, a company that is owned in large part by Blackstone, a major U.S. investment firm. Another Blackstone company, Pátria Investimentos, owns more than 50 percent of Hidrovias, while Blackstone itself directly owns an additional roughly 10 percent stake. Blackstone co-founder and CEO Stephen Schwarzman is a close ally of Trump and has donated millions of dollars to McConnell in recent years.

“Blackstone is committed to responsible environmental stewardship,” the company said in a statement. “This focus and dedication is embedded in every investment decision we make and guides how we conduct ourselves as operators. In this instance, while we do not have operating control, we know the company has made a significant reduction in overall carbon emissions through lower congestion and allowed the more efficient flow of agricultural goods by Brazilian farmers.”

The port and the highway have been deeply controversial in Brazil, and were subjects of a 2016 investigation by The Intercept Brasil. Hidrovias announced in early 2016 that it would soon begin exporting soybeans trucked from the state of Mato Grosso along the B.R.-163 highway. The road was largely unpaved at the time, but the company said it planned to continue improving and developing it. In the spring of 2019, the government of Jair Bolsonaro, elected in fall 2018, announced that Hidrovias would partner in the privatization and development of hundreds of miles of the B.R.-163. Developing the roadway itself causes deforestation, but, more importantly, it helps make possible the broader transformation of the Amazon from jungle to farmland.

The roadway, B.R. 163, has had a marked effect on deforestation. After the devastation that began under the military dictatorship and accelerated through the 1970s and ’80s, the rate of deforestation slowed, as a coalition of Indigenous communities and other advocates of sustaining the forest fought back against the encroachment. The progress began turning back in 2014, as political tides shifted right and global commodity prices climbed. Deforestation began to truly spike again after the soft coup that ousted President Dilma Rousseff of the Workers’ Party in 2016. The right-wing government that seized power named soy mogul Blairo Maggi, a former governor of Mato Grosso, as minister of agriculture.

Yet even as deforestation had been slowing prior to the coup, the area around the highway was being destroyed. “Every year between 2004 and 2013 — except 2005 — while deforestation in Amazonia as a whole fell, it increased in the region around the B.R.-163,” the Financial Times reported in September 2017. That sparked pushback from Indigenous defenders of the Amazon. In March, Hidrovias admitted that its business had been slowed by increasing blockades on B.R. 163, as people put their bodies in front of the destruction. Still, the company is pushing forward. Hidrovios recently said that, thanks to heavy investment, it planned to double its grain shipping capacity to 13 million tons.

The Amazon, where a record number of fires have been raging, is the world’s largest rainforest. It absorbs a significant amount of carbon dioxide, a major contributor to the climate crisis. The Amazon is so dense in vegetation that it produces something like a fifth of the world’s oxygen supply. The moisture that evaporates from the Amazon is important form farmlands not just in South America, but also in the U.S. Midwest, where it falls to the earth as rain. Protection of the Amazon, 60 percent of which is in Brazil, is crucial to the continued existence of civilization as we know it.

The effort to transform the Amazon from a rainforest into a source of agribusiness revenue is central to the conflict, and linked to the fires raging out of control today. The leading edge of the invasion of the jungle is being cut by grileiros, or “land-grabbers,” who operate outside the law with chainsaws. The grileiros then sell the newly cleared land to agribusiness concerns, whose harvest is driven on the highway to the terminal, before being exported. Bolsonaro has long called for the Amazon to be turned over to agribusiness, and has rapidly defanged agencies responsible for protecting it, and empowered agribusiness leaders intent on clearing the forest. The land-grabbers have become emboldened.

“With Bolsonaro, the invasions are worse and will continue to get worse,” Francisco Umanari, a 42-year-old Apurinã chief, told Alexander Zaitchik,for a recent story in The Intercept. “His project for the Amazon is agribusiness. Unless he is stopped, he’ll run over our rights and allow a giant invasion of the forest. The land grabs are not new, but it’s become a question of life and death.”

Fires in the Amazon have been producing devastation described as unprecedented, many of them lit by farmers and others looking to clear land for cultivation or grazing. Bolsonaro initially dismissed the fires as unworthy of serious attention. Several weeks ago, Bolsonaro fired a chief government scientist for a report on the rapid escalation of deforestation under Bolsonaro’s administration, claiming that the numbers were fabricated.

