#tank mixing educator

[ultravi0lence14]

Rhiannon

dean winchester x hippie!reader

1.4k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: as stevie nicks once said; wouldn’t you love to love her. dean could agree with that statement. one hundred percent.

*based on this request

the early morning sun shined in through your window, arrays of pinks, purples and blues mixing in from the multiple coloured crystals and little stained glass designs you had bought. this is why dean loved coming to your apartment. the atmosphere. all the comfort and peace the you had brought into it.

you were the calm that dean needed in his hectic life. the anchor the held him down when things got too much.

he met you when sam had left for stanford, the wounds fresh as he threw back shot after shot in a dingy bar. you were just passing through, a couple of miles away from your apartment and needing to quickly stop somewhere to use the bathroom.

dean’s eyes caught you moving across the bar, the way your jeans hugged your lower half and the flower pattern on your tank top drawing him in. when you retreated from the ladies room, dean was on you like a predator on prey, attempting to elicit a little one night stand.

but you politely declined. though when you tried to walk away from the beaten down man, you saw something else entirely in his eyes.

he looked sad, and you couldn’t help but a feel a bit of empathy for the guy in front of you.

that is how you were raised. your parents telling you to always look for the good in people, being aware of emotions. you weren’t stupid, you understood when people were trying to take advantage of you. but you just liked to be helpful, wanting to make an impact one person at a time.

for the rest of the night, you sat with dean in a booth as he rambled on about his brother and what had happened. he told you that he understood why sam wanted to go on to get a higher education, but he just couldn’t understand why it had to be so far away; why it made their father so angry.

you comforted him the best to your ability. explaining that sometimes people needed a change in their life, and just because his brother left for university doesn’t mean he stopped loving him.

when you both went your separate ways in the parking lot, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble in dean’s step. he knew he was too intoxicated to drive, and was fully prepared to sleep in the impala stationed in the parking lot of the bar.

something inside of you believed that you needed to be of help to this man. and in hindsight, you did the stupidest thing you possibly could’ve done. the one thing parents always warned their kids not to do.

you invited dean to crash at your place.

it was dumb, you knew that. you had just met dean, and he could be an axe murderer for all you know. but the guy was really going through it. and he was so drunk, that you believed the weight of any harmful object in his hands would probably knock him down.

that night, dean slept on your couch, peaceful snores leaving his lips as you slept comfortably in your bed. when he woke up in the morning, dean completely forgot where he was. and then it all came back to him. seeing you in the bar, trying to sleep with you, you turning him down, which then turned into a therapy session that landed him to crash on your couch.

dean was fully planning on leaving, but he couldn’t help himself in taking a peak around your place.

from the couch, he could see the multitude of plants and flowers the covered your living space. it was like a garden, a comforting vibe that also warranted a lovely smell to the home.

there was colour all over the place. from the stained glass lamps on coffee tables to the rows of crystals hanging on string in front of your window. everything was so bright and colourful, and dean couldn’t help himself but stare at the moving colours across the wall.

he also smelt a lingering lavender smell, which was then over powered by the aroma of bacon and pancakes coming from somewhere else in your home. dean couldn’t help himself, he loved bacon. so like a man hypnotized, he followed the debilitating scent of bacon that lingered throughout the air.

as he made his way into the kitchen, he found that the rest of your home was just like the living area. adorned by breezy light pink curtains was a small window over your sink, housing mini plants a crystals alike. there were flowers everywhere. an arrangement by the stove, on the counter, even in the sink. it was overwhelming, but in a good way.

“wow,” he mumbled, groggily slumping into one of the bar stools in front of your counter. “that’s a lot of flowers.”

dean’s voice brought a laugh from your lips, making him look over to where you stood by the stove, stacking pancakes possibly as tall as he was. to this day, dean doesn’t know what it was in the room. all the flowers and greenery, the slight breeze from the open window, maybe it was just your intoxicating beauty. but at that very moment, you looked absolutely ethereal.

you just looked so pretty. the long white skirt falling loosely on your hips. the simple black t shirt that made a perfect canvas for the two braids you put in your hair. he looked down to notice that you were wearing crazy coloured striped socks on your feet, and dean couldn’t help but smile at the little pop of colour that you added to your otherwise basic outfit.

bringing over two plates of breakfast, you sat beside dean at the counter and ate together, just talking and getting to know one another.

it was a simple morning, filled with laughs and weird fun facts that you two threw each others way. when you told him you planned to go to the farmers market, dean couldn’t help himself in taking your offer to come with.

he had never even been to one, not even caring in the slightest for what they had to offer. but some part of dean didn’t want this day to end, and in his heart, he knew he wanted to get to know you more.

you two spent the late morning walking around the farmers market, you grabbing some fresh produce and more crystals as dean took in his surroundings. some of the people he saw looked a little weird, but he knew they probably meant well, and that everything here honestly wasn’t so bad.

when you had grabbed a couple assortments of flowers, telling dean you planned to make some flower crowns at home, he also couldn’t resist in coming back to your place and weaving the stems together by your side.

you two were in a comfortable silence, weaving the crowns in synchrony when dean couldn’t help but break it. “why do you like flowers so much? i can’t help but notice how many you have in your living room alone.”

his words elicited a gorgeous smile from you, and you then went on to explain why you held them so dearly to your heart. “there is just something so beautiful about a flower. they start from a simple seed, then grow into something amazing. i know that probably sounds dumb and i might sound insane, but i just love the whole ideology of it.

“that isn’t dumb, and you most definitely don’t sound insane.” dean had placed his flowers on the ground, slowly reaching out to grab your hand. “in my life, i have to look for the good things at any chance i can find. it’s sometimes nice to have a flower grow out of a bad situation.”

his words brought a soft smile to your lips, and you squeezed his hand before going back to your weaving. “you know, i didn’t expect you to go so philosophical on me there winchester.”

dean grinned back, grabbing his flowers again and following your motions. “well, i’m just full of surprises, flower.”

after that, you and dean spent so much time together. and when dean finally got the courage to kiss you for the first time, it was like everything was more clear to him.

he understood sam’s leaving, and he even tried to reach out to him. he started coming into his own, becoming his own person and even fighting back to his father when he called you a temporary distraction.

that was all years ago. and now, as dean laid beside you, checking his phone to see if sam texted him about any cases, he couldn’t help but silently thank you for all that you’ve done for him.

with a kiss on your cheek, and a mumbled, “i love you, flower,” dean peacefully fell back asleep with you in his arms, completing him in ways he never knew he needed.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 7

Mickey Milkovich + Wrestling or sparring

Still been studying, thanks to my teacher giving us twice as much work than usual, so this isn’t as long as I would have wanted.

I have no idea what warning to put for Mickey talking and thinking the way he does, but mickey warning I guess??

kinktober 2023 masterlist

Mickey Milkovich wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, it laid deep in his blood to never go down, and if he did, to go down swinging. Even just playfighting always lead to real scuffling or outright fighting resulting in bloody noses or knocked out teeth. Apparently, he had anger issues, and they always seemed to flare right up when someone got him swinging. It was why he found himself in some less than stellar gym in the south side, run by some gay guy and his friends.

Everyone knew about the gym’s main owner, (Y/N), his family had lived in the south side as long as anyone else’s, were mixed up in the same stuff as everyone else, and got into trouble like everyone else. Only difference about this guy was that he was openly gay, and would knock anyone out cold if they tried to target him for it. Mickey had found him at the ends of his fists a couple of times, and had always woken up with the sickest migraines, maybe even concussions, though he had never gone to the hospital about it.

(Y/N) had left the south side for a while, apparently he was off to get an education on a scholarship, but strangely enough he had returned to the shithole that was the south side. No one had recognized him as first. He left as a skinny guy who packed an insanely mean left and right hook, and came back packed in muscle and taller, with a confidence that few saw in gay guys in the south side. His muscles weren’t for show either, as rumors quickly spread that his hits were not only harder but quicker than ever.

