#task: sudan

[genderqueerdykes]

genuine piece of advice for punks, activists, and everyone else honestly: any form of leftist infighting is a waste of your time.

focus on the task at hand: improving living and quality of life conditions for your community. unionize. donate to food banks. cooperate with organizations like food not bombs to distribute free hot meals. volunteer at libraries. participate in homeless outreach. give people access to resources in your community. organize and participate in protests. create organizations, groups, and gathering spots for queer folk in your area who need safe places to go and find community.

help people find access to HRT, surgery and other gender affirming care. carry, hand out, and administer narcan (naloxone). help recovering people get to rehabilitation, methadone clinics and so on. help addicted people practice harm reduction and use safely. help give out menstrual kits to homeless and low income people who have periods. help people get into housing programs. help disabled people apply for disability (SSI and SSDI) and disability lawyers. help disabled people find work or income resources that are accessible to them. donate blood and/or plasma if you can. care for people with HIV and AIDS.

help people apply for food stamps, medicaid, bill and rent assistance. help disabled people find case managers and caregivers. call local lawmakers to voice your opinions on current events. advocate for disadvantaged queers in your area. establish and participate in mutual aid funds. spread awareness and advocate online. write about and share your experiences with disadvantages, abuse and other problems you've faced in life for who you are. gather and organize with people with shared experiences. start or volunteer at a community garden. deliver meals to the elderly. volunteer at a homeless shelter.

organize fundraisers for, spread awareness of, and donate to:

Palestine

Sudan

Congo

i don't care if someone's activism looks different from yours: there are a TON of ways to improve and make change in your and the global community. doing ONE of these is enough, finding a singular way to improve your community is a better use of your time than arguing. everyone can find ways to be good to each other.

rehashing the same talking points, reading between the lines, accusing someone of identifying with politics they've never advocated for, and making baseless accusations isn't helping. it's not fixing anything. mobilize. advocate. stand up for your community and its rights. take action. now. i mean it. we must.

help each other.

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #14

April 12-19 2024

The Department of Commerce announced a deal with Samsung to help bring advanced semiconductor manufacturing and research and development to Texas. The deal will bring 45 billion dollars of investment to Texas to help build a research center in Taylor Texas and expand Samsung's Austin, Texas, semiconductor facility. The Biden Administration estimates this will create 21,000 new jobs. Since 1990 America has fallen from making nearly 40% of the world's semiconductor to just over 10% in 2020.

The Department of Energy announced it granted New York State $158 million to help support people making their homes more energy efficient. This is the first payment out of a $8.8 billion dollar program with 11 other states having already applied. The program will rebate Americans for improvements on their homes to lower energy usage. Americans could get as much as $8,000 off for installing a heat pump, as well as for improvements in insulation, wiring, and electrical panel. The program is expected to help save Americans $1 billion in electoral costs, and help create 50,000 new jobs.

The Department of Education began the formal process to make President Biden's new Student Loan Debt relief plan a reality. The Department published the first set of draft rules for the program. The rules will face 30 days of public comment before a second draft can be released. The Administration hopes the process can be finished by the Fall to bring debt relief to 30 million Americans, and totally eliminate the debt of 4 million former students. The Administration has already wiped out the debt of 4.3 million borrowers so far.

The Department of Agriculture announced a $1 billion dollar collaboration with USAID to buy American grown foods combat global hunger. Most of the money will go to traditional shelf stable goods distributed by USAID, like wheat, rice, sorghum, lentils, chickpeas, dry peas, vegetable oil, cornmeal, navy beans, pinto beans and kidney beans, while $50 million will go to a pilot program to see if USAID can expand what it normally gives to new products. The food aid will help feed people in Bangladesh, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Chad, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Haiti, Kenya, Madagascar, Mali, Nigeria, Rwanda, South Sudan, Sudan, Tanzania, Uganda, and Yemen.

The Department of the Interior announced it's expanding four national wildlife refuges to protect 1.13 million wildlife habitat. The refuges are in New Mexico, North Carolina, and two in Texas. The Department also signed an order protecting parts of the Placitas area. The land is considered sacred by the Pueblos peoples of the area who have long lobbied for his protection. Security Deb Haaland the first Native American to serve as Interior Secretary and a Pueblo herself signed the order in her native New Mexico.

The Department of Labor announced new work place safety regulations about the safe amount of silica dust mine workers can be exposed to. The dust is known to cause scaring in the lungs often called black lung. It's estimated that the new regulations will save over 1,000 lives a year. The United Mine Workers have long fought for these changes and applauded the Biden Administration's actions.

The Biden Administration announced its progress in closing the racial wealth gap in America. Under President Biden the level of Black Unemployment is the lowest its ever been since it started being tracked in the 1970s, and the gap between white and black unemployment is the smallest its ever been as well. Black wealth is up 60% over where it was in 2019. The share of black owned businesses doubled between 2019 and 2022. New black businesses are being created at the fastest rate in 30 years. The Administration in 2021 Interagency Task Force to combat unfair house appraisals. Black homeowners regularly have their homes undervalued compared to whites who own comparable property. Since the Taskforce started the likelihood of such a gap has dropped by 40% and even disappeared in some states. 2023 represented a record breaking $76.2 billion in federal contracts going to small business owned by members of minority communities. This was 12% of federal contracts and the President aims to make it 15% for 2025.

The EPA announced (just now as I write this) that it plans to add PFAS, known as forever chemicals, to the Superfund law. This would require manufacturers to pay to clean up two PFAS, perfluorooctanoic acid and perfluorooctanesulfonic acid. This move to force manufacturers to cover the costs of PFAS clean up comes after last week's new rule on drinking water which will remove PFAS from the nation's drinking water.

Bonus:

President Biden met a Senior named Bob in Pennsylvania who is personally benefiting from The President's capping the price of insulin for Seniors at $35, and Biden let Bob know about a cap on prosecution drug payments for seniors that will cut Bob's drug bills by more than half.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Triple D.

Perlude

“We need assistance!”

Shouted the elite Navy SEAL into his earpiece. He was taking cover behind a low, nearly destroyed concrete wall to avoid the many bullets flying at him and his small task force. They’ve been in Aleppo, Syria for a little over two weeks and each day becomes increasingly violent. Senior Chief Petty Officer, John Stevens–Kelly, with his team of fellow SEALS are outnumbered by the Russian Military.

“Chief, this is base! We’re doing all we can to find you some backup! With the Marines and the Army being dispatched throughout Sudan and Iraq, we’re spread a bit thin! We will do our best to send assistance!”

Lieutenant Commander Karen Greer, is trapped in an abandoned building across from them and without proper backup, John Stevens–Kelly can’t get to her to see if she’s alive. Dust and debris crowded his vision and one by one he watched in horror as his men fell to their knees and died. It was supposed to be an easy escape and rescue of a CIA operative who was taken hostage by a suspected pro-Assad paramilitary group. It turned out to be the Russian Military.

“Damnit,” John fired rounds from his AK47 that was nearly out of bullets, “Guys, we’re on our own! Watch your six and try to keep out of the fire!”

A few SEALS tossed grenades to buy them some time as they moved toward the abandoned building. Structures were exploding and coming down on them and hostiles were coming in fast. If the base doesn’t send anyone, they are all dead. The mission was a disaster from the beginning. All they had to do was collect the hostage, get some intel, and get the hell out. A few days stretched into two weeks.

“Chief?! We’ve got you covered! They’re dropping in now!”

John hid himself behind a brick wall and spoke into his earpiece.

“Who’s dropping in?!” John replied firmly.

Dirt swirled like a small tornado when two helicopters swooped down and soldiers wearing all black slid down from a rope with guns blazing and ninja–like abilities. The Russians didn’t stand a chance. One-by-one they were taken out by the unknown soldiers. There was one soldier that stood out above the others and moved as if he were bulletproof.

John took that opportunity to run as fast as he could to the abandoned building to find Lieutenant Commander Karen Greer. He ditched the AK47 for a pistol and when he finally crossed over into the building, Russian troops jumped out of their hiding place and John took them out immediately. He could see the soldiers dressed in black enter and spread out in search. One soldier, however, took his place in front of John. He removed his all black balaclava and helmet, revealing himself to John.

“Killmonger.” John says, a slow laugh echoing from his mouth, “Nigga, where have you been?! You show up now?!”

Erik Stevens, a former United States Navy SEAL who was eventually assigned to a Ghost Unit for the Military, stood before his twin brother after two months of no contact.

“You know we work off the grid, bro. Deeper shit than rescuing some crooked ass CIA officials. Glad to see you’re still breathing.”

“Glad to see you’re not dead in a fuckin’ ditch somewhere, E. What the hell have you been up to?”

“The less you know, the better,” Erik handed John a gun, “Let’s make this shit speedy before more Spetsnaz show up.”

The twins together were the strongest. John missed the days when he worked alongside his brother, but Erik grew tired of the straight arrow. He wanted to get his hands dirty in ways John couldn’t agree with. Erik becoming a mercenary formed a wedge between them for a while, especially because John didn’t enjoy killing for sport like his twin. Erik was ruthless and cynical, whereas John only showed that side of him in the line of duty. There were plenty of times where John and Erik bumped heads.

The brothers made their way deeper into the abandoned building and finally discovered Lieutenant Commander Karen Greer and the CIA Operative hiding in a small room. The CIA Operative had a gunshot wound to his left thigh. Relief washed over Karen Greer’s face when she spotted John. She leaped up into his arms and hugged him tightly.

“Aight, save the reunion for later! We gotta go!” Erik shouted aggressively.

Erik carefully pulled the CIA Operative up and they quickly made their way towards the helicopter. Karen Greer bit her tongue while following them out of the room. She couldn’t stand Erik, and it was partly due to the fact that he was the reason things never worked out between John and her. She disliked the fact that John defended his hot-headed brother, even when he was wrong. She’d craved John’s love but deep down she knew it would never be the same.