Beginning with the military dictatorship in Brazil, when agribusiness was fully empowered, roughly a fifth of the jungle was destroyed by the mid-2000s. If the Amazon loses another fifth of its mass, it is at risk of a phenomenon known as dieback, where the forest becomes so dry that a vicious, cascading cycle takes over, and it becomes, as Zaitchik writes, “beyond the reach of any subsequent human intervention or regret.”

SCHWARZMAN, A FOUNDER of Blackstone, owns roughly a fifth of the company, making him one of the world’s richest men. In 2018, he was paid at least $568 million, which was, in fact, a drop from the $786 million he made the year before. He has been generous toward McConnell and Trump with that wealth. In 2016, he gave $2.5 million to the Senate Leadership Fund, McConnell’s Super PAC and put Jim Breyer, McConnell’s billionaire brother-in-law, on the board of Blackstone. Two years later, Schwarzman kicked in $8 million to McConnell’s Super PAC.

Blackstone employees have given well over $10 million to McConnell and his Super PAC over the years, making them the biggest source of direct financing over McConnell’s career. McConnell’s Senate campaign declined to comment.

Schwarzman is a close friend and adviser to Trump, and served as the chair of his Strategic and Policy Forum until it fell apart in the wake of the Charlottesville neo-Nazi rally, in which Trump famously praised “very fine people, on both sides.” In December 2017, as the final details of the GOP tax cut were being ironed out, Schwarzman hosted a $100,000-a-plate fundraiser for Trump. Some of the president’s dinner companions complained about the tax bill, and days later, Trump slashed the top percentage rate in the final package from 39.6 to 37.

In recent months, the Sackler family, whose members founded and own the pharmaceutical company Purdue Pharma, have become pariahs for their role in facilitating the opioid crisis and the deaths of tens of thousands of people. Schwarzman’s contributions to the destruction of the Amazon, which stands between humanity and an uninhabitable planet, may ultimately render him as socially untouchable as the Sacklers, given the scale of the fallout from the destruction of the rainforest.

IN DEFENSE OF the project, a Blackstone spokesperson noted that it had been approved by the International Finance Corporation, an affiliate of the World Bank, and that the IFC had determined that the project would, in fact, reduce carbon emissions. Blackstone also forwarded a statement that it credited to Hidrovias, which also emphasized the support of the IFC:

Hidrovias has always worked within the highest Environmental, Social and Governance (“ESG”)  standards, constantly evaluated by audits from international multilateral agencies, such as the World Bank – IFC (International Finance Corporation). In addition, Hidrovias maintains all the environmental  licenses required by the competent authorities.

The IFC has financed some of the world’s most environmentally destructive projects, so its endorsement in itself is not particularly persuasive. But even on its own terms, the IFC’s study of the Blackstone project calls the project’s sustainability into question. Transporting soy or grain by waterway is indeed a less carbon-intensive method of transport, the IFC correctly noted in its report. But, it went on, that assessment doesn’t take into account the reality that “the construction of the Miritituba port, close to still-intact areas of the Amazon forest, is likely to lower transport costs for farmers and thereby accelerate conversion of natural habitats into agricultural areas, particularly for soy production.”

The project is OK, the bank argued, because Hidrovias and its clients can be trusted to be responsible, and that “the Miritituba port is being purpose-built to handle soy traded only by responsible traders who are sensitive to the preservation of natural habitats.” The bank assured that “100% of the company’s transport capacity in the North System is contracted to large trading companies, which observe high levels of governance and abide by the Amazon Soy Moratorium. The Moratorium, which prohibits purchasing soy produced on illegally deforested lands, was originally negotiated in 2006 between the big traders, Greenpeace, and Brazilian authorities. It has been renewed on a yearly basis since then.”

The moratorium, however, is only as strong as the government’s ability to monitor it. Proving that soy was grown on illegally deforested lands is highly difficult, as land-grabbers move quickly to clear forest and sell the newly cleared land to ranchers or agribusiness operators who quickly put it into cultivation and later claim that they had no way of knowing it was illegally deforested. The scheme also presumes that the government is interested in regulating agribusiness; the Bolsonaro administration has been quite explicit that it is not interested in doing so, putting top agribusiness officials in key posts, while defunding regulatory agencies.