Then he had opened up a gym for anyone who wasn’t gonna start trouble, and if you did start trouble, he took care of you real quick and efficiently. He had quirked a brow as Mickey stepped into the gym, but like he never questioned the local gun dealer being there, he wasn’t gonna question a milkovich being there as long as he paid. Mickey went about his business, taking out some of his burning anger on the punching bags, trying to put all the hatred and anger in his soul into those punches.

Mickey almost swung around and knocked (Y/N)s teeth out when the taller guy had placed his hand on Mickeys shoulder. “You’re standing all wrong, you’ll mess up your shoulders” he explained, his strong hands grabbing Mickeys arms and pulling him into the better pose.

Mickey wasn’t gonna ever admit that he felt warmth rise to his cheeks as (Y/N) grabbed him and moved him around, it was just cuz the guy was eyecandy around the south side. Few guys cared about their appearance around this part, so seeing a guy who actually bathed on the regular and walked around in tight tank tops always caught Mickeys attention. If Mickey wasn’t the type to deny himself so much, he might have seen how his appreciating stares were returned.

One night when Mickey showed up to the gym, a time where there were never anyone around but the owner, he had been stewing in anger. The punching bags just didn’t seem to be enough, even as Mickey cursed and made his knuckles bleed. (Y/N) had sauntered up in that tight tank top and a pair of sweats that left little to the imagination and goaded Mickey into a spar in the wrestling part of the gym.

In reality it was just some mats laid on the floor and against the walls, no way a place like this could afford an actually wresting ring, but it was good enough. Good enough for Mickey to charge at the guy, his normal south side approach foiled by (Y/N)s actual talent for fighting. Mickey only grew more and more angry the more he kept losing, even as his muscles ached and burned, even as he found himself pinned over and over against the mats.

Mickey growled at the smile on (Y/N)s lips, the guy had been smiling the entire time, and though he was sweating and breathing harder, it was in no way as much as Mickey himself. Even as Mickeys moves grew sloppy as he felt exhaustion creep up on him, his pride wouldn’t let him just give up or call quits.

(Y/N) must have felt some pity, as he finally let Mickey pin him, Mickey crouched above his head, pinning his shoulders with his legs and holding the taller man’s arms above his head. “Good job Mick, you finally got it” he laughed, looking almost too pleased as Mickey panted above him. “That deserves a reward, right?” he almost purred, and before Mickey could question it, (Y/N) had freed his hands and reached up towards the waistband on Mickeys pants.

Mickey choked on his breath as (Y/N) dragged his pants down, freeing Mickeys half hard length to the heated air of the gym. The sparring must have gotten the blood pumping in Mickeys system, and he shivered. On instinct alone Mickey almost jumped to his feet and spat some homophobic comment, but before he could warm lips wrapped around his tip and sucked him down, a broken gasp slipping from Mickeys lips at the action.

(Y/N)s hands gripped Mickeys hips as he lifted his torso to keep bopping his head, taking Mickey down his throat with skill one only got from repeating an action many times. Mickey gripped onto (Y/N)s hair as he thrust his hips with little to no rhythm, panting from the strain in his muscles and the pleasurable feeling as he grew fully hard, his toes curling in his shoes as he shivered.

Mickey groaned as he spilled down (Y/N)s throat, his muscles finally giving out, and if it wasn’t for (Y/N) catching him, he would have tumbled down onto the mats beneath them. Mickey didn’t even notice the murmured praise leaving the taller man, even as he tucked Mickeys spent length back into his pants or rubbed his sore muscles. Mickey didn’t even fully comprehend that he was pulled into what looked like a back room, or that he was placed on a comfortable sofa, or even that he dozed off.

It seemed that the energy that hadn’t been wrung out of him from the wrestling, had been sucked right out of him by the very man that had goaded him into said fight. (Y/N) gave a snort as he watched Mickey become dead to the world, leaving a water bottle beside him before leaving the office to go disinfect the mats. This might be the south side, but he was at least semi professional and serious about his business’s hygiene.

[425599167]

Fallout: New Vegas is all about rebuilding society in the Mojave, and the three given factions all attempt to do so by recreating the past. The NCR models itself on the now-destroyed United States, with all the problems involved. Caesar created the Legion in the image of Rome because he believed it could best thrive in the wasteland. Mr. House is arguably the most forward-thinking with his focus on technology and eventual interplanetary travel, but he still rebuilt New Vegas from his nostalgic recollections of the city. Building on the past isn't wrong, the problem is these three factions don't appear to be learning from anything that happened.

NCR characters never directly acknowledge that they're following the example of a society that destroyed itself. Caesar criticizes them for this, believing the republic functioned best while under the quasi-monarchy of Aradesh and Tandi. But Caesar ignores how 1) Rome also fell and 2) he's confronting the same problem as a brain tumor is on the verge of killing him. Even if you treat his tumor, he's still mortal. Caesar was given an education, and his knowledge of strategy and history let him build the Legion, which he then made anti-intellectual and revisionist. The society he created cannot replace him, and will fragment when he dies. House is more contemptuous of the pre-war world, but he still brought it back, and specifically assigned the Omertas with the role of ruthless mobsters who will kill anyone in their way. Apparently he thought that was a good idea.

This extends into the DLCs, too. Elijah plans to use the Sierra Madre to wipe the slate clean and restore the Brotherhood of Steel to their position of unrivaled power, with himself back as Elder. Every day, Joshua Graham feels the pain of being burned. The Think Tank scientists are all stuck in loops, stuck in the past, stuck with their flaws centuries after believing they overcame their humanity. For all my grievances with Lonesome Road, it fits the pattern, as Ulysses saw a new society forming, saw it burn, and couldn't move on. If you let Ulysses live, he has similar criticisms of the NCR, Legion, and House. They're all idealized recreations, like the Vera Keyes hologram. Let go, begin again.

Benny may be a weird mix of dangerous and absurd, but he contrasts the other factions well. He jumped at the chance to join House, fought his tribe's previous leader to make it happen, then planned to take down House, too. House dismisses Benny as not understanding complex technologies due to his tribal upbringing, but he built a computer lab attached to his suite and studies technology as best he can. Benny doesn't want to relive the past, he wants to move forward, he wants something better. You can kill him and take his role, or, when facing certain death at Caesar's hands, he'll explain his vision and ask you to see it through.

After replaying everything, though the other endings have understandable support, I think the Independent route fits the story's themes best, the only one where something definitively new is being built. The Courier isn't remaking anything. Part of this is simply open-ended roleplaying, allowing the player to imagine the character's completed goal. If you choose one of the other three, the Courier can work to correct their faction's flaws and counter the destructive nostalgia affecting them. The Independent ending isn't necessarily the "best" for the Mojave, the Courier's morality and a hundred other decisions determine that, but it is the most compelling conclusion to the story.

[slvthrs]

SWEET REVENGE AND GUITAR STRINGS | vinnie hacker

--- MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD ---

your ex-boyfriend decided to cheat on you- the sane course of action was sleeping with his enemy

ROCKSTAR!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, praise n degradation kink, unprotected sex (use birth control idiots), dressing room sex, slight violence and blood, blood kink if u squint

word count: 2.2k <3

Wrath.

Not even anger or rage- it was pure fucking red wrath. Your boyfriend of 2 years was cheating on you. He had the fucking audacity to cheat on you, and try to hide it. 

God did you want to kill him.

Your bestfriend Elle had sent you a video of him making out with some rando chick at a party and then taking her into a room to obviously have sex. You weren’t even sad, you just wanted to hurt him.

It was 3 days after you found out your boyfriend was cheating on you and the wrath hadn’t gone away. You’ve been ignoring every text, every message, every call- he was going to be so pissed. You were doing a pretty good job of not running into him but today he had a gig and you would have to end up going.

You and Elle were sitting on your bed in your underwear and bra eating a huge assortment of candy and snacks while re-watching Sex Education. 