Back outside, they succeeded with making it out alive and the helicopter took off. Karen Greer attended to The CIA Operative’s wound by creating a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. John made eye contact with his brother and he reached his hand out to clasp Erik’s firmly. Karen Greer watched the interaction with a neutral expression. It was silent the entire ride to base. Killmonger and his team remained on the helicopter while the few remaining SEALS, Karen Greer, and John Stevens–Kelly helped the CIA Operative to base.

__________

One Week Later:

Lagos, Nigeria was where John went to meet with his twin brother. It’s been a week since they’d seen each other and it would be good to catch up. John made his way into a striking waterfront home within a gated community wearing a v-neck, long-sleeve, khaki tunic with matching pants. He removed his shades and began pacing the grand entryway with curiosity.

John took a chance and stepped forward, eyes moving from left to right. Before him was a double, rounded staircase and to his left was a large study and to his right was a family room. John entered the family room and placed his duffel bag on the floor next to an end table with a large African head statue crafted from a tree trunk.

“Pay him handsomely. He deserves it…”

John spotted a portly, Nigerian man with a big grin wearing a traditional Nigerian caftan in all white with colorful embroidery and matching white pants. Killmonger stood before him at a towering height of 6’4 wearing a fitted black T-shirt with dark camouflage pants and black boots. He shook the man’s hand firmly with a slight smirk before turning his dark gaze onto a butler that held out a recondite sepia leather duffle bag for him to take.

“We will do business again, Killmonger. In the meantime, Make you enjoy your stay in Lagos…”

John watched the man and his servant leave the magnificent home. Killmonger’s heavy hand clasped John’s shoulder and he turned towards his identical twin abruptly.

“Didn't think you’d actually show up, bruh. Good to see you J.”

They hugged each other tightly before letting go.

“Whose house are we in?” John questioned.

“Don’t worry about all that. Just know it’s ours for a few days. You hungry? Want something to eat? Drink?”

John didn’t automatically respond to Erik. He was being hyper vigilant. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of that enormous estate.

“My bag—”

“John. Relax. It’s just me and you here. No more unorganized missions and Karen’s mess. You get to put all that shit behind you and unwind. When was the last time you had that, bro? And please don’t tell me that old story about us drag racing on the Los Angeles River. That shit happened when we were eighteen.”

Erik thrust a glass filled with amber liquid into John’s hand. John was the definition of the ‘perfect soldier’. Loyal, noble, and dependable on top of being a tactician and strategist. When he’s in the war zone, he’s ruthless. That part of his life has always been hard to relax from. Even when it comes down to relationships. He’d always been afraid to grow with a woman because of what he does for a living. Too many times he’s witnessed fellow SEALS slaughtered in their own homes.

Unbeknownst to his crazy brother, John would love to have a companion. Someone he could come to whenever he made it home safely. Whether it be a serious commitment or strictly physical. He could never have that with Karen no matter how hard he tried. He craved pillow talks, massages, the smell of a woman’s perfume. So many things. Erik was right, he needed to decompress. John drank the entire contents of the glass, realizing it to be whiskey.

“Fuck it. You’re right. What’s the move?”

Erik rubbed his hands together like the mastermind he is.

“Aight, figured we could get some food, meet up with some ladies, and hit the town. I know some good spots here in Lagos. Tomorrow we can take a yacht out and smoke some cigars. Just live it up, you know?”

John smirked, “Sounds all good to me. What ladies? Hopefully nobody you touched. We all know what happened back in college. Sydney…”

“Ahhhh…Sydney. She was…” Erik kissed his fingers, “Scrumptious. You ain’t have no problems with me hittin’ that!”

They walked out towards the back of the home and took a seat near the inground pool. Erik took a small sip from his glass before sitting it on the ground beside him to remove his boots. John lounged back and placed his shades over his eyes.

“So, now you’re silent?” Erik teased.

“I’m silent because you love to leave out certain details. I was falling DEEP for that girl. Her excuse was she couldn’t tell us apart.”

“Both of us had the same cut, J! Like I told you before, I didn’t know. Anyway, she’s married with a son or some shit… good for her.”

John chuckled, “It’s been too long for me. So long that I’ve become picky. I don’t want just any woman.”

Nigga,” Erik scuffs, “You serious? It’s been three months for me. I miss the sex. I miss giving and receiving. Shit…I got a job in a week and this job gotta be one of the worst and I mean my whole fuckin’ chest will be covered in scars by the time I come back home to the Bay—you think I’m fuckin’ lying? I need this. I wanna be pissy drunk in a bed full of women before I touch down in Vietnam.”

John took his shades off to look at Erik.

“You scarring again? Thought you said that shit was over?”

“I guess old habits don’t die hard,” Erik shrugged, “I enjoy it.

John squinted, “You enjoy having that reminder on your body? You’re fucking crazy…”

“Says the nigga that ain’t never giving this life up. You live for this shit too, J. Don’t act like me and you are any different. Just because I do shit dirty doesn't mean you ain’t getting a thrill out of it. See, ever since you became best buddies with Sam Wilson you've been acting brand new.”

“Your thrill and my thrill are not the same, E. And what’s wrong with Sam? He’s cool peoples. Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do. But…it’s a job for me. For you, it’s a game. You have this killer instinct. Example,” John sat up, “You remember what happened in Iraq? What you did to that family? Torturing? That shit was…that was brutal.”

“Yeah…I remember. I also remember very clearly that they were the enemy. I also remember losing friends to those enemies. When I get behind that heat,” Erik made a gesture with his fingers to mimic a gun, “I don’t care who I’m aiming at. If it’s meant for you, it’s meant for you.”

“…Wild,” John stood up and stretched, “I’m getting some more to drink…”

“Fill me up!” Erik held his glass out, “And bring the whole bottle. We gotta get ready in another hour to head out.”

“Damn, I just got here,” John shakes his head.

“The pussy don’t wait for no one!” Erik shouted after his brother.

_____________

“This is…?”

“I’m Malaika.”

“Oh yeah! Malaika. Good to see you again, sweetheart.”

Erik nudged John while they were seated in Silverfox; a luxury strip club on Victoria Island in Lagos. John perked up and gave his twin brother a sideways glance before reaching out his hand to greet Malaika. Her soft, graceful hand within his calloused one felt warm and friendly. John took the time to admire Malaika. She has some outstanding characteristics that make her irresistible. Among them all, her rich, dark skin with big, dark brown eyes stood out to him the most. Skin so lovely and smooth. She had a curvy figure with a tall stature that made him wonder if she were a model. She wore her hair in straight-back stitch braids that hung down to her butt and a form-fitting, cyan-blue dress with silver stiletto sandals.

“How you doin’ I’m John.”

“Hi, John,” Malaika’s eyes scanned his body, “First time in Lagos?”

“It is, yeah.” John responded.

Malaika took a seat next to John with her drink in hand trying to spark conversation. Her best friend, Zola, sat with Erik on the opposite end of the sofa on his lap. Malaika was used to seeing her best friend being all over Erik. She was his ‘girl’ whenever he touched down in Lagos. Zola’s coarse, voluminous Afro shielded Erik’s face while she leaned in to give him a kiss on his plump lips. Erik had a handful of her bubble booty that stood out in her denim shorts. When she faced forward again, she caught eyes with John and waved. Zola was just as gorgeous with her toasty-brown skin and mahogany eyes. Her sheer-black halter top gave a brazen view of her pierced nipples.

“How do you like it so far?” Malaika asked.

“It’s a vibe. Definitely into it.”

John reached for his drink and Malaika’s eyes tracked it.

“What’s in your cup?”

“STARR Rum. I’m a rum kind of guy. You?”

Malaika twirled the last remnants of her drink around, “It’s some Patron mix the bartender did for me. I don’t really like it.”

She pouted her lip before sitting her cup down on the low table in front of them.

“We still got rum left in the bottle. I can pour you some…”

John uncapped the bottle and proceeded to fill Malaika’s cup. Meanwhile, Zola and Erik are watching the various women twirl and do tricks on the pole. They had already thrown cash and some of it littered the floor of their section.

“What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

John angled his body to face Malaika while relaxing back against the lounge sofa.

“I’m a Navy SEAL.”

“Hmm,” Malaika roamed John’s body with her sultry eyes, “Is it dangerous?”

John chuckles. In his mind, he was saying what he really thought but he’d just met Malaika so he didn’t want to give off bad vibes. Of course being a SEAL is dangerous.

“It’s considered one of the most dangerous military occupations. Combat operations…hazardous training…specialized missions…it’s risky. You gotta be prepared for that.”

“Wow. I bet you’ve seen a lot.”

John nodded his head, “I have. More than I’d like to discuss,” John cleared his throat, “Tell me a little bit about Malaika.”

Malaika tucked her chin bashfully, “I’m in medical school currently. Not much of a social life at the moment but it’s worth it.”

John’s unruly brows shot up with interest, “that’s dope. Educated and gorgeous…I like that.”

Zola sipped her drink while watching John and Malaika get to know each other. She held a tiny smirk on her face. Erik was too busy making his dick jump against her ass. Zola looked down at him over her shoulder as best as she could with all the hair she had.

“You need to cut it out, Killmonger. Calm that big dick down…”

“I’ll calm it down when you get that phat ass up off my lap, girl.” Erik retorted.

“So it’s my fault? Teh,” Zola rolled her eyes, “Not my fault you can’t control yourself.”

“Here we go,” Erik threw his head back and laughed, “Zola…stop acting tough. Because we both know that I’ll put your ass through the mattress and have you screaming big daddy at the top of your lungs. Stop it.”