And even if it were somehow true that all of the soy shipped from the Hidrovias port met all the requirements of the moratorium, commodity markets are fluid. A new port for the big traders eases congestion and lowers transportation costs elsewhere for smaller traders, thereby encouraging more development and more cultivation. (The IFC noted that Hidrovias promised to watch its soy clients closely: “HDB will establish and maintain internal procedures to review clients’ compliance with all provisions of Amazon Soy Moratorium or any other relevant legal requirements aimed at preventing trade in soy produced in illegally deforested areas. If the purpose of the port or the mix of HDB’s clients changes, the company will advise IFC of such changes and may be required to undertake further due diligence to ensure that these do not lead to undesirable indirect impacts.”)

The final justification the IFC made for the project comes down to incrementalism. Other development is also happening, the bank noted, so this single port can only cause so much harm. It concluded that “the port’s incremental contribution to the overall reduction of transport costs is judged to be marginal, given the myriad other factors (paving of B.R.-163, installation of other ports in Miritituba district, etc.) that are contributing to development in the region.” Bolsonaro has plans to pave significantly more roads in the Amazon that have otherwise been impassable much of the year, a project made feasible by international financing.

Of course, Hidrovias is also involved in paving B.R.-163 and other development projects in the region. Those projects, such as the paving of the highway, have additional indirect — though entirely predictable — consequences, as they spur side roads that make previously difficult-to-reach areas of the Amazon accessible for mining, logging, or further deforestation.

A Blackstone spokesperson noted that the fund only owns 9.3 percent of Hidrovias. But that ignores the 55.8 percent of Hidrovias that is owned by Pátria Investimentos. On Hidrovias’s website, Pátria is described as a company “in partnership with Blackstone,” and it is known in the financial industry to be a Blackstone company. A November 2018 article in Private Equity News about Bolsonaro’s election was headlined: “Blackstone’s Pátria: Brazilian Democracy is Not in Danger.”

It quoted the company’s chief economist assuring the public that “descent into authoritarianism is exceedingly unlikely.” That prediction has not borne out terribly well, but Blackstone appears to remain a strong supporter of Bolsonaro. The Brazilian president traveled to New York in May to be honored at a gala, which was sponsored by Refinitiv — a company majority-owned by Blackstone.

Ryan Grim is the author of “We’ve Got People: From Jesse Jackson to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, the End of Big Money and the Rise of a Movement.”

Phroyd

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

The Perfect Moment: Chapter 6

Summary: When Cyrus is assigned to create a modern re-telling of “Romeo and Juliet” for English class, he decides to produce a movie. His stars, however, may pose some trouble. Will he finish his movie on time?

A/N: This is the second to the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, and commented!

“I like this shot but the lighting doesn’t look right.”

Cyrus leaned in to peer at the clip T.J. was pointing at on the laptop. The jock was right, the glare was too much. But, it was a really nice shot of T.J. and Buffy at the park. Maybe they could fix it with a filter or adjusting the brightness?

“Add it in and leave me a note, please,” Cyrus said.

“Okay, boss.”

He resisted the urge to blush but flashed the jock a grateful smile before returning his attention to his own laptop.

It had been 3 days of non-stop filming and after each shoot, T.J. would walk him home, stay for a few hours to help him pick out clips and edit, they would do a little homework, then he would have dinner with Cyrus and his family before heading home.

They only had two more scenes to film the next day. Then, Cyrus would finish editing and submit his finished work on Friday. Mr. Spencer said that they would show his film in class and he was half-excited and half-terrified about it. On the one hand, he wanted his work to be seen by people other than his friends but on the other, he was afraid that his classmates would hate it and cast him aside as a social pariah. 

No pressure. 

“So… we’re almost done, huh?” T.J. randomly said out of nowhere.

Cyrus hummed. “Yeah, time flew by pretty fast. I can’t believe we managed to get here with minimal injury. Though, I think my nose will always remember.”

Both boys chuckled at that. The bruise had faded by now but Cyrus had been embarrassed and even considered sneaking some of his stepmom's concealer to cover it up.

“That’s your battle scar, Underdog,” T.J. replied, nudging his shoulder. “You braved through it.”