“Wait have you confronted Theo about cheating on you yet” Elle asked with a lollipop between her lips

You groaned you wanted to but every time you thought about it all you could do was want to punch him “I wanted to trust me but I just wanna hurt him y’know I don’t need his half-assed apology”

“Wait so why don’t you just ditch his gig” Elle inquired

“I would but imagine your girlfriend just ditches you with an explanation because remember he doesn’t know I know he cheated on me” You threw your head back- it was gonna be really hard to get him back

“Hmm does he have like y’know enemies that you can y’know… fuck” Elle suggested

“Elle we’re not in a wattpad fan-fic, Theo doesn’t have enemies per say” You rolled your eyes… but he did have someone who pissed him off to no end

You shot up with a plan in mind, “But he does have someone he kinda hates” You said while you carding through your closet trying to find an outfit

“Oooh who” Elle sat up like a curious dog 

“Vinnie” The name was met with a huff from Elle

Vincent Cole Hacker, lead guitarist and singer of his band and adored by girls all over the country.

His killer style mixed with his rough hair and piercings accompanied with the rings he adorned on each hand which trailed across his guitar with so much purpose you couldn’t help but think what else they could do.

The same Vinnie Theo hated, and the same Vinnie who could never take his eyes off you.

“Babe you're super hot but I’ve legit never seen Vinnie without his army of girls following him, are you sure he’s the one?” Elle probes and she's right Vinnie’s a chick magnet, you’d be lucky to find him alone, but Elle was also right about the fact you were hot, the way your hair sat, framing your face and the way you would bite your fingers, and look up at guys, batting your eyelashes and giggling- toying with their feelings- you had boys begging for you.

But Vinnie was the one you wanted.

“I know, I know, but I have a plan trust me” 

You didn’t have a plan 

All you knew was that Vinnie stared at you for far too long to be considered platonic, and no sane guy would give up a chance to hook up with you.

After about 2 hours, you and Elle were ready. She was wearing a denim skirt with a pink tank top and pink converse adorned with little accessories, while you were wearing a black cropped top with Dominic Fike embroidered on without a bra so you could see your nipples poking through the fabric. Paired with a black mini-skirt and pantyhose which looked like it was attacked by an army of cats and a pair of platforms with some other accessories here and there- you looked enchanting.

The pair of you got there around 30 minutes later and broke off, with Elle waking to the bar to get some drinks and you trying to find your cheating ass boyfriend. 

The bass of all the people walking around made you want to turn on your heel and walk away. You had endured it for the sake of your boyfriend but now the air was filled with venom rather than admiration.

“There she is, hi baby” It sounded so goddamn awful coming from your boyfriends mouth but you had to play the part of the oblivious girlfriend for a little longer

“Hi Theo” You say with the only respect you have for him left and kiss his cheek

As he continues his conversation with his bandmates you zone out and look around while drinking some fruity drink his bandmates gave you. As you looked around you caught the addictive eyes of your target, Vinnie, and unsurprisingly he was checking you out, who wouldn't tbh.

As your staring competition played out you were quickly brought back to reality by your boyfriend telling you they were about to go on stage.

“Hey babe can I talk to you for a sec?” You asked and he went along with it, presumably thinking he was about to get some last minute action.

“Yeah baby, what do you want?” He asked, so fucking oblivious to what was about to happen.

“Who the fuck is this chick your making out with in this video” You said while playing out the video on your phone.

His mouth hung agape, this cunt thought he could have the audacity to be shocked.

“B-babe I don’t know what that is, I-I’m pretty sure I was like sure drunk” Seriously, the ‘I was drunk’ excuse? 

He can do better than that.

“Are you fucking serious, I’ve been drunk plenty of times and I’ve never fucking cheated on you” Every gross and terrible emotion was bubbling up from inside you as you were about to overflow

“I-it doesn’t even matter I just kissed her your fucking overreacting!” Overreacting, this fucking bitch thinks I’m over reacting

With gritted teeth you said “Oh I’m overreacting? I’m fucking overreacting, well you wanna see overreacting?” 

You didn’t even register what your body was doing before,

SNAP!

Fuck, your hand made contact with his face and there was a stream of red trickling down his nose while your knuckles were bruising up.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH” He yelled pushing you up against the wall, while his blood spilled on to your chest

On any other day you wouldn’t have been able to push him off but with the immense amount of rage mixed with adrenaline you were feeling you pushed him to the ground, with your head spinning you ran off into another room trying to catch your breath.

As you finally stood up from your hunched over position and walked over to the mirror in the room- shit my shirt has blood on it, I look like I killed someone

You try to get some tissues to take the blood off but it’s no use the blood is congealed and staining your white shirt so you grab a closed water bottle and try to figure out what dressing room you're in.

You hand slides across a red leather couch with stains and find a stack of polaroids.

As you shuffled through them you see a drummer and bassists clearly drunk and passed out on a sofa, in another one you can see a brunette making a face and flipping off the camera, and in the final one its a group photo 4 boys playing a song in front of a smaller audience- in the photo you spot a particular face- Vinnie.

And as fate has been so kind the tall blonde walks into the room as if on cue, “Oh shit, what are you doing here?”

But before you you can answer his eyes widen and he walks towards you, “Fuck are you okay” He says with knitted eyebrows as his hand hesitantly swiping the blood of your shirt.

“Yeah, it's not my blood” You say with a smile as you try to reassure him, but which only leads him to look at you, even wider eyed.

“It’s Theo’s” You continue as you sit down on the red sofa, “He kinda cheated on me so y’know he deserved it”

You play with your hands in your lap as you look up at Vinnie who's now sitting next to you with an unreadable expression.

“Well he fucking deserved it then” He says breaking the silence as you look up to meet his gaze, “If you we’re my girl, I’d cut my balls of before cheating on you”

You let out an obnoxious laugh while he follows you, “I’m serious though I would never do that, your to fucking hot for that.”

“Yeah yeah” You breathe out as you tip your head back on the sofa as you let Vinnie’s eyes rake over your body, huffing your chest so your tits press against your shirt, watching how he bites his lips.

“So any plans now that you're single” He was obviously trying to hint at you, so you played along.

“I dunno Vinnie, do you have any ideas for me?” You said sliding across the sofa, closer to the blonde boy

He hands trail over the blood on your shirt, staining his fingers and dragging his hand onto your jawline pulling your face up to his, so close but so fucking far, “I have a few ideas”

“Yeah”, You breathe out, “Show me”

Both of your lips interlock at a slow pace at first until he pulls your face away from him to breathe but his gaze drops to your spit covered lips and flushed out look before he smashes them up together for the second time and pulls you onto straddle his lap.

“God every fucking time I saw you with that prick I wanted to kill myself.” He confessed, letting his hands graze up your sides pulling your top off.

All you do in response is giggle whilst you tip your head back so he can lay a trail of saccharine sweet kisses from the base of your neck down to your tits. Your hands scratch his shoulders, bawling his shirt in your first hoping he’ll take it off.

And if Gods looking out for you, he pulls his shirt of ruffling if his hair and goes back to attack your chest with love bites, your hands reach to the back of his head grabbing a tuft of his hair as you throw your head back and moan as his teeth catch your nipples in his mouth.

“Vinnie, fuck oh my god” You moaned out, his hands moved to flip up your skirt and fondling your ass while you grind down on his hardened dick, then he takes shuffles around with his belt pulling it of and tossing it on the ground keeping you too connected with the bloody kisses falling from your lips on to his tan skin.

“Whenever he kissed you, touched you, my skin felt like it was on fucking fire,” He pulls of his pants with one swift motion as they fall to the ground with a light, airy thud, “He doesn’t fucking deserve you, your too hot for him,” 

You pull off of him to stare into his eyes, “Vinnie, I adore you, but if you bring up my ex one more damn time while we're about to have sex I’m getting up and leaving” You say will as emotionless of a face you can pull.

He airs out a breathy laugh but rather than replying he flips the two of you over onto the sofa and rips your skirt of, “Yes ma’am,” He starts, “But we both know your not leaving to go anywhere” 

He looks for a condom but I stop him, “I’m on birth control and your clean, don’t worry”, you say with the most poise you can muster whilst your under a 6 foot man

With his new found confidence, he lines up your entrance with his dick, carefully sliding in, going gently through your folds whilst you arch into the motion gasping out for him,

As your hands hook around his head to pull both of you into a kiss, he sets a ruthless pace, pounding into you like his life depends on it but not letting you relish a single moment of freedom.