“Who did you fuck in Cuba?”

Erik’s eyes went round at her outlandish question.

“Zo, are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. I want to know.”

“I thought you ain’t care who I fuck when I’m away?”

“I haven’t seen you in months and you’ve been giving this big dick to some other bitch and I wanna know…”

A chuckle could be heard from across the table and Erik peeked over to see John and Malaika tittering into their cups.

“Help me out, bro,” Erik gave John a pleading look.

“I wish I could, E. I haven’t seen you in months either.” John bantered.

Erik put his middle finger up at his twin. John simply laughed. He knew his brother all too well. He was definitely fucking some women in Cuba. He’d caught his brother in many nefarious situations with women. Some of which almost got them killed. Erik’s sex drive had to be sated even through war. John had control for some time because he’d been in a long-term relationship with a high school sweetheart at one point before dating Karen on and off for three years.

“Forget all that. I’m here right now with you. Let’s make the most of this shit before I’m gone again.” Erik said with finality.

Zola simply rolled her eyes in response. Erik’s hands caressing her frame as he stared her down with an unwavering gaze while whispering to her seemed to melt her jealous core. She couldn’t fight the urge to blush when Erik’s hand palmed her ass and gripped it tight and possessively.

“You two are so different,” Malaika whispered to John, “you’re very laid back and he’s very outspoken.”

“Believe it or not, we play off of each other well,” John replied, “My silence is just me being observant for the most part.”

“You seem shy.”

John licked his lips and cracked a dimpled smile, “I’m not. I promise you.”

Malaika giggles.

“You definitely are though,” John elevated a single brow and squinted at her, “You’ve been avoiding eye contact with me.”

Malaika opened her mouth to speak but she quickly realized he was correct.

“It’s not that I’m shy…you’re just fine as hell.”

She turned and crossed one leg over the other, causing her hip to poke out. John fixated his lustful gaze on her generous curves. The colorful luminance bouncing around the club against her dark skin had him salivating for a taste. It’s been too long since he’d had some good pussy. And Malaika could be just the girl to soak his dick.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” John scooted closer to her, “But don’t let that intimidate you. I love eye contact. And the way you walked in here tonight showed me you have a lot of confidence,” John took a chance and placed his hand over her knee and started stroking it with his thumb, “That’s a huge turn on for me.”

“Mm, oh yeah? What else turns you on?”

Malaika traced John’s thin, gold chain with her gemstone-covered acrylic nail.

“A woman that knows what she wants…isn’t afraid to express it and show it…release her inhibitions.”

“Mmm…”

John’s words had Malaika yoked up by the pussy. Her breathing changed, her eyes went low, her nipples hardened, and she couldn’t keep her hands off of John. She ran her hand down his chest and down his thigh. John’s dick bricked-up so fast he didn’t see it coming. She was stroking his thigh while his dick expanded in his pants.

“Ayo, J!”

John looked up to see a woman so fine he almost groaned. A pole dancer with fat titties, thunder thighs, and a top-shelf ass started showing out in the section. The red-hot one-piece with a large keyhole cutout that left little to the imagination and a pair of stunning stockings attached to the bodice barely covered her body. John had never seen so much ass in his life.

“Throw that shit, baby!” Zola shouted while throwing hundreds.

Erik stood up and started making it rain over her. John grabbed a stack and flicked it towards her direction. She kept popping that ass like she didn’t own a vertebrae. Malaika clapped her hands in time to the bounce of the dancer’s cheeks.

“Damn, ma! Show out!” Erik yelled. L

“Aye!” Malaika said loudly.

“That ass is crazy,” John shook his head.

When she finished dancing, she collected her money and walked off as if she didn’t just render everyone speechless.

______________________

They were lucky to make it back safely to the mansion in one piece with the way Erik was driving his yellow Lotus Emira V6. The ladies took off their five-inch heels at the door and John had to bend down and help Malaika because she couldn’t keep her balance from all the rum she drank. Erik took off his embroidered crochet shirt that matched his shorts and threw it over the banister. His locs fell into his eyes at that point from the wind when he was driving.

“Are we still getting in the jacuzzi?” Zola asked.

“Hell yeah. You got an extra bikini for Malaika?”

“I do. Let me go get it,” Zola climbed the stairs while gripping the banister.

Erik followed her and he caught up with her to slap her on the ass.

“You okay?” John had a tight hold on Malaika’s waist so she wouldn’t fall.

Malaika drunkenly giggled, “I’m good. Let's change.”

John grasped Malaika’s hand and they climbed one side of the staircase. When they got to the second landing, John led Malaika down the hall to the room he’s in during his stay. John pushed open the double doors to a large room with a balcony that oversees the yard and beyond. John grabbed his bag to find his swim shorts while Malaika started taking off her dress. John paused to watch her. She was standing before him in a strapless, nude bra and matching thong. Malaika caught him staring and gave him a seductive smirk.

“This will be all yours tonight,” She crawled over to him on the bed like a feline, “All yours…”

John’s eyes followed her movements until she reached her destination and pressed her sweet lips against his. The kiss felt damn good. John could kiss for long periods. He looked from her lips to her eyes and then he closed the space between them and his lips were on hers again. Malaika sat up on her knees and started unbuttoning John’s boxy-fit, black top. She smoothed the fabric from his shoulders and broke the kiss to see his body.

“Fuck, you’re body is…mmm…Abeg, come fuck my pussy…”

Malaika’s hand found its way between John’s legs and she squeezed his stiff dick. John grunted against her lips.

“You’re so sexy, John…”

She was hungry for attention. Malaika started fumbling with his black pants to free his third leg. John paused her horny pursuit with a gentle grasp of her wrist.

“Protection.”

Malaika gave John a slight pout. John slipped away to his bag and opened a small pocket to grab a SKYN elite large condom. He made his way back over to her and Malaika proceeded to take off her bra. John stopped her again and then he tilted her chin up to make her stare directly in his eyes.

“Let me,” John reached around her and unhooked her bra.

His eyes admired the slope of her well-endowed breasts with large, brown areolas and small nipples. John didn’t waste time crouching down to suck on each erect nipple just so he could taste her luscious, dark skin. Malaika thrust her chest out and tried her best to watch John but the way he looked her in the eyes was too much for her to handle.

“Fuck, John…just like that…” Malaika moaned.

She tasted just as good as she looked. John was drooling. The door to the room opened and in walked Zola wearing a sage green bikini with her hair styled in a bun to avoid getting wet. John popped Malaika’s left titty out his mouth and sat up quickly. Zola and her bouncy, glistening cleavage crawled onto the bed and she held out a royal blue bikini for Malaika to wear.

“Here, bitch! Hurry up!”

Malaika sat up and Zola took it upon herself to remove Malaika’s thong. John’s eyes stared between Malaika’s thighs at her semi-hairy pussy. Erik approached the door with a bottle of amber liquor in his hand, drinking straight from the rim. He had on a pair of black and white striped swim shorts. Malaika slipped on her bikini bottoms while Zola helped with her bikini top. John’s dick wouldn’t go soft and he really wanted to continue where they left off but Zola was dragging Malaika out of the room.

“You still ain’t ready, nigga?! Did we fuck up a moment?”

“Whatchu think?” John replied sarcastically.

He snatched up his red swim shorts.

“Can I get some privacy?”

Erik walked away and took his laughter with him.

After John got dressed, he made his way out to the jacuzzi. When he got there, Erik was seated on the edge of the jacuzzi with his feet in the water that bubbled up like a witches brew. Zola and Malaika were splashing each other and shrieking. John lowered himself into the jacuzzi and wrapped his arms around Malaika’s waist, pulling her towards him. He started peppering kisses down her slender neck. Zola placed herself between Erik’s legs and he fed her some liquor straight from the bottle. Some of it dribbled down her chin. Erik sank into the water and wrapped his hand around her bun, extending her neck so he could like and suck on her neck.

Malaika’s eyes couldn’t stray away from Erik’s broad, muscular back littered with tiny, raised scars. John noticed that she was staring and Malaika tried to play it off by kissing his cheek. John wasn’t surprised, Erik’s scars drew a lot of attention. And it made you question what type of person would do something like that over and over.

“I noticed you don’t have any scars…”

“…I have a few. We started them together. I just didn’t have the desire to continue…”

Malaika turned to face him, “Can I see them?”

John took Malaika’s right hand and brought it to his right side. Her fingertips grazed three small raised bumps.

“What made you stop?” Malaika stared up at John with curiosity.

John removed her hand and leaned in to give her tongue. That seemed to distract her. John wanted to focus on the sex and the good times. As beautiful as Malaika is, he knew what it would be between them. She didn’t need to know about that.

“You kiss like…I no get! I no get…”

Zola had her legs wrapped around Erik’s waist as she watched John and Malaika kiss over his shoulder.

“How come you never brought John around before?”

Erik pulled back to look at her. He scrunched his face at her question.

“Wetin? I mean…you’re identical twins. I’ve never seen twins so separated…”

Erik cocked his head to the side, “John has his own thing and so do I. That doesn’t mean we’re not close.”

“But—”

“Zo, you know you’re ruining the mood right? Look,” Erik points to John and Malaika, “Instead of you worrying about me and my brother's bond, you could be worrying about this big dick you missed so much.”

Erik lets Zola down and he climbs out of the Jacuzzi. He motions for her to come to him and he lifts her out of the water. Erik picks her up bridal style and Zola squeals. Malaika and John were too busy swapping spit to care.

____________________________

Zola missed his big dick alright.

That slight curvature to the left with the perfect amount of width-to-length ratio that would have you in the falsetto was back in Lagos after five long months. Despite Zola wanting to keep Erik all for herself, he’s a side dude. Zola is married and from what Erik knows, unhappy. They don’t talk about her marriage whenever they link. That’s Zola’s rule.