Cyrus could feel his ears burning again. “Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he turned away. “Do you want to take a break from this? Maybe we can rehearse your lines?”

T.J. was already closing the laptop and putting it on the coffee table. “Sounds good.”

He picked up the new script beside it while Cyrus dug his copy out of his book bag. He flipped to the end. Folding his legs under him, he turned his body around so he could face the jock.

“I’ll be Quinn,” he stated, fighting a blush.

T.J. mirrored his position and smirked. “Go ahead… Quinn.”

Cyrus tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest. Instead, he looked down at the script and began to read.

“We need to talk,” he said, getting in the role of Quinn.

As Logan, T.J. nodded, solemnly

“I think it’s best that we stop seeing each other.”

“What? Why?”

“Logan…” Cyrus sighed. “We’ve hurt our team and ourselves, quite literally. The more we keep pushing our relationship, the more we’ll hurt everyone around us.”

“They’re going to accept us. They have to.”

“It’s not about acceptance. It’s about us just… losing ourselves in this thing we think is love.”

T.J. waited a few beats and, in a soft voice, said, “Don’t you love me?”

Cyrus swallowed. “I do…”

“But, you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“I…just need space and time. And I think you do, too.”

T.J. grabbed Cyrus’ hand (he tried not to jump because T.J. was simply playing a role). “But, I love you.”

Cyrus hesitated before reaching out to place a hand on T.J.’s cheek. “I love you, too. But, it doesn’t mean that we’re meant to be. At least, not right now. I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Quinn…”

They waited a few beats before Cyrus smiled. “That was great, Teej!”

T.J. beamed, squeezing Cyrus’ hand (which he just realized the jock never let go of).

“Buffy is supposed to pull her hand away after that,” T.J. replied.

“Y-Yeah.”

Cyrus dropped his hand from T.J.’s cheek but the latter still didn’t release his hand. The jock’s hand was much bigger than his and kind of rough from all the sports he did.

“So… um… what do you think of the ending?” he asked.

T.J. pursed his lips. “It’s kinda sad. After going through a lot to be together… just to have it end like that…” His thumb absentmindedly stroked Cyrus’ knuckles. “it’s not death, but it’s still pretty…”

He trailed off.

“Tragic?” Cyrus supplied.

“Yeah. It’s tragic. But, I guess it happens?” He turned on his seat (still holding Cyrus’ hand) and leaned back against the couch. “I can’t imagine saying that I’m so in love with someone and just giving up on them like that.”

Cyrus followed his move. “It’s not like Quinn is giving up. She’s just… giving themselves more room to grow. And if they’re really meant to be, they’ll get together, one way or another. I mean, T.J., they’re still in middle school.”

He turned his head to see T.J. frown. “So, you’re saying that you can’t fall in love in middle school? Or if you do, it’s not real?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Cyrus replied, quickly. “I think what they have is real. It’s just… not the right time for them.”

“Then… when is the right time?” T.J. sounded genuinely upset about that.

Cyrus hesitated to answer. He didn’t want to say the wrong words.

“Sorry,” T.J. suddenly said. “That was a convoluted question. Don’t mind me.”

“No, not at all. I guess… I don’t really have an answer for that.”

“That’s fair.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Cyrus became even more aware of the hand in his. He wasn’t sure if T.J. was holding his hand on purpose or just forgot that he was. Either way, Cyrus was savoring the feeling. It was nice, holding hands. He liked holding hands. He found it quite intimate.

“Hey, Cy.”

Cyrus turned his head to him. “Yes?”

T.J.’s hand tightened in his as he visibly swallowed.

Cyrus felt himself scoot closer. “What is it, T.J.?”

T.J. slowly leaned in. “I… um… So I…”

Cyrus bit his lip. “Yes?”

“I…”

The sound of a lock turning made them both freeze. T.J. released his hand and leaned back just as the door opened.

“Hey, kids.” Cyrus’ mother entered, hands full with her purse and what appeared to be groceries. “Hard at work, I see.”

“Yeah,” Cyrus managed.

“We’re almost done,” T.J. added.

Sharon smiled at them. “T.J., you’re staying for dinner, yes?”

The jock nodded with a smile of his own. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Perfect! It will be ready in an hour!”

Sharon headed to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

They sat in awkward silence, not sure if they should continue their conversation or not.