He doesn’t stop for a second, not letting you rest whilst the entire room echos with sounds of skin slapping and it doesn’t stop, turning the melody of your skins coming in contact and the rhythm of your synched breathless moans turns the room into a orchestra of pleasure and carnal desire as both of you chase your release.

And it’s not far, you cum first with a loud moan and arching your back with your mouth in an ‘O’ shape and he’s not far behind cumming in you and dropping down on to you to place more hickeys all over you and claim you even more as his.

They say revenge is an act of passion, and while you're laying there, breath panting, legs sore and your ex-boyfriends biggest rival laying on top of you rubbing circles into your skin… you can’t help but think they're right, because what’s a bigger act of passion than sex? And what’s a bigger form of revenge than betrayal? And the best betrayal is the sight of your ex-boyfriend watching you limp out of a dressing room with your hair and makeup messed up whilst his rival follows behind you in an even worse state.

[rockyteriyaki]

TEAM BUILDING ACTIVITIES 👯

s/o to @powerful-owl for starting this meme and @disarmd for the insanely funny contribution, it’s such a delightful thought exercise! here’s my attempt:

MASCOTS!

american sports have hella mascots, so every team is tasked to create a marketable mascot that could represent them for u.s fans. they also have to build a little model to pitch the concept. there’s the williams whale sharks. the aston martin martinis. lando and oscar devise a walking papaya named penny who looks so much like a vulva oscar backs out almost instantly.

GUESS THE GRID based on clothing choices: drivers assemble an outfit they’d wear and then everyone else tries to guess who picked what. the catch is that the f1a girls did the same challenge and their answers are mixed in as well. everybody thinks doriane’s mercedes-themed picks are george’s and maya gets confused for charles even though there’s no ferrari branding to be seen. chloe’s picked a haas cap with a black skirt and we watch nico hulkenberg go through every emotion known to man trying to figure out why kevin would—???

(meanwhile the academy grid is absolutely ripping everybody’s style choices to shreds, accusing hamda of being the most basic bitch on the planet bc max chose to wear basketball shorts, etc)

PADDOCK SCAVENGER HUNT

5 teams are in on it and the other 5 can’t know what’s going on, otherwise they lose points. charles pretends that he’s too tired to walk when pierre catches him searching the top of a cabinet on carlos’ shoulders. oscar distracts williams while lando tries to get a picture of logan with red, white and blue objects in the background. yuki gets stranded on top of the rbr motorhome because daniel won’t stop using him for reconnaissance and the whole thing gets called off because max sees them squabbling on the roof and thinks the rapture has arrived.

GEORGE AND ALEX MAKE GRAPHICS

ib george’s natural talent for graphic design. the audience gets to see what a communications team actually does in motorsport (educational!) and george and alex get free reign of the entire library of press photos of eachother. george is hunting for a terrible picture of alex to edit onto a podium but ends up having a very verbal crisis about how none of the pap shots are appropriately bad and then spends the next half an hour digging himself into theeee deepest hole talking about how it’s just not as FUNNY if alex looks TOO GOOD on the podium! it would be UNFAIR! alex is squirming and trying to remember where tf he was planning on going with this zoomed-in great-gatsby-esque picture of george’s eyelids on his screen right now. george silently edits alex’s teeth out of his mouth and tries to erase the fact that he just called alex handsome like 47 times.

MARIO KART SIM RACING

im talking full immersion. sherbet land is ice fucking cold. every time they drive over some kind of giant clock or railroad or something the sim porpoises like a jackhammer. someone is standing behind them with a full tank of water for the splash sections. there’s a legitimate epilepsy warning at the start of the video. bowser puts the fear of god into lando norris.

MAX AND DANIEL DO TEMPORARY TATTOOS

i’m hesitant to allow them access to a bowl of water but i have an extremely clear vision of daniel slapping tats all over the blank spaces on his skin to the point where they overlap and he’s just got shiny plasticky tattoo skin everywhere. max would find this unappealing and also stupid until he realizes all the fake tattoos on his side of the table are replicas of daniel’s actual ones. cut to: daniel with a snake tattoo stuck in his eyebrow hairs hiking his shorts up so max can mirror the placement on his own inner thigh. daniel resembling a concussed post malone, watching max’s careful application of the ‘3’ tattoo. max does a horrible aussie accent and daniel looks like a chimpanzee seeing its own reflection for the first time. cinema.

[i-did]

bullet fic where Andrew works at one of those reptile birthday party companies, and Neil is hiding from the kids at Dan and Matt's kids 6th Birthday

Andrew first got into reptiles because a foster dad was really into them, his whole garage filled with vivariums of different animals, mostly reptiles but some were tarantulas and other bugs

Andrew thought it was interesting watching feeding time, and he liked that the animals were set in a designated space where the animal wouldn’t touch him unless he approached the space first

He learned how to fiddle with and maintain the spaces, which can become very self sustaining and many only need to be fed once every few weeks or once a week

After meeting Aaron, Andrew’s first job is at an adoption center, handling all the “scary” pets that aren't cuddly or cute, because of his experience and isn't afraid of them

Andrew ends up working for one of those lizard birthday party companies – unfortunately named Kreepie Krawlies – as an animal handler who both takes care of them and drives the van to events occasionally

Renee, his coworker, handles the kids, doing educational talks and passing off some of the creatures for kids to hold

Andrews maximum involvement around the kids typically being setting up the tanks as well as holding things the kids aren't allowed to touch, but depending on the party size he hangs out back by the neon green and yellow van with the company logo, blending in with his khaki and green uniform

He meets Neil in his mid 30s, at a really expensive birthday party for some professional athletes kid, child of Matthew Boyd and Danielle Wilds

Andrew is waiting out by the Van, waiting for when Renee will need him and call him on his walkie talkie, smoking his cigarette, listening to kids shriek, and play, one giving a startled cry and beginning to sob

When an adult from the party wanders over, like he's hiding from the kids

Hes burned heavily on his arms, half his face and neck melted, one ear a waxy nub, Andrew wouldn't be surprised if they continued down, 

The non burned side has cuts like shards of glass scarring his other cheek, he was hot, Andrew decided, and wondered if he was vain before whatever had happened to him

He reaches out, asking “Can I bum one?”

Andrew quirks his brow, thinking this could very well be a deadbeat dad hiding from his own kid, as Andrew gives one over

The guy, answering a question Andrew didn't ask, says, “Dan doesn't mind if I smoke as long as they don't see it” 

Andrew resists responding with, ‘didn’t ask’, and instead says, “Husband?”

“Ah, no. Friend’s wife – well – she's my friend too, I just met him first.” 

Ah, Dan short for Danielle, Andrew thinks, then states: “Hiding.” 

Neil confirms, nodding his head, “Their kid is used to me but uh, not the others, kinda scared of some of the others.” and gestures vaguely with the hand holding the cigarette. 

“Hm” Andrew says, watching the other man's fingers, burned and some shorter than they should be, a mixed set, fiddle with Andrew's lighter, flicking the spark for the flame, completely unafraid of burning his hands any further. 

“You?” the man asks

“I don’t hide.” Andrew responds, and it's the truth, he isn't hiding, he's waiting, and smoking away from helicopter parents eyes. 

He looks at Andrew for a second, before nodding and accepting it for the answer it was, and reaches his hand out to pass back the lighter

Andrew waits until his hand drops, “Don't burn yourself, not much skin left for anymore grafts”

He laughs, and pockets the lighter, he's about to say something, a smile on his lips when a voice calls out, “NEIL?” and his head whips around, looking for who called him over.

He, Neil, turns back around, and does one last inhale, before he carefully stubs out the cigarette

“Thanks uh..”

“Andrew.”