Her husband couldn’t fuck like Erik could. Despite her famine, Zola enjoyed the feeling of his fat dick sinking into her creamy center like it was the first time. Zola arched her back and took that long dick like a champ on the edge of the bed. Her wild, kinky fro shielded her face and she gripped on the bed as best as she could.

“I thought you said you liked big toys, Zo?!”

He pounded her pussy at different angles and different strokes to make her feel it. Zola had chills all over her body. His 6’4, 225 lb frame towering over her from behind could be seen in the reflection on the ceiling mirror. She looked back at him with tears in her eyes and nothing but cries escaping her mouth.

“Comot from dia…oooh…I can’t take it…Abeg, big daddy!”

Erik’s response to that was more strokes. His balls slapped her clit and her body convulsed. He popped her on the ass and that triggered her to cum hard on his condom-covered dick.

“Come up off this pussy, bitch? Huh? I thought I told you to take this fuckin’ dick? Huh?”

“Na so,” Zola replied weakly.

“Don’t play with me, Zo. I know how to get you…”

Erik slipped out and Zola released a heavy squirt. His dick and that curve was pressed against her spot on purpose to make her do that. Erik used his thumb to rub on her clit from the back causing more to release. She was a quivering mess in a puddle of her own release. Erik positioned Zola on her back and locked her legs with her knees pinned by her ears. Erik’s dick sank back inside of her and she almost lost it again.

“Fuck! Oh fuck…”

Zola gasped. Erik fucked her with a roll of his hips. He watched her face contorted in many different ways while grunting and biting his lip.

“Pussy creamy, you hear all that? Damn, girl…”

“Oh!”

“You lookin’ at this? Hm?”

Zola’s eyes looked down and all she could see was his big dick going in and out of her. He hit her spot so good she couldn’t keep still.

“Zola, how deep this pussy go? Deep enough for daddy?”

She could only nod and tremble. That bottom lip would not stop quivering. Staring up into his onyx eyes that were shielded by his locs, Zola watched as he cracked a smile.

“Right there…oh my god I’m cumming—”

Erik slowly pulled out and his dick sat on top of her waxed pussy lips as he released into the condom.

“Fuuuck. That pussy good, Zo. So good, baby…”

Erik coaxed Zola into a tongue kiss. She gripped his chin and he rubbed her pussy.

“You wish you could have me every night?”

Zola’s eyes welled up with tears. They weren’t sad tears. The definition of dickmatized was Zola. She knew that as soon as Erik left, it would be a long while before he returned.

“I’m on top now,” Zola sat up, “I want to feel that dick from another angle, daddy…”

Erik removed the old condom and grabbed a new one.

“You can ride it all you want, girl.”

Erik could recall sleepless nights filled with multiple sessions with Zola. Erik had hoes in different area codes but one thing about Zola, she could take dick well. And she was his best eater thus far. Zola climbed on top of Erik and got up on her feet to bounce. She lined his dick up with her opening and lowered herself. Zola gripped Erik’s shoulders and started bouncing.

“Unh! I love the way it feels going up inside of me!”

“I know, you got my nuts hurting, fuck!”

That ass collided with his balls each time she came down.

“DAT’S IT…fuck this dick…ride this shit so good…just like that…Suck the nut out this dick with them pussy lips…pussy hella tight…take this nut like you tryna get a baby…”

Zola moaned loudly and she fell to her knees on top of Erik. Her walls gripped his dick with tight pulses. Erik’s hips jerked and he groaned while painting the inside of the condom milky-white.

_____________________

While Zola and Erik were busy, John and Malaika made their way back to the room. Their wet swimwear resided on the bathroom floor and Malaika was on her back in a flash. John was leaning over her body, kissing down her neck. His dick throbbed against her inner thigh the more his lips moved closer to her breasts. Malaika was trying to steal peeks at his dick. It felt heavy against her thigh, but did it match the sensation? She could only hope so.

Malaika and her hairy pussy were begging for attention. She cradled the back of his head while his lips went from nipple-to-nipple. John’s lips tugging on her nipples made her clit pulsate. This man was teasing her and she couldn’t take it. Malaika pushed him so that he would sit up. John lifted to his knees and Malaika anxiously lifted to admire his dick.

She blinked slowly at what would be the prettiest dick she’d ever seen. It had a slight curve to it, which was new for her because she’d never taken dick like that. From first glance, she flinched because of how intimidating his dick looked. Prominent veins, wide tip, girthy, and at least 8 ½ inches. John startled her by caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. Malaika’s eyes met his. He had this hungry look in his eyes. She liked that a lot. Very primal.

“You want it? Come get it…”

Malaika found herself on her knees. John stood up and Malaika wrapped a hand around his shaft. She bounced it in her palm and realized how heavy it was. Her stomach clenched. She was going to fuck all this dick?

“Malaika.”

She opened up and wrapped her lips around him and started sucking. A longing sigh escaped his mouth. It was as if he’d forgotten how good it felt to have his dick sucked.

“Mhm…mhm…good girl…”

He gently strokes her chin with his thumb. Malaika sucked as much as she could.

“Damn…I needed this…”

John shut his eyes and drew his bottom lip into his mouth. Malaika’s loud slurping filled the expansive room.

“You like that shit?”

Malaika bobbed her head. He even tasted good. She slurped and John had a tight grip on her shoulders and he started bucking his hips. Malaika did her best to relax her throat. Spit trickled down the sides of her mouth continuously. John’s tongue swiped his bottom lip and his eyebrows knitted together. He was close. Malaika could tell because he was swelling in her mouth to the point that her jaws were sore.

“I’m finna nut…ughhhhh—”

Malaika’s pussy ached to be fucked when the first taste of cum from his beautiful balls hit her tongue. She had to moan herself. The more she jerked, cum painted her tongue. John watched with low eyes and parted lips. When she finished, John lifted her to her feet and instructed her to get on her back and spread her thighs. She grabbed him by the dick impatiently and John had to grab the condom to roll it on.

“Slow down, mamas…”

Malaika spread her pussy lips, “I should have shaved—”

She wasn’t prepared for that intrusion. Malaika cried out so loud her voice bounced off the walls. John didn’t care about some hair. He had some himself. He wanted—NEEDED to be inside of her. He had his hands on her hips while his big dick pumped her. With each thrust, Malaika would whimper. Silent but deadly. He could fuck some pussy up.

“John! Oh my god…”

He was swimming in her pussy. The wetness seemed to overflow the more he fucked her.

“Mhm…”

His chain in her face and the scent of sandalwood on his skin stimulated her senses. Malaika was going to cum hard. Whenever she looked up into his eyes, stroked the back of his head, and said his name, he would just stare back with this neutral expression. That was dangerous. It meant he KNEW his dick was lethal.

“Oooh, here it comes, YES—”

“Good girl…cum for me…”

Malaika spasmed beneath John. He kissed her temple and then he picked her up, walking Malaika over to the dresser. He sat her down on the dresser and without a word he hooked her left knee over his arm while using his right hand to line his dick up again and before she knew it he was back inside. Both of her knees over his arms, John thrust in and out of her. Malaika locked eyes with him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“I gotchu baby…”

“Yeah?”

He was fucking her so good Malaika couldn’t believe it. Her rich, dark skin glistened with sweat and so did his russet skin. John watched as his dick went in and out with a bite of his lip. He lifted Malaika completely off of the dresser and bounced her on his dick.

“John! John! John!”

Her cries were beautiful. John felt that sensation.

“Shit, I’m cumin’—”

John gave Malaika two more thrusts before he erupted into the condom.

_____________________

Time was lost to them as they slept in a pool of their own secretions. The silence that surrounded them in the darkness of that room alerted John to a ruckus. His ears could pick up the faintest of noises. John slowly sat up in bed, rubbing his left eye with the back of his hand. He was still naked with no desire to get dressed in case Malaika wanted to go another round.

John glanced down at the sleeping beauty before looking towards the door. He gently pulled the sheets back and climbed out of bed to grab a pair of shorts and a white beater. When he finished getting dressed, out of habit John grabbed a black pistol with a long barrel and a slightly lighter trigger pull for ultimate precision. He approached the door and carefully twisted one of the handles to open it.

The hallway was pitch black. John entered the hall, eyes moving from left to right, making his way towards his brother's room. When he approached Erik’s door, John tried to push it open but he was met with the muzzle of a silver, chrome plated Glock. Erik was on the other end. His hard, menacing expression relaxed when he realized it was John.

“You heard something too.” Erik whispered.

“Yeah,” John motioned for Erik to follow him, “it came from this way…”

The twin brothers stealthily moved towards the top of the stairs. When they got there, John spotted what looked like a militant. He didn’t think twice before pulling the trigger. They fell to their knees and as soon as they did, more shots rang out causing John and Erik to take cover.

“What the fuck?!” Erik pressed his back against a wall.

He could hear footsteps drawing closer so Erik jumped out and fired his pistol, the bullets connecting with the intruders head. John covered his brother by aiming his shots over the banister. He hit one in the chest and the other in the leg. They rushed down the stairs two at a time and broke out into combat, disarming whoever came at them.

“Argh!”

John dragged one of them away while Erik had his knee in the back of the other's head with his gun pressed against their cheek.

“Who sent you?! SPEAK!” John barked out.

“Erik!”

Erik looked towards the top of the stairs to find Zola and Malaika captured by more militant men. They were both barely covered with a sheet to conceal their nudity.

“If you shoot, we will kill them…”

Erik scowled furiously at whoever it was making threats.

“You’ve been on our radar for a while, Killmonger…”

John looked from his brother to the men holding the women hostage.

“Bandits?” John questioned.

Erik clenched his jaw. He kept a low profile in Lagos. No one knew about his whereabouts except Adewele, who he did business with. Did he betray him?