Finally, T.J. grabbed the laptop on the coffee table. “Let’s finish up?” he asked.

Cyrus silently nodded, reaching for his own.

They worked in silence until dinner.

……..........

“Don’t you love me?”

“I do…”

“But, you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“I…just need space and time. And I think you do, too.”

“But, I love you.”

“I love you, too. But, it doesn’t mean that we’re meant to be. At least, not right now. I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Quinn…”

“Good-bye.”

“Quinn!”

“And… cut!”

T.J. broke out of character and turned to Cyrus who was beaming at him from behind the camera.

“Great job, you two! Let’s move on to the hallway and film the last scene!”

Nodding, T.J. followed him and Jonah out of the classroom and into the hallway, where the extras along with Buffy and Andi were waiting.

The last scene shows Quinn and Logan passing each other in the halls. They look at each other for a moment and continue to walk on. The two Captains notice them ignoring each other and show a brief look of regret for driving a wedge between them.

It was a simple scene but Cyrus said that it spoke volumes on the tragic way their relationship ended.

T.J. and Buffy positioned themselves on opposite sides of the hallway. Jonah’s camera was on Buffy while Cyrus’ was on T.J. With them were the members of their team, acting as extras.

“Extras, ready?”

They gave the affirmative.

“And… action!”

They moved, walking up and down the hallway, chatting.

“Okay, T.J. and Buffy, go!”

T.J. walked forward with his head down and a slight limp, emphasizing Logan’s leg injury. When he reached the designated spot, he looked up, the same time that Buffy did. She had a cast on, to show Quinn’s own injury. They looked at each other for 5 seconds before Buffy looked away first and continued walking. T.J., too, turned his head away and walked on.

After they left the shot, the two Captains meet in the middle, looking forlorn. They looked at each other, regretful, before they also parted from each other.

“And… cut!”

“That was perfect, guys!”

Cyrus looked excited as he looked up from the camera, beaming at all of them.

“We’ll do two more takes, okay? Re-set!”

T.J. went back to his original spot. Andi came by a minute later to fix his makeup and his hair.

“You, guys, did great,” she complimented.

“Thanks, Andi.”

Nodding at him, she bounded off.

“Is everyone ready?”

Everyone gave the affirmative.

They shot the scene two more times. At the end of the last take, as soon as Cyrus yelled, “Cut! That’s a wrap!”, everyone broke into applause.

Buffy and Andi both ran up to Cyrus, hugging him. T.J. wanted to do the same but he stayed in place, wanting to them their moment. He would try to ask for his later.

His teammates surrounded him, instead, clapping his back and congratulating him on a job well done.

“Everyone, thank you so much for being a part of this project!” Cyrus called out over the noise. “I’ve had such a thrill working with all of you, especially my stars! T.J. and Buffy!”

Everyone clapped, hooted, and whistled. T.J. felt pride blossom in his chest at having accomplished something amazing.

“To reward you all for your hard work, milkshakes on me at The Spoon! This Saturday!”

That declaration received another cheer.

While everyone cleaned up and gathered their things, T.J. finally managed to pull Cyrus aside.

“Congratulations, Underdog!” he greeted.

Cyrus beamed up at him. “Thank you! But, my work is not done! I still have to cut and edit today’s footage!”

“I’ll help,” T.J. replied with no hesitation.

Cyrus didn’t seem surprised anymore at his offer. Instead, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around T.J.

“Thank you!”

He pulled away much too quickly and the jock lamented the loss of the warmth. Nonetheless, that brief hug made him happy as a bee.

“Hey, Cyrus. Congratulations,” a new voice joined in.

They both turned around to the newcomer.

“Marty!” Cyrus exclaimed.

The track star grinned. “Hope you didn’t mind if I watched that last take? Sorry I couldn’t help before.”

“Not at all! It’s fine!” Cyrus looked over at Buffy, who was busy talking to some of her teammates to notice Marty. “I think Buffy was more upset that it wasn’t you who starred with her.”

Marty pursed his lips. “I heard she and Kippen here made things hard for you.”

T.J. would be offended at that if it wasn’t true. Fortunately, Cyrus didn’t seem to take it to heart. In fact, he laughed.

“At first, they did, but they ended up being fantastic actors! Especially T.J.! His heart eyes are spot on!”