“Thanks, Andrew.” and he walks away

[achillesisnotcomingdown]

Ive lose the ask asking for my transmasc!Leo headcanon TT but i have them written down so imma post em like that

Leo transmasc headcanon

(many things are based on my own experience. Especially the dysphoria related things (so when i talk about Leo not being a real boy it is what he thinks bc of dysphoria. It’s not true.))

(warning angst angst (but thats Leo so that was expected)

it was so obvious even when he was small. He always wanted to play with boys, wear boys clothes, ect… His mom was fine with it. She bought him boys toys and clothes and even sometimes called him hijo. She was a bit confused, but she knew it made her child happy and it's all that mattered. 

However, it didn’t go that well with his foster homes. However much he tried, they always stuck to his deadname and she/her. That was a big part of the reason he kept running away. 

There really is no story behind the name Leo. He picked that one bc it sounded cool. 

Once he got a good enough passing, he did everything he could so ppl will assume he’s cis.

Don’t ask me how he gots his hands on hrt. It’s a long and weird story.

The wilderness school was very strict about not mixing girls and boys in dorms. 

Piper was his roommate, that’s how they met. 

In their memories created by Hera, Jason has kinda always known he’s trans. So Leo never bothered to hide it from Jason (as he does with others).

But Jason doesn’t have much (any) education on transidentity… At first he assumed Leo was a cis guy, and then some things were a bit confusing (why was he in fem dorms ? Why does he wear a tank top under his shirt ? Did he just ask Piper for a tampon???) but he just kinda gave up on trying to understand, bc Leo is a nice guy anyways. And with time (and exterior knowledge on the matter) he started to put the pieces together and to understand that “ooh ok that makes sense". 

Otherwise. Leo has no desire to get out of his comfortable closet. 

He has such a fragile masculinity 

Sometimes he acts a little bit macho. He’s aware he’s acting like an asshole but he’s terrified of being perceived as feminine. 

Why does he try to flirt with every girl he sees ? Another attempt to pass better (and comfort himself in his fragile masculinity) by copying stereotypical boys' things.

He overbind so much, GODS. Man will wear his binder for 11h straight (while fighting and running around) and then have the audacity to complain that his body hurts.

Piper tries very hard to remind him to take proper breaks. 

Jason is the biggest gender envy ever. He is handsome, tall, muscular… Leo really loves him but he also is so jealous and envious. 

He is very envious of other boys in general. 

When Percy got woken up in the middle of the night and left his cabin shirtless. When Frank went to take a break in the men’s restroom…

Gods, he would do anything to just be a normal boy. To be like them. To have their bodies. To not have to destroy his body to look slightly more masculine. To not have this constant fear that they’re gonna find out. 

And to add to the reasons why he felt so much like the 7th wheel : Among the 7 there are 3 girls, 3 boys… And Leo. Forever inbetween. Not a girl, but not a boy like the others either. 

Fortunately, with time he learnt to accept himself better and to feel more comfortable with others. 

Piper helped him to go easier on himself. And he had an actual proper talk with Jason.

The first person he actually came out to was probably Annabeth, bc she’s cool and wise and nice. 

And then he saw it actually was ok. She didn’t treat him any differently, she didn’t tell anyone else. She was cool with it.

He then told Frank and Hazel, with Piper’s help (mostly to explain to Hazel all those new terms). And it also went very great ! He then also told Percy and Nico. 

He’s not entirely out, just to his closest friends and his siblings at camp. And it’s enough. 

He still overbinds, but he has ppl to (discreetly) remind him to take care of himself. He’s still very dysphoric but his loved ones know how to remind him that he is their brother, an amazing boy.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Right Wing Watch:

Pam Bondi, President-elect Donald Trump’s second pick for U.S. Attorney General, has ties to New Apostolic Reformation dominionists who worked hard to put Trump back in office and believe his election will bring about a spiritual “great awakening” that will help like-minded right-wing Christians take control of the “seven mountains” of influence in America—government, business, education, media, arts and entertainment, religion, and family. 

After Bondi left office as Florida’s Attorney General, she joined the America First Policy Institute, a think tank created by former staffers that, like the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025, has been laying the groundwork for a “revolutionary” plan to “seize control” and dismantle the “administrative state” -- federal agencies charged with protecting American workers, consumers, and communities from corporate wrongdoing. This year, AFPI partnered with dominionist Lance Wallnau’s Courage Tour, which mixed religious revival with Christian nationalist politics and pro-Trump political organizing. Wallnau celebrated the announcement of Bondi’s nomination as a “great pick,” noting, “She’s part of the America First Policy Institute, a great group I had the privilege of working with in the last year.”  Reflecting the MAGA movement’s increasingly aggressive Christian nationalist orientation, AFPI claims scriptural foundations for every aspect of its right-wing policy agenda, which it has called “10 Pillars for Restoring a Nation Under God.” 

Former Florida AG Pam Bondi, who Donald Trump tapped to replace Matt Gaetz for the DOJ head job, has ties to Seven Mountains Dominionists and Christian Nationalists.

[its-de]

About Rafayel ❤️

Mainly things i gathered from the mini conversation we got from the miracle voyage event mixed with my thoughts 🫶🏻

*we* is used to refer to us the readers/players, hope you don't find that weird 😗

The word "home" is a person to him, He believes that we are his home

We are his most important thing, will take us along with his painting tools and canvases

He pays attention to what we like when we go out and keeps them in mind

Will buy us those things just because we liked them, *also let's not forget the knowledge he has and how smart he is in general, like knowing about the flower here and the different languages he speaks that was mentioned in one of his memories, my boi is so smart and well educated 💕*

He enjoys listening to our silly thoughts and memories, *Will add his artistic vision to the topics and might get inspired by that*

Would never get mad at us, even if we happened to ruin one of his paintings by mistake, aka the most important thing to him. *i think he will call it a happy accident*

He will sign our names on it *our special art collab 🫶🏻*

*i just know that he would be the greenest flag when it comes to him teaching / doing art with us, i think that he would be so open-minded and extremely supportive to the point of even if we paint/draw nothing but one chicken scratched line or a blob of paint, he will appreciate and treasure it, will also use his creative artistic vision to explain how that one line/blob of color "is not only just a one line/blob of color it's way more than that, it's unique because it was created by you"*

He got a little red fish called reddie, he's so caring of it, got a starfish to keep the little fish company *he also makes sure that the fish tank feels like home to them*

We are his comfort person, He feels better when we are around him. Our morning texts makes him feel happier

That's all, thank you for coming to my ted talk and feel free to add your own thoughts 🫂💕, now i gotta go and bawl my eyes a little because this man is so perfect 😭❤️

[crystaltcs]

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[vxn3lla]

More success stories

I may have written some of these already

honestly all I did was decide accept and persist some of these were instant

Books and not having to pay for them (found gift cards right before I was about to use my own money)

Good friends

Being talented at my hobbies

Foods i want or getting to cook things I want

Losing weight with out exercise or diet (I barely eat anyways so I eat whatever I want and as much as I can without stomach pains so far I lost around 11 pounds/ 4.99 kilograms

Fixing bangs (wanted curtain bangs, got thick chunky bangs instead nearly instantly i manifested them thinner and that they look good on me)

no more social media/ electronic addiction (only use Pinterest, Spotify, YouTube, notion, and tumblr and my screentime is 3hrs or less average)

Getting back into reading

My fish living a long time and being easy to care for (her tank is crystal clear and clean and I only cleaned it once had her for around a year now sometimes I wake up late so she doesn’t eat but shes still very energetic vibrant and cute she swims around in little circles alot and even though she sometimes misses her meal shes kinda chubby, but not too much that its a concern to her health)

My phone and laptop never breaking (i don’t like using a phone case, and while I don’t drop them a lot accidents involving other people happen and I have dropped them a few times before

My parents planning to move to another country after my brother graduates

Opportunities to learn more about computer science

Having a more hourglass figure (before it was a mix of two and was slightly more hourglass, figured it would be easier to dress based on body type if I actually had one so I just picked the one I was already more similar too)

Money

Getting to get out of the house when I’m bored to go eat or do things

seeing “angel numbers” (not really educated on what these are or anything but I see 5+ a day)

back when i was 9 i manifested getting perfect grades to get a dog (didn’t know i was manifesting but i was constantly affirming that i would get perfect grades and a dog and was even looking at dogs. He’s 10 years old now)

a “sign” if i am unconsciously manifesting an sp (pic of _ showed then blank loading screen but an emoji correlated with _ showed) (gotta manifest i wont be a housewife who had to give up her dreams lol)

Laptop battery going up from 3 to 10 percent for last few minutes before bed (1 am charger was in another room)

[feckcops]

What does it mean to erase a people – a nation, culture, identity? In Gaza, we are beginning to find out

“Earlier this month, Gaza’s oldest mosque was destroyed by Israeli airstrikes. The Omari mosque was originally a fifth century Byzantine church, and was an iconic landmark of Gaza: 44,000 sq ft of history, architecture and cultural heritage. But it was also a live site of contemporary practice and worship. A 45-year-old Gazan told Reuters that he had been ‘praying there and playing around it all through my childhood‘. Israel, he said, is ‘trying to wipe out our memories’.