“How did you find me?”

The bandit wearing Nigerian militia and a red scarf shielding half of his face pointed his gun at Zola. John closed his eyes for a second. Erik looked at Zola with venomous suspicion.

“She’s our eyes and ears, isn’t that right? My wife?”

“What?” John couldn’t believe it, “You’ve been fucking the wife of your enemy?!”

Erik lost it.

“Erik, please–I–I–”

John watched as Zola’s brains were blown. The apparent leader of the bandits didn’t expect that turn of events. Malaika wailed, trying to escape. John watched her struggle, his mind racing. He didn’t know whether to trust Malaika. Erik didn’t hesitate to kill Zola. Malaika was tossed ferociously to the side while guns blazed. Erik raced up the stairs to handle the leader himself while John fought his way up towards Malaika. He got to her in time and fought off a militant before tossing his lifeless body down the stairs.

“John,” Malaika stared at him with tear-stricken eyes, “I didn’t know…I swear.”

“Here,” He helped Malaika to her feet, “I want you to hide until we make sure it’s safe, okay? Go.”

John watched Malaika run into a nearby room and close the door behind her. John ran off in search of Erik. He could hear commotion and found Erik fighting the leader of the bandits. A knife fight. John barged over and was nearly knocked over when a militant tried to subdue him. Erik swung his blade expertly while covered in blood.

“When I get you, I’m cutting your fucking head off!!!!” The leader shouted.

John brought the militant to the floor and wrapped his hands around his neck. He watched the life leave his body. Erik took a slash to his chest before throwing his blade, precisely hitting the leader in the eye. He dropped like a sack of potatoes to his death. Erik rocked back on his heels and dropped the blade in his hand. John approached his brother to check on him. Erik looked up at John with a smirk before laughing. John wasn’t in the mood for laughter.

“…I’m gonna go check on Malaika—”

“Nah, she’s probably in on this shit just like Zola. I can’t believe that bitch betrayed me.”

“You can’t believe it? Are you fucking serious? You ain’t learned from last time?”

“Whatever,” Erik picked himself up and stormed over to the door, “I gotta make a call. We need to be outta here before they come knocking.”

John clenched his fists and instead of going after Erik he went in search of Malaika. John made his way to the room she hid herself in and when he got closer he realized the door had been opened. John kicked the door open and flicked on the light. It was empty. He made his way back to the room he was in and noticed it was empty too.

Malaika had fled. He didn’t have time to process his emotions in regards to Malaika’s true intentions. All he hoped was that the girl was safe.

“How soon can they get here to clean up? I gotta disappear before shit gets hot…I’m gon’ keep it real with you, Adewele, I don’t trust anybody right now. Not even you. I appreciate how you came through, but I’m cutting ties…just wire me my last payment and we’re good…”

John listened in on his brother’s phone call before revealing himself. Erik paused to look John square in the eyes.

“I called a friend, they’ll meet us outside of the city to fly out. I’m gonna be off the radar for a bit to clean up this mess…”

John shook his head, “Do what you gotta do, bro. Just keep me the fuck out of it. I don’t wanna know what you did to have these people on your back. I got my own shit.”

Erik chuckled dryly, “Yeah, I know. Fuck me and my shit. I get it…”

Erik started packing his things. John had another mission when he got back.

“Listen, E. You should cool off for a while. Lay low someplace safe and leave this shit alone—”

“Can’t. I got a big job in Vietnam. I’m looking at a million dollar paycheck, bruh. I’m not laying low and missing that opportunity. You wouldn’t know anything about that…”

He didn’t have the energy to argue with Erik. And arguing wouldn’t change his mind. John walked away to get his things together. While he cleaned up and got dressed to leave, whoever Erik’s business partner called showed up to clean up the house. John watched the large men toss the dead bodies onto a five ton M939. John followed Erik out of the mansion and towards an armored, all black, Military hummer. They tossed their bags onto the back and climbed into the front.

Erik and John drove for five hours until they arrived at a dirt strip in the middle of nowhere in rural Benin. It took a lot of effort to get there without running into trouble. There was a helicopter waiting to transport them to their jet. John hopped out of the vehicle and gathered their bags while Erik spoke with his friend.

“This is my twin brother, John. John, this is Turk. We used to work closely together doing odd jobs…”

He appeared to be an Ethiopian man wearing a turban head wrap and dingy clothes covered in ultisol.

“Nice to meet you, John. Are you two ready to fly out?”

John shook Turk’s hand, “Yeah, let’s bounce.”

Once their bags were secure on the helicopter, they strapped themselves in and Turk took off.

John took a sip of water out of a canister while Erik focused below to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“E…”

Erik cut his eyes at John.

“I think it’s time to be abstinent.”

Erik snorted, “I see you got jokes…”

“You didn’t know who Zola’s husband was?”

“…She told me her husband was a limp-dick Doctor. There were no signs pointing at the shit being suspicious.”

“Malaika left.” John said.

“Who gives a fuck? You should have killed her ass. What happened to all that without remorse type shit?”

John shrugged, “It doesn’t matter now. Let’s get out of here now before shit blows up. You're still coming home after your next job, right?”

“I ain’t got a choice. I don’t want G-ma lighting a fire under my ass about it.”

John chuckled tiredly, “You know she don’t play.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Aye,” John leaned forward on his knees and reached out his hand, “Make it home in one piece.”

Erik clasped his brother's hand and gave him a pointed look, “Always. They don’t call me Killmonger for nothing. We touchin’ down in The Bay the same day and gettin’ hyphy.”

___________________

Promises couldn’t be kept. John was back in California within two weeks, but Erik hadn’t shown up. He had another top secret job awaiting him and he communicated to John via email that he’d be home in a few days. John drove to his new apartment in his all-black, BMW M340 with the windows rolled down, his favorite shades on, and a smirk on his face. The first stop he wanted to make was to his favorite barber in Oakland. He needed a good fade with a crisp line-up.

After his appointment, John headed to his new apartment and walked into a halfway furnished living space. He sat down on his black leather home theater sectional and released a sigh of contempt. It felt good to be home. No more sleepless nights, death knocking at his door, and covert missions. He could shower, eat, sleep, beat his dick, and watch crap TV. He could play COD and do normal things like grocery shop and spend time with his family.

After a long shower, John moisturized and threw on a pair of shorts with a white tee. He slipped on a durag and decided to order in. He had a long talk on the phone with his grandmother and promised that he would be over on Sunday for dinner. John ordered himself a meat lover's pizza and some hot wings. He sat at his high top on a stool with his laptop opened to a dating site. After Malaika, John was fiendish for another woman to spend some time with.

He settled on Hinge. He wasn’t really feeling Bumble at the moment. He was looking for someone to hook up with to scratch that itch for pussy. Bumble had too many women looking for commitment and John wasn’t ready to be locked down quite yet. He hadn’t checked his profile in a while so he was curious to see how many matches he has.

“Dana…26…art major…”

John read her profile and he instantly lost interest. He continued.

“Kayla. You’re too young…”

He washed his food down with some wine.

Hi, handsome

You have a nice smile

Are you interested in hooking up?

He started to wonder if this was a good idea. He’d gone through thirty profiles and not one was enough to make him pursue. That was, until he came across a woman he’d matched with a few days ago. He had to get through almost fifty matches to find her.

Her name was Gia; a thirty-one-year old woman with undeniable beauty. She’s a Spelman graduate with a degree in Biology and Anthropology. John read her dating profile and found Gia to be captivating and he hadn’t even spoken to her.

She’s looking for a low commitment relationship with good vibes, food, and conversation. She makes it known that she’s career-driven and is looking for a man in uniform, specifically a soldier. That narrows down the dating pool. There are other traits about her that John loved and he didn’t waste time sending her a message.

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[drdemonprince]

Thousands of people did not just suddenly stop using headphones one day because they felt like it, or because they stopped caring about people with sensory sensitivities like me. No, people stopped using headphones because cell phone manufacturers stopped including headphone jacks in their products. 

My sensory-processing issues are a physical element of my disability that would absolutely still exist in a world without capitalism. Like my poor fine motor control and reduced muscle tone, my sensory processing issues debilitate me: there are tasks I simply cannot perform because of how my body is wired, and this makes me different from most other people in ways that are non-negotiable.  Still, my physical disabilities are worsened quite clearly by capitalism: Because large corporations have both a profit motive and a vested interest in reinvesting those profits into advertisements, and because the internet does not receive public financial support, my daily life is bombarded with bright, noisy, flashing, disruptive advertisements, which makes it far more difficult for me to process relevant information and can swiftly bring me to the verge of a meltdown.  If the internet were funded as a public utility and was therefore not sandblasted in ads, I would be less disabled. If my local streets were less plastered in billboards and littered with junk mail advertising chain restaurants, I would be less disabled. 

Because companies like Apple financially rely upon consumers replacing their phones on an annual basis (despite how unsustainable and murderously cruel continuing to mine cobalt in Sudan for the production of all these new phones is), I must replace my phone regularly. With an updated phone model I lose my headphone jack and have to adapt to a new operating system and layout, and so my sensory issues and executive functioning challenges are exacerbated.  In a world where phones were produced in order to help human beings function rather than to make money, I would be less disabled.  Thanks to capitalism, I cannot exist in public if I am not purchasing anything. I cannot simply be present in a store, coffee shop, or even public plaza, enjoying my surroundings and taking the sight of other people in. I must contribute to the economy in order to justify it. If the brickwork of a nearby building fascinates me and I crave to feel it against my palms, I have to pretend that I wish to buy it, and be prepared to tell anyone who asks that that’s what I intend to do. I can’t even stand on the corner and feel the sun on my face without worrying my neighbors might find it unusual and send the cops.  As an Autistic person, I often can’t fake being a perpetual consumer well enough. My desire to simply elope around my environment and take in new, interesting sensations registers as suspicious or concerningly mentally ill. And so I am further disabled and excluded from public life. 