“Is that so?”

The track star flashed T.J. a look. He simply shrugged in response.

“Well, congratulations again.” Marty looked over at Buffy. “I’m gonna go congratulate the Slayer.”

He patted Cyrus’ arm, nodded at T.J., and went on his way.

Together, they watched him approach Buffy and surprise her with a poke on her cheek. And even from afar and even though Buffy acted irritated, they could see the joy in her eyes at seeing the track star there.

“He really likes her, huh?” T.J. couldn’t help but comment, wishing he had Marty’s guts.

“Yeah,” Cyrus agreed, smiling at the sight. “He would have made a great Logan. Not that you weren’t great!” he added, quickly.

T.J. had to laugh at his panicked tone.

“Because you were a fantastic Logan!”

T.J. decided not to tease him for now. Instead, he reached over and ruffled Cyrus’ hair.

“Thanks, Cy.”

He was pleased to see the cute blush appear on the other boy’s cheeks.

……..........

They were on his couch again, backs lazily against it, as they stared at the open laptop in front of them.

After an hour and a half of cutting clips, editing, and rendering, Cyrus was finally done. His movie came out to 28 minutes and 45 seconds, cutting it very close to what Mr. Spencer required of him. Now, the video was loading to a DVD and he would make a copy on a flash drive, just in case.

So, he and T.J. were just relaxing now while they waited for it to finish.

“I know I said it so many times already, but it really was fun, Underdog.”

Cyrus hummed and turned his head to look at him. “I’m glad.” He sighed. “I’ll have to admit, doing this project was exhausting, but it’s brought back a bit of my confidence. Now, we’ll just have to see if the class likes it tomorrow.”

“I’m sure they will.” T.J. grinned. “You had some great actors.”

“Yeah, Buffy was amazing.”

T.J. wrinkled his nose. “Ouch. You wound me so, Underdog.” He chuckled. “But, I’ll let it go for today because I like you.”

The unexpected statement caused Cyrus’ brain to stop working for a hot second.

“Uhh… I…”

A short alert sounded off from his laptop, indicating that the movie had finished transferring to the DVD. Clearing his throat, Cyrus practically flew off the couch to his laptop, hoping T.J. didn’t see his reddening face. 

By the number of times he had been blushing this entire week, Cyrus might as well turn into a tomato and grow in his step-mother’s garden.

He busied himself by opening the CD drive and removing the disk. Then, he popped in a flash drive and saved the movie there too.

He turned to T.J. with the disk at hand, smiling. “Wanna watch it?”

“Heck yeah!”

Cyrus bounded over to the T.V. and crouched down in front of it. He turned on the DVD player, popped the disk in, and grabbed the remote. Settling himself back on the couch, he pressed play.

They, first, watched the movie in silence. The acting was mediocre at best, Cyrus had to be honest about that. From the corner of his eye, he spied T.J. flinching and looking away whenever he saw himself onscreen. Cyrus had to hold back his own giggles.

And, then, the gazebo scene began. The acting, by this point, was better. T.J. and Buffy had gotten into their characters a bit better than in the previous scenes.

“My hair looked good,” T.J. commented.

Cyrus finally allowed himself a laugh. “You’re so humble.”

But, he couldn’t argue with that either. T.J. looked handsome, especially with the lighting and the way his eyes looked as they gazed at Buffy. He was really good at looking in love.

Cyrus’ heart was racing, unable to tear his eyes away.

“I’d give it all up for you. The team. My position. Everything if it means I can be with you.”

He knew that those were Logan’s lines but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder…

“You’re right,” T.J. said, softly. “That was the perfect moment.”

Cyrus chuckled, gaze still on the T.V. “And you did it, perfectly.”

He felt a shoulder and a leg press against his side.

“Do you know… who I was thinking about the entire time?”

Cyrus felt himself tense up. “I told you guys to think about the person you liked.”

“Yeah.”

His chest twitched and he absentmindedly scratched at it. “So, you were doing that, yes?” he asked, casually.

“Yeah.”

A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed. “My technique worked well then.”

He turned to look at T.J. to smile but froze when he saw that T.J. was already watching him with the soft look on his face. His eyes were the same as the ones he showed when he was Logan, the eyes that made hearts speed up and knees buckle.