“St Porphyrius church, the oldest in Gaza, also dating back to the fifth century and believed to be the third oldest church in the world, was damaged in another strike in October. It was sheltering displaced people, among them members of the oldest Christian community in the world, one that dates back to the first century. So far, more than 100 heritage sites in Gaza have been damaged or levelled. Among them are a 2,000-year-old Roman cemetery and the Rafah Museum, which was dedicated to the region’s long and mixed religious and architectural heritage.

“As the past is being uprooted, the future is also being curtailed. The Islamic University of Gaza, the first higher education institution established in the Gaza Strip in 1978, and which trains, among others, Gaza’s doctors and engineers, has been destroyed, along with more than 200 schools. Sufian Tayeh, the rector of the university, was killed along with his family in an airstrike. He was the Unesco chair of physical, astrophysical and space sciences in Palestine. Other high-profile academics who have been killed include the microbiologist Dr Muhammad Eid Shabir, and the prominent poet and writer Dr Refaat Alareer, whose poem, If I must die, was widely shared after his death ...

“As the ability to tell these stories publicly comes under attack, so do the private rituals of mourning and memorialisation. According to a New York Times investigation, Israel ground forces are bulldozing cemeteries in their advance on the Gaza Strip, destroying at least six. Ahmed Masoud, a British Palestinian writer from Gaza, posted a picture of him visiting his father’s grave, alongside a video of its ruins. ‘This is the graveyard in Jabalia camp,’ he wrote, where his father was buried. ‘I went to visit him in May. The Israeli tanks have now destroyed it, and my dad’s grave has gone. I won’t be able to visit or talk to him again.’

“A memory gap is forming. Libraries and museums are being levelled, and what is lost in the documents that have burned joins a larger toll of record-keeping. Meanwhile, the scale of the killings is so large that entire extended families are disappearing. The result is like tearing pages out of a book. Dina Matar, a professor at Soas University of London, told the Financial Times that ‘such loss results in the erasure of shared memories and identities for those who survive. Remembering matters. These are important elements when you want to put together histories and stories of ordinary lives’ ...

“This is what it would look like, to erase a people. In short, to void the architecture of belonging that we all take so much for granted so that, no matter how many Gazans survive, there is, over time, less and less to bind them together into a valid whole. This is what it would look like, when you deprive them of telling their story, of producing their art, of sharing in music, song and poetry, and of a foundational history that lives in their landmarks, mosques, churches, and even in their graves.”

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 31

MASTAPOST

big thanks to brekitten for betaing this chapter, and HAPPY MERMAY TO EVERYONE YAYAYYAYAYA

Here’s a fun fact, Danny noted, as he sat in the driver’s seat of the GiW truck they’d stolen GTA style from the government. Despite having a father whose driving may be more dangerous than the sirens that he hunts, and parents who built a tank that can float…

Danny did not know how to drive.

But luckily, Damian did! Thank goodness. Guess that rich kid education was paying off.

The issue, though? Damian didn’t have legs at this moment.

Which meant that Danny was the one stepping on the gas, while Damian took the wheel, sitting in Danny’s lap.

Here’s a fun fact. Whenever Danny’s dad drove, he always used to think that it was the scariest thing in the world. The G-forces turning you into a ragdoll. The screaming and car horns from other people. The uncertainty of whether you’ll make it to see the next day.

On this clear summer day, Danny learned that there was something far, far scarier.

To have all of that happen, and you were the one at the driver’s seat.

“Step on it!” Damian shouted. Danny could only comply. Stray shots blasted past the windows, but the armored vehicle stood firm. Another blockade was up ahead, a blockade that was very quickly becoming vacant as agents scattered to the side.

Damian cackled maniacally. His howling trills filled the air and mixed with the screams of the agents.

“Should I slow down?”

“Negative!” Damian yelled. Danny was seriously regretting following this plan. Why couldn’t they have just walked and snuck around the barriers?!

The blockade smashed into pieces. The truck rammed through the gates signs like they were wet tissue paper. Well that went slightly better than they’d expected. But there was still the issue of the very large tail of vehicles pursuing them.

Danny looked back and forth nervously. “Please tell me you have a plan for those guys.”

“Shoot them.”

“What?!”

“With your ice. Give them a frozen tire or two.”

Danny gulped. He was used to a little fighting, but this was getting ridiculous!

Then again, it was the GiW. Yeah, go on then. Danny poked his head out the window. Damian had torn up part of his shirt (rude!) and forced Danny to wear it like a mask. He’d also put some mucus in his hear to make it white. It was a challenge to twist his body to keep pressure on the gas pedal while also looking behind him, but some siren flexibility helped.

There. A GiW car lead the chase behind him. One of the agents glared at him with all the hatred she could muster (so the same amount that he usually received from glares), and fired a beam that missed him by about 40 degrees. Yeah. Good luck with that aim. Danny returned by icing over the road. His powers created a right-facing ramp right in front of the car. The car could not brake in time and flung itself to the side. Then an armored SUV took its place in the front.

Danny grinned mercilessly. Maybe Damian had a point.

He narrowed his glowing eyes. His target was small, but its relative position was pretty constant. Just a little to the left… and that was just perfect. Danny flung an ice beam. It hit its mark perfectly. The tire of the SUV leading the chase froze completely. The vehicle skidded out of control. Then the truck right behind it failed to brake in time. Like dominos the entourage crashed into each other like a perfectly programmed sequence. The sound of car alarms and clanging metal filled the air like music as the boys sped away in their getaway vehicle.

That was not the end of it, however. Danny spotted more and more vehicles assembling from the side roads. Danny flung ice like a kid in a snowball fight, but he’d burnt most of the energy from the tamales earlier. He needed more food.

“Save your strength,” Damian called out. “We are almost at our destination.”

Before long, the countryside roads gave way to tall buildings and crowds of tourists. With the vehicles hot on their tails, Damian yelled at him to slam the brakes. At the same time, the kid swung the steering wheel hard left. The truck drifted on its side for a few heart-stopping seconds before coming to a halt.

Danny kicked the doors open. He and Damian were out in seconds, invisibly slipping into the gathering crowd of onlookers. He bumped a shoulder or two, and more than one person waved their hands over their noses, making a disgusted comment in another language, but the crowd meant more than one kind of invisibility.

The agents filed out of their vehicles in quick succession, looking to muscle through the civilians. However, a matching crowd of police officers met them, engaging in heated argument. Danny had the distinct feeling Damian absolutely intended this.

They walked through the streets of the town. Further away from the truck, the crowd became sparser, but it was still very busy. American brands lined the storefronts, and local street food venders populated the sidewalks. From the corner of his eye, Danny spied a prime opportunity.

He casually sidestepped the sleeping security guard on his way to a suitcase and backpack store. Damian side eyed him, or at least he felt he did. “Relax Damian, this will make things much easier on us.”