The full essay is free to read or have narrated to you at drdevonprice.substack.com

[angelsknifeprty]

What would Sadie Adler be like being the fem!eader's girlfriend? I love she🩵

sadie as your girlfriend hcs ✿⋆.˚⊹

ways to help palestine | operation olive branch | keep eyes on sudan | haiti’s history | learn about congo

‧₊˚౨ৎ before the two of you started dating she was unexplainably protective over you. she was already very protective of the gang, leaping into action whenever there was danger. but she always seemed to have her eyes trained on you, watching like a hawk for if you were in any sort of trouble

‧₊˚౨ৎ this only intensifies when she finally gets to call you hers. you were always the first person she’d check on both in and after any danger. she’d rush to your side to protect you and make sure you weren’t too shaken up afterwards. her arm would constantly be wrapped protectively (and possessively) around your waist. when sadie was around you didn’t have to worry about taking shit from anybody, they’d have to go through her first

‧₊˚౨ৎ “you redirect that attitude to me, ‘cause if i hear another word leave that filthy mouth o’ yours, i’ll kill ya.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ she’s very generous with her death threats but to anyone who knows her or has any common sense, they know she’s not joking

‧₊˚౨ৎ despite her harsh exterior and brutal nature, she’s actually a big softie. she’s a fan of mushy pet names, calling you “sweetheart”, “angel”, “pretty girl”, you name it. and she’s not worried about calling you these in front of people. most think she’d shy away from it as she has a reputation for being a bit hot-headed and intimidating. but she holds her own well enough for there to be no doubt about whether she’s truly a threat or not, just for her to then turn around and dote on you like nothing happened

‧₊˚౨ৎ she is very possessive and loves calling you hers. what’s hers is hers and that will be known, every affectionate name having “my” in front of it

‧₊˚౨ৎ loves doing things for you, always talking about how she isn’t a fan of sitting around and not doing much. if she sees miss grimshaw is wearing you rather thin she won’t hesitate to come and take some tasks off of your hands, even though she prefers the more hands on dirty work the gang gets up to. but if it was for you, she’d do just about anything

‧₊˚౨ৎ if you aren’t already able to she’d teach you how to defend yourself, always worrying over what might happen if she’s not around to protect you. the idea of that makes her feel helpless, which she hates, so it brings her some comfort to make sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself if needed

‧₊˚౨ৎ she loves to fluster you. she is absolutely not shy when teaching you how to shoot, pressing herself up against you as she readjusts your posture and gives you directions in that raspy voice of hers. you swear she wants you to start messing up when she whispers a proud, “atta girl,” after a particularly good shot. “my pretty girl’s doin’ so good.”

‧₊˚౨ৎ you are the only person she’ll play the harmonica for. she was very reserved about it at first, nobody but her late husband getting to hear her play. but when she feels herself becoming more at ease with you she’ll occasionally let you stick around while she plays. you of course respect her and her privacy but on days where she can’t bring herself to dismiss your company, she lets you stay

“alright, you can stay, darlin’. but ya can’t laugh if i mess up, okay?” 

‧₊˚౨ৎ she is actually very upfront about her feelings. she’s quite openly vulnerable, though she wishes she wasn’t. she’s a tough cookie to break but sees the importance of being honest with you (she’s so applejack coded aaaa) and doesn’t like leaving tension in the air if you’re upset with each other or one of you is going through a hard time

‧₊˚౨ৎ will absolutely spoil you with her bounty hunting money. what better way to spend her time after chasing down crooks than giving you whatever you wanted? it also wouldn’t hurt to give you any shiny trinkets she took from the pockets of her newest catches, they wouldn’t be needing them anyway once they were behind bars

‧₊˚౨ৎ literally the best girlfriend ever, i firmly believe she devotes her every breath to doing right by you <3

a/n: i love sadie sm i wanna write for her more !! i hope you enjoyed :D xoxo

[gardenvarietygay]

Unsure whether Anansi’s Library is the creator of this graphic but I wanted to share it. Because it was a YouTube community post, I decided to screenshot it for (hopefully) a little more accessibility off platform. Here’s the link to their post.

If you’d like more information about the conflict in Sudan, here’s a link to a podcast from the Council on Foreign Relations on the topic.

[Transcription: A graphic featuring a mother and child with the following text. How can you help Sudan?

Boycott The UAE - The UAE is arming the RSF (Rapid Support Force), which is the same genocidal militia that has been carrying out ethnic cleansing in Darfur. Boycott UAE products don't fly Emirates, nor visit the UAE.

Contact your representative - The UAE is arming the RSF with weapons imported by the USA, Israel, South Korea, Indonesia, & the UK. Tell your representatives to stop arming the UAE & to stop backing them until they pull out of Sudan.

Spread awareness - Keep your eyes on Sudan, repost, share, and tell people about the plight millions of Sudanese people are facing.

Demand a ceasefire - 5% of Sudan's population could die of starvation by September. Thousands could die of treatable illnesses. Both parties are blocking food and aid shipments at the borders. Call for a ceasefire so humanitarian aid can reach citizens.

Donate - SICC has a goal of ten thousand dollars to help fight hunger in Sudan. With your help, we've been able to help feed over 500 people.

Your donation will be received by:

•Khartoum Aid Kitchen

•Maygoma Orphanage

•Shehem task force

End transcription.]

[haggishlyhagging]

The strength of this politics lies, in fact, in its dynamism, in the fluid energy that links unapologetic intellect with unashamed passion; it is a means, not an end; a process, not a dogma. Consequently, what a radical feminist in Brazil (the nation's debt, for example) might consider her cutting-edge issue, need not be the same as that considered a priority by a radical feminist in Thailand (combating sex tourism) or in Kuwait (winning women's suffrage) or in Sudan (ending the practice of female genital mutilation) or Nepal (gaining inheritance rights) or the Pacific Island nations (halting French nuclear testing, the fallout of which creates "jellyfish babies"—children born with no spines), and so on—and so on, and on.

What radical feminists have in common, though, includes a stubborn commitment to the people of women, the courage to dare question anything and dare redefine everything, a dedication to making the connections between issues, a sobering comprehension of the enormity of this task—freeing more than half of humanity and, by so doing, saving the other half—and perhaps most importantly of all, radical feminists share an audacious understanding of this politics' centrality to the continuation of sentient life itself on this planet.

This is no hyperbole. Women constitute the majority of the human species, so the female condition is hardly a marginal or minority issue. Furthermore, all the ills that afflict humankind—from pollution to war to poverty—impact first and worst on women, who are also the last to be consulted about solutions to such problems.

-Robin Morgan, “Light Bulbs, Radishes, and the Politics of the 21st Century” in Radically Speaking: Feminism Reclaimed

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

10+ Good Things Biden has Done: Education & Immigration Edition

Just a list of 10+ good things Biden has done in the last 4 years because I’ve been hearing too much rhetoric that it doesn’t matter who you vote for. It does make a difference. 

Find more good things here, here, and here.

Canceled over $140B of student debt for nearly 40 million borrowers. (x)

Strengthened protections for sexual assault survivors, pregnant and parenting students, and LGBTQ+ students in schools through an updated Title IX rule. This updated rule strengthens sexual assault survivors rights to investigation– something that had been gutted under the Trump administration, strengthens requirements that schools provide modifications for students based on pregnancy, prohibits harassment based on sexual orientation or gender identity, and more. (x) 

Revoked an order that limited diversity and inclusion training. (x)

Cracked down on for profit colleges. (x)

Reaffirmed students’ federal civil rights protections for non-discrimination based on race, national origin, disability, religion, sexual orientation, gender in schools. Specifically, the Department of Education made clear students with disabilities’ right to school, limiting the use of out of school suspensions and expulsions against them. (x) (x) 

Enhanced the Civil Rights Data Collection, a national survey that captures data on students’ equal access to educational opportunities. These changes will improve the tracking of civil rights violations for students, critical for advocates to respond to instances of discrimination. 

Provided guidance on how colleges and universities can still uphold racial diversity in higher education following the Supreme Court decision overturning affirmative action. (x)

Designated Temporary Protected Status (TPS) status for immigrants from Cameroon, Haiti, ​​El Salvador, Haiti, Honduras, Nepal, Nicaragua, Sudan, and more. (x) 

Ended the discriminatory Muslim and African bans (x). 

Provided a pathway to citizenship for spouses of U.S. citizens that have been living in the country without documentation. (x) 

Expanded healthcare to DACA recipients (x) 

This one is… barely a win but not by fault of the Biden Administration. The Department of Homeland Security as of Feb 2023 has reunited nearly 700 immigrant children that were separated from their families under Trump’s Zero Tolerance Policy. From 2017-2021, 3,881 children were separated from their families. About 74% of those have been reunited with their families: 2,176 before the task force was created and 689 afterward. But that still leaves nearly 1,000 children who remain tragically separated from their families from under the Trump Administration. (x)

(okay this one is maybe only exciting for me who’s a census nerd) Revised federal standards for the collection of race and ethnicity data, allowing for federal data that better reflect the country’s diversity. Now, government forms will include a Middle Eastern/ North African category (when previously those individuals would check “white”). Additionally, forms will now have combined the race & ethnicity question allowing for individuals to check “Latino/a” as their race (previously Latine individuals would be encouraged to check “Latino” for ethnicity and “white” for race… which doesn’t really resonate with many folks). (x) (I know this sounds boring but let me tell you this is BIG when it comes to better data collection– and better advocacy!).

Rescinded a Trump order that would have excluded undocumented immigrants from the 2020 Census which would have taken away critical funds from those communities.