“It wasn’t just your technique, you know,” T.J. said.

By now, neither of them were paying attention to the movie.

Cyrus couldn’t find the words to say so he stayed silent.

“It was you,” T.J. continued, smiling.

Cyrus felt a hand over his and briefly looked down to see T.J.’s fingers intertwining with his. He looked up again, his heart beating fast against his chest and loud in his ears.

“M-Me?” he managed.

T.J. hummed as he nodded. “All of my scenes with Buffy? I would close my eyes and open them and see… you. After every one of them, I have to look at you to make sure that you’re there.”

Cyrus felt himself release a soft gasp of realization. He thought back on the past couple of days, filming with T.J. The jock wasn’t just looking at him to confirm if he did his scene okay. He would look at him because… he wanted to.

“Why are you telling me this?” Cyrus softly asked.

T.J. chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Cyrus swallowed, unable to find his voice.

“The right timing. The right mood. Everything feels like it’s disappearing and it’s just you and me.” T.J. squeezed his hand. “It’s the perfect moment.”

And with that, he began to lean in.

Cyrus’ breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t move. His heart was beating faster than ever and all he could see in front of him were T.J.’s green eyes and pretty lips that looked really soft and his own eyes were closing and…

The turn of a key and the door opening felt like a lightning bolt fell in between them. The two boys broke apart, their hands leaving each other. 

Cyrus couldn’t help but be disappointed and lament the loss.

“Hi, boys! Working late again?”

“H-Hi Sharon,” Cyrus managed.

“Hi Miss Frank,” T.J. followed, his voice steadier than Cyrus’.

His step-mother entered the living room.

“We’re actually done.” Cyrus gestured to the T.V. where his movie was still playing.

“Oh, I see that! We should all watch it after dinner! T.J., you’re staying, yes?”

T.J. coughed before standing up. “Actually, I have to head home a bit early tonight, Miss Frank. I’m sorry. Another time?”

Cyrus looked up at him, eyes wide and confused. Weren’t they just having a moment?! Why was he leaving?!

“Of course. Thank you again for helping Cyrus with his project.”

“It was my pleasure.” He smiled at Sharon before turning to the other boy, who was still frozen and seated on the couch. “I’m sure your film will be great, Cy. I’ll see you at school.”

And with that, the jock turned on his heels and headed towards the door.

“Cyrus, honey? Are you okay?”

Breaking out of his frozen stupor, Cyrus knew that he couldn’t just let T.J. get away. Why confess something like that and just leave?! That was so unfair! He didn’t even get a chance to answer him!

“I’ll be right back,” he said to his step-mother before moving towards the door.

He stepped out to see that T.J. was already halfway down the path.

“T.J.!”

Immediately, the jock turned around, looking adorably confused.

It could have been adrenaline. Or excitement. Or some inner brave part of him. But, Cyrus’ legs moved on their own and he let them. He ran up to T.J., meeting him right there in the middle. For a moment, he only looked at him and T.J. gazed right back.

Lifting himself up on his tiptoes, Cyrus kissed his cheek.

“Good night,” he said. “And thank you. Again. Get home, safely, okay?”

Feeling embarrassed at his sudden act, he ran back into his house, closing the door behind him.

He could feel not only his face was red and warm but his entire body, too.

Oh, god, he kissed T.J.!

Tag list:

@lemon-boy-tj @homosexualearthworm

@disastrxlogy

@new-to-the-phandom

@tyrusgoingfast

@tj-cyrus

@completelysterling

@spike-heels

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@thedampjofangirl

@i-am-confussion

@buffyshirley

@azuresoulsblog

@cxrus-kippen

@tyrus-endgayme-confirmed 

@barely-even-simming

@birthistheend

@angel28716

[opedguy]

NATO to Provide Ukraine Air Defenses

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), Oct. 20, 2022.--Complaining about Iran delivering kamikaze drones and surface-to-air missiles to Russia, NATO Secretary-General Jens Stoltenberg announced today that the 30-member alliance will deliver air defense systems to Ukraine.  Yet the U.S. and NATO have condemned Iran’s delivery of Iran’s kamikaze drones AKA Shahed-136 to Russia, prompting denials from Russia and Iran.  But why is it OK for the U.S. and NATO to supply Ukraine sophisticated lethal weapons but not OK for Iran or China to do the same for Russia?  Whatever the double standard, Russia has its allies much like the U.S., depending on allies to supply arms-and-cash to defeat the Russian Federation.  So as long as there’s an active war between the U.S. and Russia, it’s unrealistic to think that Russia’s allies, just like Ukraine’s, wouldn’t provide whatever cash-and-weapons their ally would need to win the war.