Did he feel bad about stuffing Damian into a waterproof backpack? Maybe. But look, keeping invisibility on for hours at a time was hard! He needed a little respite. Besides, the GiW were probably looking for a white-haired scaly menace, for all that he was careful never to show his fully human form to them.

And Damian wasn’t even gonna overheat and die of heat stroke! He’d been very careful to ice over the lining of the backpack to keep the kid cool. Now if only he’d stop complaining.

“I would like to put it on the record that this is an awful idea.” Damian punctuated his fifth complaint with a sharp jab into Danny’s soft human spine. Ouch.

“Dude, I am literally undetectable right now. What more do you want?”

“You look like a vagrant with a very, very clearly stolen back pack.”

Maybe Damian had a point. People were staring, and covering their noses. Perhaps he had miscalculated. Danny ducked into an alleyway and camouflaged himself again, even if it made his stomach churn. “Look, their scanners are pretty close ranged, but I’m using my powers, it’s way easier for them to detect us.”

“Tut. Very well, but you still need a better disguise. Move quickly. I can smell them filing into town even from here,” His passenger chittered. And move quickly he did. Danny ducked into a clothes store and yanked the first articles he could see. He was half-tempted to reject the clean clothes to spite Damian, but spiting the GiW by not dying seemed much more attractive of an option. Then he borrowed some food from a convenience store.

It was necessary for his survival, even if it made him ill.

With his slightly less homeless-looking clothes, Danny was finally able to show his face without looking like a street rat. Well honestly he still looked like a street rat. The kind of things salt water and four days of not showering will do to your hair. But he at least looked like a decently-dressed street rat.

The agents had already swarmed the town. Thank goodness the sun had dried his hair again, or he’d be clocked in a blink. They patrolled around the streets in pairs and harassed innocent bystanders about the siren menace, all the while an official-looking police guy yelled at an official-looking GiW guy.

“We are close to the shore. Keep calm.” Damian whispered.

Just keep calm as the people who want to dissect you look you right in the eye. Thank you Damian for the encouragement. Danny forcibly slackened his shoulders, and slouched his back. Just a normal teenager. Nothing to see here.

The edge of the town was just ahead, maybe a hundred meters. Just needed to avoid suspicion for a few minutes more.

Danny walked through the human-shaped landmine, suddenly distinctly aware he had no shoes on. Only three meters away, an agent scanned over a young man, then attempted to pat him down, only for the man to shout at him and pull away. Then two more agents showed up and held his arms down. Danny shuddered, but he forced himself to continue. Danny hid himself between two adults walking past. He held his head low. It was just like high school, avoiding Dash, he told himself. Just like high school.

He was inches away from leaving the outer bounds of the area when an agent called out right to him. “Hey you!”

What does he do. What does he do, what does he do what does he do?! Sweat pooled on his neck. Just play natural. Yeah. Put all the hours of Spanish lessons to good use!

Danny turned around, and with his most casual smile possible, said.

“¿Yo no hablo ingles?”

Even he cringed at how bad that sounded. Adrenaline pooled in his still legs. The agent rattled off some excuse the government was peddling, and then pulled out a scanner. Danny’s eyes widened. If he stayed, Damian would get detected. If he ran, he’d be outed as a sympathizer at the best. If he fought, then the whole world would know Danny Fenton was a freak of nature.

Danny’s brain moved a mile a minute, but his muscles locked in place. What could he do. What could he do.

His eyes locked on a pair of Panamanian policemen behind him, with grim looks on their face. He scrambled together the last vestiges of the Spanish class he’d barely been passing.

Danny sucked in a breath, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“¡AYUDAME!” He shouted. Danny crossed his arms over his groin, and put on a pained expression. “¡LOS GRINGOS ME TOCARON!”

The agent blinked in puzzlement, like a deer in the headlights. His dumbfounded expression contrasted with the thunderous look that came over the Panamanians. Thank you Jazz for forcing him to actually study. Maybe foreign language classes weren’t all that bad.

Danny took the distraction and speed walked away from the premises, as verbal fireworks and fists flew.

The beach was in sight. Just a couple more minutes, and the GiW would never be able to catch them. Danny sprinted for the water. This close, the urban roads transitioned back to foliage and dirt again. He ducked underneath low branches, and jumped over fallen debris.

Then the air buzzed. The familiar scent of ozone permeated the space. Skulker.

His nose picked up the rocket. Danny lunged to the ground. A tree exploded into dozens of splinters behind. The shockwave threw him further away and slammed him into a rock. His vision shifted nauseously.  

“Put your mask on and run!” Damian shouted, having emerged from the backpack. Danny didn’t need to be told twice. He slicked his hair and booked it. Without his lateral line above water, Danny was forced to rely on Damian spotting for him. Skulker’s missiles exploded in mid-air as his friend took to intercepting them with his shots. More came through, forcing Danny to duck and weave through the storm.

“Where is he?!” Damian shouted. “I cannot get a visual on him.”

“He keeps flying into different spots to shoot at us. We need to get to an open field.”

Then came the machine blasters. The shots tore through leaves like they weren’t even there. Danny threw up an icy shield that deflected the shots away. Heavier blasts pelted the shield and forced him to reinforce it even more, straining his body.

Skulker’s voice cried out somewhere to his flank. “Over there!” Damian cried out. Danny threw an ice spear in the blink of any eye. It flew through the dense tree top. Seconds later, metal tore open in a screech. A smoking Gatling gun fell to the dirt.

Danny sprinted through the remaining thicket, and burst on to the beach. “Quickly, Danny!” Damian shouted. Stray gunshots blasted sand high into the air. Danny jumped behind an upturned wooden boat, ducked and rolled. The boat exploded into splinters, but otherwise shielded him from the blast. Danny tramped over seaweed and sandcastles alike, a mad dash for the water where he’d be in his element.

A net collided into his body from the side. The boys were thrown to the sand. The force sent Danny’s mask flying off his eyes, right as he spotted two familiar figures just off the beach.

His blood turned to ice. “Damian. Hide in the backpack.”

“What are you talking about-” Damian sucked in a breath.

“Get in now!”

In the water, standing on a jet ski, his mother lowered her binoculars, and suddenly she was racing towards the shore line at breakneck pace. Skulker laughed in the air. Danny threw off the net, dashing back into the jungle. He couldn’t get caught. Not now. His vision flashed with bright lights and glowing gun barrels.

“Don’t think you can simply run away from the mighty Skulker, whelp!” Skulker charged up another salvo. Just then, a blue shot tore through his arm cannon.

“Do not touch my baby!” His mother roared. She front-flipped off the jet ski and landed soundlessly on the sand. She charged for Danny, arms outstretched. “Danny!”

His foot landed on a patch of sand that didn’t sink slightly inwards like he’d thought it would. Danny’s blood turned to ice.

Sand erupted in a plume of yellow and white. His ears rang like high-pitched white noise. Danny barely registered the backpack being torn off his arms, Damian’s screeching becoming further, and further. The last he saw of Damian was in the clutches of Skulker, who shot him a metallic smirk as the man retreated into the sky. He smelled his mother and Bruce Wayne running up the beach. He nearly passed out turning invisible, aided by Skulker’s sand smokescreen. It was all he could concentrate on.

Danny stumbled behind his mother and Bruce’s backs, even as she yelled “Danny! Danny! Baby boy, where are you?!” into the empty beach. He stripped wordlessly in the water, turning skin to scales. But it was the lack of that familiar weight over his shoulder that made him feel more naked than anything else.

[girlactionfigure]

An Excess of Democracy

The State of Israel is more endangered today than at any time since 1948, including 1973. She is tied down in Gaza while her enemies wait their turn in Lebanon, Syria, the PA, Yemen, Iraq, and Iran – which may already have nuclear weapons. An unprecedented campaign of antisemitic incitement is destroying popular support for her throughout the world, and government after government is punishing her by recognizing the “State of Palestine” on her territory. The more genocidal her enemies, the more she is falsely accused of genocide. Her decision to position herself as a satellite of the US has borne bitter fruit, as that country’s policies are increasingly decided by elements that want to see Israel disappear; at the same time, the enemies of the US treat her as an outpost of US power that must be eliminated.