Has proposed investments in a lot of programs including universal pre-k, childcare, mental health programs in schools, a national medical leave program for all workers and more. (x) 

Last… let’s also not forget all the truly terrible things Trump did when he was in office. If you need a reminder, scroll this list, this one mostly for giggles + horror, for actual horror about what a Trump presidency has in store, learn about ‘Project 2025’ from the Heritage Foundation. I know this post is about reasons to vote FOR Biden but let’s not forget the many, many reasons to vote for him over Trump.

Looking for more?

10+ good things Biden has done in climate and labor

10+ good things Biden has done in healthcare and housing

10+ good things Biden has done in the justice and courts system

A few other notes

Voting for Biden or Trump shouldn’t be the only reason you vote. You know what elections have more power over your life? LOCAL elections. If you’re not feeling jazzed about Biden… vote for someone really cool running for mayor, or your rep, or on your school board and then begrudgingly vote for Biden. 

A reminder that if someone online is trying to discourage you to vote there’s a good chance they are a paid actor to do so. Voter suppression was a well-documented tactic during the 2016 election and I’m sure the trolls are out in force again. 

Check your voter registration here, make a plan to vote, and encourage your friends to vote as well. 

All in all, yeah… there’s a lot of shitty things still happening. There’s always going to be shit but things aren’t going to change on their own. And that change starts (it certainly doesn’t end) with voting. 

Go vote in November.

[mariacallous]

Shortly after the start of Israeli assault on Gaza, which came in response to Hamas’s murderous Oct. 7 attack on its territory, Israel’s government claimed that its targeting of a major hospital in the north was justified because of the presence of an important command base secretly maintained there by its enemies.

Even long after most of the northern Gaza Strip had been pummeled into rubble and brought under the control of the Israeli army, no proof of anything resembling a major terrorist operations base has been shared with the world.

In the weeks that followed, as Israel’s offensive proceeded southward, reports of large-scale Palestinian casualties multiplied. As of the latest count, the number of deaths has been placed northward of 22,000 and is still climbing.

All the while, though, Israeli spokespeople have cast doubt on this accounting, saying that the real numbers are unknown and suggesting that the reported ones are unreliable because their main source has been the Hamas-operated Gaza Health Ministry. Even U.S. President Joe Biden gave this kind of skepticism a lift when he said he had “no notion that the Palestinians are telling the truth.”

Then, nearly a month ago, came word from a report published in the Lancet, one of the world’s most highly respected medical journals, that a group of researchers had found no evidence of inflated mortality reporting.

As a columnist, I have felt the increasingly powerful tug of other topics. There’s the ongoing civil war in Sudan, which is almost certainly an even worse tragedy than Gaza in terms of loss of life. An important election was held last month in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, one of Africa’s most important countries and a land that has mostly spent the past few decades adrift.

It is this sort of thing that routinely gets underreported that attracted me to column-writing in the first place. If not quite as neglected, there is an election of major significance about to be held in Taiwan, the outcome of which may help determine global war and peace over the next decade in ways that are totally out of proportion with that small island’s size. In South America, also often overlooked, there is Venezuela’s increasingly open covetousness about its neighbor Guyana’s oil-rich territory and a fascinating recent election in Argentina.

Yet it would be wrong to turn one’s gaze away from events in Gaza prematurely. To do so would facilitate the task of the spin doctors on all sides and worsen our own callousness toward one of the worst human catastrophes the world has experienced in recent years.

As the conflict has dragged on and Israel has stepped up its military pressure against Gaza, it has found itself on the defensive on other fronts, most notably that of world opinion, with the United States increasingly isolated as one of the few countries willing to credit its accounts of what is happening on the ground there—and willing to defend Israel’s actions. Meanwhile, the reasons to doubt Israel’s explanations of its strategy and actions continue to multiply.

At various times, Israel has insisted, for example, that it has taken great care in its targeting to minimize death of civilians and damage to housing and basic infrastructure. Even for nonexperts, the more that time goes by, the harder this has become to reconcile with what our eyes have been telling us, as the images have rolled in showing what look like Dresden-level damage of broad and densely inhabited swaths of a territory only twice as large as Washington, D.C. Where apartment buildings once stood, there are now only heaps of detritus, which grieving and orphaned family members are left to sift through with their bare hands in search of whatever scraps of their old lives they can recover.

Three months into the war, detailed reporting on the destruction in Gaza has called into question the notion that Israel ever took serious precautions. It was recently revealed by a U.S. intelligence assessment that—despite Israel’s high-tech arsenal—much of the worst devastation unleashed on Gaza thus far was the result of U.S.-furnished unguided (or “dumb”) munitions, which had accounted for nearly half of the 29,000 bombs dropped on Gaza up to that point in the conflict.

Similar problems with Israel’s account of its offensive have arisen with its claims that it has generally avoided attacking the so-called safe zones within the enclave where it has told millions of displaced Gazans to move in order to stay out of harm’s way. CNN verified in December that the Israeli military had carried out three airstrikes against these zones.

I write these things because of a growing sense of trepidation about this conflict. This sense is not only what seems to me to be a well-justified fear that the casualties in Gaza will continue to mount strongly in the weeks and months ahead, but also that the world is, perhaps predictably, becoming inured to the tragedy.

My other big fear is that a mounting weariness with the seeming hopelessness of the situation in Gaza will only push things toward the worst kinds of outcomes. The one that I worry about most is that Israel’s continuing assault on the territory, with its accompanying constriction of humanitarian relief and mounting nutrition insecurity and health crises, will lead to a disguised expulsion of Palestinians from their land, producing nothing more than a morally fatigued shrug from the rest of the world.

I say “disguised” because Israel may be able to carry this out without rounding people up and physically pushing them over the border with Egypt, which has said that it will not accept a new wave of Palestinian refugees. At a certain point, the desperation created by famine and disease could achieve the same result.

The Biden administration has said that it opposes the expulsion of Palestinians from the Gaza Strip and also rejects the idea of Israel assuming political and administrative control over the enclave, but the Biden team’s record of holding Israel to account on anything to do with this crisis is extremely weak, and its willingness to stand up to Israel by denying it military or political support still seems close to nil.

In Israel, in the meantime, there continues to be discussion among present and former officials about just this sort of “solution”—often using the euphemism “transfer,” though some in Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s party and coalition government have called outright for reducing Gaza’s population or even for a second Nakba—an Arabic word referring to the mass displacement of Palestinians after the creation of present-day Israel in 1948.

The world needs to say no to this and mean it. Clearing Palestinians en masse out of ever more of their land is just the kind of seductive-looking “fix” that is not only profoundly unjust, but will also only guarantee more hatred and tragedy in the future.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil has new attachés in Arab countries

Brazilian agricultural attachés have been newly appointed to nations including the United Arab Emirates and Algeria. Brazil’s incoming attaché to Ethiopia will also work to advance Brazilian interests in Djibouti.

A federal government decree has created agricultural attaché positions in 11 Brazilian diplomatic offices around the world, including Algeria and the United Arab Emirates. Agricultural attachés are tasked with finding business, investment and cooperation opportunities as it relates to Brazilian agriculture.

The Brazilian Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock said the newly appointed attachés to Arab countries are Vanessa Medeiros, to the United Arab Emirates, and Luciana Gomes, to Algeria. Fabiana Alves will be posted in Ethiopia, a non-Arab country, but she will be responsible for Djibouti, South Sudan (non-Arab), and the African Union, a 55-nation bloc which includes the Arab countries Mauritania, Morocco, Comoros, Djibouti, Somalia, Sudan, Algeria, Egypt, Libya, and Tunisia.

The decree issued on Thursday (14) also created Brazilian agricultural attaché positions in Nigeria, Turkey, Bangladesh, Malaysia, the Philippines (including the Marshall Islands, Micronesia, and Palau), Costa Rica, Chile, and Iran.  As a result, there are now 40 total Brazilian attachés serving non-extendable terms of up to four years abroad in countries including ones in Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Morocco. 

Source.

[2amtoosoon]

At this point , maybe we need to start really, really fucking small on this and work our way up. Like picking up big pieces of trash on your walk home from wherever and throwing it in a trash can. 2 hour old newborn steps.

To everyone that voted, no matter who you voted for, thank you for at least doing your civic duty and not wasting your voice.

To people who sat out. Do better. Your not 5 anymore, the silent treatment is not cute. You may not fuck with politics, but politics will fuck you regardless.

Everything after this is late night stream of consciousness. Might work on it later

The path for perfect is a beautiful, never ending illusion. A fantasy. It is 2024 and we are 8+ billion people strong. Getting that many people, let alone 330+ million people, to conceive, formulate, present and agree on the most basic shit is not possible let alone perfection. And we need to stop with the revolution fantasies. Because America, we are not France. We are not ready to hold the true people in power to task. We havent been that girl in 249 years. We are too comfortable and distracted. So instead we fight and divide ourselves. Single issues, whataboutisms, semantics and straight up lies.

So. Baby steps.

Dems. I know we hate standing still. But sometimes it is necessary because backsliding is never good. Moral righteous will keep your hands clean of blood, but the river will be red all the same. The goal should be to curtail as much bloodflow as possible in whatever quantity is POSSIBLE until it stops. Its okay to sit and work in small increments. I know this seems callous because I am indirectly mentioning Gaza and Palestine. People are dying. No one should have to sit and wait to be saved if they dont have to. And yet it persists, everywhere. Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, etc. Not even total annihilation of both sides will stop it because whoever survives will fight over whats left. We have to work together and try to achieve whats feasible when and where we can. And that means standing still sometimes until the right tools come along.

Donald Trump isnt going to executive order thousands of people into prisons for jaywalking on day 1. But he and his party will slow walk ideas into policies that cause irreparable harm in ways that aren't physical but will be far reaching (The Dept of Education plans). If not in this term, then set up for the next.