When it comes to the Russian Federation, 79-year-old President Joe Biden doesn’t think 70-year-old Russian President Vladimir Putin has a right to defend himself from the U.S. and NATO alliance giving everything to Ukraine except troops and a no-fly-zone. So when questioning why the U.S. and NATO view Ukraine as a close ally, why has the U.S. and NATO not committed troops or a no-fly-zone to Ukraine? Ukarine’s 44-year-old President Voldymyr Zelensky has begged for NATO membership or U.S. and NATO troops from Day 1, Feb. 24 of the conflict.  Western nations and the press condemn Iran for supplying their kamikaze drones and surface-to-air missiles, something the U.S. and NATO do readily for Ukraine.  As long as an active war between the U.S. and Russia goes on, there’s no way to restrict where the weapons come from.  Iran has cultivated close ties to the Kremlin.

Iran and Russia have much in common today, considered pariah regimes by the West for various war interests.  Russian used to have cooperative relations with the U.S. until Biden decided to wage proxy war against the Russian Federation.  Whatever the reason given by Biden for picking Ukraine over the Russian Federation, Ukraine offers the U.S. no strategic benefit to U.S. foreign policy.  Zelensky has warned the West of Russia’s attempt at genocide against the Ukrainian people.  Zelensky accuses Putin of seeking to reestablish the old Soviet Union, taking over current NATO countries in Eastern Europe.  Zelensky tells the West routinely that if they stopped fighting Russia, it would soon take over Eastern Europe, in former Soviet republics.  Giving every excuse why the West should commit troops and a no-fly-zone, Zelensky has no problem asking the U.S. and NATO for cash and military help.

With all the West’s sanctions on Iran, they have sought closer ties to the Russian Federation, hoping to gain access to the BRICS economic bloc, including Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa.  Iran’s decision to defy the White House and supply Russia with Shahed-136 drones and surface-to-air missiles will no doubt result in more sanctions, something that’s hurt Iran economically, especially with its global oil business.  “Russia’s deepening alliance with Iran is something the whole world, especially those in the region and across the world frankly, should be seen as a threat and something that any country should pay very close attention to,” said State Department Spokesman Verdant Patel.  Should the world, especially allies of Russia, be concerned about the Ukraine’s growing ties to the U.S. and NATO?  When it comes to war, both sides have allies, regardless of differing loyalties

India’s Prime Minister Narenda Modi and Chinese President Xi Jinping told Putin that he should wrap up the war at the earliest possible time.  Both Russian allies oppose the war, while, at the same time, supporting their ally, the same way the U.S. and NATO support Ukraine.  Some military experts indicate that Russia is running out of weapons to fight the Ukraine war, now going to allies for more weapons.  North Korean dictator Kim Jong-up offered Putin more ballistic missiles if he needs them.  As long as the war trundles on, both sides can expect to get weapons from various places.  Why Biden thinks he can limit Putin’s access to weapons from his allies in anyone’s guess?  No one questions Ukraine’s right to get weapons from every source available.  But given the no-holds-barred nature of the war, it seems that both sides should take advantage of active efforts to move the conflict to peace table.

Ranting about where Putin gets his weapons to prosecute the Ukraine War is a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.  Both sides get weapons from their allies, with Russia now getting some ballistic weapons help from Iran.  If the war morphs into WW III, something dreaded in Europe, there’s no question that China and India could commit troops and weapons to the Russian Federation.  Many countries do not agree with Biden’s attempt to topple the Russia government or, as 69-year-old Defense Minister Lloyd Austin says, to degrade the Russian military to the point it can no longer wage war.  Whatever differences with Ukraine, the war is not worth fighting WW III on the European Continent or certainly not waging nuclear war.  U.S. and NATO have been negligent over the last eight months on working feverishly with U.N. peacemakers to end the war at the earliest possible time.

About the Author    

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.