Israel’s political, intelligence, and military elites have shown themselves incompetent. They failed to foresee, prevent, or even effectively react to the invasion of 7 October. They have turned the military successes of the war into what appears to be a surrender to all of Hamas’ demands.

Over the years they have projected an image of Israel as a punching bag rather than the proud and powerful nation that she is. Despite our nuclear-armed military, they have allowed Iran to encircle us with terrorist proxies and even to establish a deterrent force in Lebanon that we fear to challenge. They have allowed Iran itself to obtain nuclear weapons.

On 13 April 2024, Iran launched an attack against Israel that included hundreds of drones, cruise missiles, and ballistic missiles, the largest such attack in military history. All but a few were intercepted by Israel with some help from the US and others; the cost of this defensive operation to Israel was estimated at more than $1 billion. Had the attack succeeded, there would have been great damage to military and infrastructure targets, as well as loss of life. Israel retaliated a few days later by destroying some radar installations in Iran. The weakness of Israel’s response was a result of US pressure and the deterrent effect of Iran’s Hezbollah proxy.

At home, our leaders have allowed the PA to systematically gobble up parts of Area C in Judea/Samaria that are supposed to be under full Israeli control by international treaty. They have allowed, and then legitimized, illegal Bedouin settlement in the Negev. They have allowed the flourishing of Arab crime syndicates in the Negev and Galilee, and in the Arab towns and mixed Arab-Jewish cities.

Tens of thousands of Israeli citizens have fled from their homes: in the south from fear of resurgent Hamas terrorism, and in the north from daily bombardment by Hezbollah with rockets and anti-tank weapons, which have laid waste to cities and towns in the area. As I write this, large fires started by Hezbollah rockets are burning in northern cities.

Our governments are ineffectual, paralyzed by arguments over issues like the judicial reform and the Haredi draft, beset by powerful lobbies and popular groups that are manipulated by political actors. The two largest minority populations, Israeli Arabs and Haredim, maintain autonomous “states” within our state, where the laws and informal understandings that govern the rest of the population don’t necessarily apply.

Many Israeli Arabs, with the notable exception of the Druze and a small number of Bedouins, do not accept the principle that Israel is a Jewish state, do not serve in the military, and in many cases avoid taxation and other responsibilities. Haredim refuse to serve in the military and maintain an educational system in which “secular” subjects like mathematics and modern Hebrew language are not taught.

Because of the war, reserve soldiers are now to serve 90 days a year, which is destructive to family life, jobs, and especially independent businesses. At the same time, tens of thousands of yeshiva students have been exempted from the draft. Attempts to change this have been met by demonstrations which block major roads, and threats by Haredi politicians to bring down the government. Israeli governments have been trying to find a successful compromise to enable the sharing of the security burden for decades without success.

***

What can be done? What must be done to preserve the Jewish state, prevent another Jewish dispersion, and restore Israel’s role as the protector of the Jewish communities of the diaspora? As always, there are short-term and long-term answers. Today our most critical concern must be the war in Gaza. As long as Hamas continues to be in control of the strip, we effectively lose a large chunk of our country that will remain uninhabitable, and the IDF will be tied down and unable to respond to other threats. Even more importantly, if Israel is defeated by the terror tactics of Hamas – and make no mistake, an agreement along the lines of the one announced last week by the US president will be understood by the entire world as a crushing defeat – our enemies on all fronts will bring us more 7 Octobers.

Hamas’ victory strategy depends on two major Israeli weaknesses: the public concern for the hostages (and the manipulation of that concern by political actors that oppose the government), and Israel’s susceptibility to American pressure.

The cruelty of Hamas and the situation of the hostages is tearing at the hearts of all Israelis. But barring a miracle, there is no solution that will bring them home at a price the nation can afford. We must say to their families: we cannot trade the Jewish state for your people. We must do everything that we can to save them, but we cannot surrender to our murderous enemy in order to do so. It’s delusional to think that we can accept a 6-week ceasefire (not to mention the other concessions demanded), given the pressure from America and the other fronts of the war, and then return to finish off Hamas. It will not happen.

The US administration has done and is continuing to do everything it can short of military intervention on the side of Hamas to prevent Israel from achieving a decisive victory. Israeli leaders must understand that we cannot win if we obey the directives from Washington. They must tell the Americans whatever they need to hear, but order the IDF to finish the job, to remove Hamas from power and destroy its military capability.

***

It is painful to write this, but I fear that our present government may be incapable of taking the actions required for the state to survive. Worse, the political structure of our state may be ill-adapted to survival in today’s Middle East.

I would sum up the problem by saying that Israel suffers from an excess of democracy. There are many things that are wonderful about a truly democratic state: in theory, it can behave justly toward individuals with diverse interests and needs. It is a way to align the policies of a country with the “general will” of the populace, in the words of Rousseau. Unfortunately there are some specific situations where democracy is sub-optimal.

One of them is a state of war. In wartime, decisions must be made that will favor victory but which will cause popular suffering, or suffering of influential groups. Such decisions often cannot be made democratically.1 An example is the question of whether Israel should accept a deal that will free some hostages, but also release many imprisoned terrorists and place restrictions on her conduct of the war.

Another problematic case is that of large permanent minorities who utilize democratic institutions like elections to pursue “identity politics” rather than issue-oriented ones. In Israel, in addition to the ethnic and religious divisions, we find entrenched ideological and personality-oriented subgroups. In 2019-21 they combined with our complicated electoral system to produce four parliamentary elections in a period of two years. The tension between the elected Knesset and the independent bureaucracy, which represents Israel’s former ruling elite, guarantees gridlock on important issues. In addition, the almost decade-long attempt to take down PM Netanyahu utilizing the judicial system, and supported by most of the media and the academic establishment, has been a distraction and strain on both sides.

Israel is both almost permanently at war, and blessed with large ethnic/religious minorities. Thus her aspiration to be a democratic state works against the possibility that she will have an effective government. And the challenges to being a tiny Jewish state in the Middle East absolutely require leadership that functions optimally.

Given the power relationships in our political society, it is unlikely that there is a smooth path – for example, a constitutional convention – to a new form of government. But the responsibility of the state to her citizens, and to the Jewish people as a whole, demands that she make this transition in any case, regardless of the disruption of normal life that it is likely to entail. ______________________________________

1But didn’t the democracies defeat the Nazis in WWII? Actually, both Roosevelt and Churchill acted as virtual dictators. And Stalin…

[rederiswrites]

So I use bottled oxygen for my bead making--my torch runs on oxygen and propane that mix to burn clean and hot. And my pressure gauge has been telling me this tank of oxygen is getting real low. Not a problem; I've got another full tank right next to the first. But running out of oxygen in the middle of a bead sucks. Basically if that happens, unless the bead is very close to done and you can finish it on the fumes, the bead's borked. So I decided to stick to undecorated single-color beads until the oxygen ran out. The idea was that then I'd switch tanks and get on with making decorated beads.

Yeah, well, I ran out of rods to make the beads on before I ran out of oxygen. I spent nearly 4 hours making dozens and dozens of beads. I'll have to count them; it might be a new personal record for number of beads made in one sitting.

So many beads.

The oxygen was juuuuust finally starting to fizzle out as I was filling the very last mandrel.

On an educational note, the overwhelming majority of glass beads throughout history have been plain, single colored beads. A tremendous number of those have been cobalt glass. Thus, when I make up jewelry that's supposed to be representative of something that might be worn by, say, a Danish woman in 850 CE, or an Angle Saxon woman in 900, or even a 4th century central European woman, it's mostly going to be plain beads.

But you don't go to the fancy glass bead maker to buy plain beads, for the most part. It's not exactly where the money is for me. The main reasons to buy plain beads from me that aren't made up into something are a) I have safe working conditions and a decent wage, unlike the artisans making many cheap glass beads, b) if I'm selling them, you can just trust that they're historically accurate to at least someplace, and c) you can buy just four of them. Try that at Michael's.