TLDR: Keep hope, stay strong. Maybe the robot overlords can take over and implant behavior regulating chips to keep us in line one day.

[deeptrashwitch]

Operation Firewall (2016)

Objective: Anwar Carabalí.

Note (2016): Due to the lack of information about the individual, is probable that he's using a fake name

The weapon trafficant, Anwar Carabalí, born in Sudan. No register of a date nor a location. His first appereance was two years before the operation, at first he did the usual things inside the black market. Sold rifles, grenades, mostly things for light infantry, but slowly started to expand the "bussiness".

Gunnery, drugs, humans, it became worst as the time passed. Soon the american intelligence had reports about a special cache, a nuclear cache on his power. And since they knew about the hate he had against the mere concept of the US, it was a priority to stop him and get the location of the weapon cache.

The CIA and the USSOCOM went after him during almost a year before having especific locations, six countries where he could be, and six sets of coordinates to look in. Morocco, Chad, Egipt, Lebanon, Congo and Angola.

As well, six teams were assigned to raid every location and go looking for the objectives. Information and Carabalí. Their orders about him? Eliminate him, no witnesses, no evidence.

The teams selected were:

SEAL Team 3: Officer in command, Captain John Cooper. Assigned to arrive in Casa Blanca, Morocco. Eight soldiers including the Captain.

Note (2018): Sergeant Blackwell's old team. Does he knows about Broken Statue?

Team 8, Third Ranger Batallion: Officer in command, Captain Taylor Smith. Assigned to arrive in Beirut, Lebanon. Ten soldiers including the Captain.

101th Combat Aviation Brigade: Officer in command, Captain Michael Woods. Assigned to arrive in Yamena, Chad. Twenty soldiers including the Captain.

Note (2018): Sergeant Jackson was part of it. As far as I'm aware, he's an old friend of Alicia. How much does he know?

4th Group, Second Raider Batallion: Officer in command, Captain Nick Sawyer. Assigned to arrive in Cairo, Egypt. Thirteen soldiers including the Captain.

720th Group, USAF Special Operations: Officer in command, Captain Janette Lahiffe. Assigned to arrive in Brazzaville, Congo. Nine soldiers including the Captain.

Task Force 267, First Raider Batallion: Officer in command, Captain Alicia Marchant. Assigned to arrive in Luanda, Angola. Seven soldiers including the Captain.

The result were variated and also were the times. Inside the Sahara Desert there was little to no result regarding the objectives. SEAL 3, the 101th and the 4th found basically nothing during the raids and went back to the bases they were assigned to. On the other hand the 720th found some information, not about the cache, but about the specific cities it was planned to be used.

The ones who got it worse were Team 8 and the 267, Lebanon and Angola. In Lebanon they found the information they needed about the cache, but it was a trap to cause the highest possible causalties. From ten soldiers, three died during withdrawal and two were severely injured, also the other five were hospitalized during weeks after they came back to the base.

Note (2016): It's suspected the use of chemical weapons. What does it mean for us?

But the Task Force 267 found their objective, unfortunately not the way they would have wanted. It had been an ambush at mid way, and they were captured under unknown circumstances. Just a day later they were reported MIA by the intelligence and pilot assigned to them. Almost three weeks later the recon teams intercepted a signal, weak, but with a code that only US troops knew and those pointed to especific coordinates.

Note (2018): What were those circumstances? And how Carabalí knew where to put the ambush?

A recon team was sent to look for survivors. There was one, Captain Alicia Marchant, who had in her hands the proof of the objective death. Soon they discovered the death of the rest of the Task Force, as well they found an extinguished bonfire filled with black bones. Later test revealed the identity of the remains, they were given back to their families for the private funerals.

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

Archive 08341376: Case Broken Statue (July 15th, 2016). First interrogation since the rescue. 10 minutes.

▶️ ------------------------- 0:00/10:05

"Are you the missing Captain Alicia Marchant?"

"Affirmative"

"Are you the former officer in command of Task Force 267?"

"Affirmative"

"Who were your people?"

"Lieutenant Richard Porter, callsign Blade. Sergeant Leo Jameson, callsign Tiger. Sergeant Kate Petrova, callsign Hope. Corporal Sean Walker, callsign Marble. Private Arthur Greenhill, callsign Lotus. And Private Jason King, callsign...Runner"

"Right. You doubted in the last one, Captain"

"Wouldn't you doubt if you feel guilt?"

"Guilt?"

"We said nothing about this Command, they all died because of it. It should have been me"

"The recon team said you eliminated every person inside that place, including Carabalí"

"...I did"

"How did you do that?"

"..."

"I need a verbal answer, Captain"

"The way I did it, it doesn't matter. What matters is the fact that Anwar Carabalí is dead and you have the nuclear cache coordinates"

"You know about the cache?"

"He was frustrated because of the raid in Lebanon, the reason was just simple logic"

"Why didn't he kill you?"

"I have no idea, but it was his mistake"

"You brought your team's tags with you"

"They deserved to be near their family, not inside that hell"

"What about yours?"

"Guardian ceased to exist the moment I was in that room. She'll never come back to the surface"

"And who are you now?"

"Difficult to say yet"

"How did you fight with the wounds you had? The medical record shows you were seriously injured"

"I...rather not to think about it"

"You seem surprisingly calm"

"..."

"Captain?"

"Just because I don't scream, hit and cry, it doesn't mean I'm not in grief or boiling with anger, son. Look me in the eye and tell me. Am I Calm?"

"W-what they did to you?"

"Many things. It isn't something you want in tape"

"I see, did you find any other information?"

"Not that I'm aware of, it wasn't really my priority at the moment"

"Alright, I guess we ended h..."

"The other leaders, what about them? I just get rid of one"

"...Dead"

"Good to know"

"What would you have done if they were alive?"

"I think the answer is pretty much obvious"

"Again, I need the answer"

"I would have took care of them myself"

"...We ended here"

End of the recording.

Note (2018): Six leaders and Carabalí. If she got rid of one, where and how the other five died? Is there any proof?

Note 2 (2018): They didn't. For some reason they let them live. Well, not for much, not when Alicia learn about this.

Archive 08341377: Case Broken Statue (July 16th, 2016). Recon Team member interrogation. 6 minutes.

▶️ ------------------- 0:00/06:30

"Are you Private Mark Bauer?"

"Yes sir"

"Team?"

"SEAL 7, sir"

"What was your role during the rescue?"

"I was the escort in case there were survivors"

"You were the first one who saw what happened inside, weren't you?"

"...Yes sir"

"Private, what can you tell me about the state you found Captain Marchant?"

"It isn't something I want to see ever again"

"Elaborate"

"I heard before about the Captain, but I never expected she was so...brutal"

"Brutal?"

"She emerged covered in blood head to toes, and we still not sure if it was hers or not. Honestly, I don't understand how she was awake and walking with the kind of wounds she had"

"What do you think about it? It was hers or not?"

"Considering what she had in her hands? I'm inclined to think it wasn't"

"What she had in her hands?"

"A head. Carabalí's head to be specific. And a box, not that I'm aware what was inside nor I want to know."

"The head?"

"Yes sir. I'm sure it was, and later on we found the rest of the body inside an office"

"Alright, something else you can remember?"

"Her expression"

"Explain"

"Whatever that place made to her...she's not stable, I would be terrified if someone touches something of hers. Her eyes didn't have any trace of mercy or sanity. I'm sure she would have killed us if we did a wrong movement"

"We ended here"

End of the recording

Note (2016): A further psychiatric evaluation is required before even consider let Capt. Marchant be back to her duties.

Note (2018): The results were decent and she was approved to go back a year ago. However, she'll be required to see a psychiatrist every six months. I. Don't. Want. Incidents.

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

Medical record: Captain Alicia Marchant, patient 8-07

Sharp wounds: Arms, legs and torso

Cuts to the hipodermis: Face, back and legs

1st grade burns: Breasts and abdomen (partially healed)

2nd grade burns: Forearms (INFECTED) (Antibiotics were prescribed to control the infection)

3rd grade burns: Neck (There was minimal damage to the blood vessels, muscles and nerves) (Estimated recovery time: Six weeks to eight weeks)

Fractured bones: Fourth, seventh and tenth ribs, left fibula

Cracked bones: Right humerus, left radius

It might be needed run some test to discard any kind of infection due to the contact between blood and the wounds. Rehab is mandatory to recover the correct movility on legs and arms after the bone fuse back. The psychiatric treatment must be regular (if not daily) until the permission to go back to duty, and even after, it'll be sporadic.

Note (2018): There are days when I don't understand how Alicia is alive. I hope Blackwell can keep her alive and out of the hospital.

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

Information obtained

Coordinates (nuclear cache): Islas Turneffe, Belice. 17°28'27.4"N 87°48'50.6"W

Fire power: Three hundred and five kilotons, divided in eight bombs.

Objectives:

Houston, US.

Rio de Janeiro, Brasil.

Frankfurt, Germany.

Lyon, France.

Osaka, Japan.

Yakarta, Indonesia.

Bagdad, Irak.

Venice, Italy.

Medellín, Colombia.

Note (2016): We expected that, due to Carabalí's hate for America, there would be more of our cities in the list. It's a relieve this isn't the case.

Note (2018): Two years ago my superiors conducted an investigation to find the reasons of selecting this cities. I can understand why cities like Yakarta and Bagdad, capital cities, and Osaka, Rio and Medellín, big cities important for the country economy, were selected. I'll have to look for the archives and files with the investigation results, maybe I'm missing something about it.

Causalities: Nine soldiers and thirty four members of Carabalí's web.

Three soldiers from Team 8, Rangers. (Cause of death: Intoxication with clorhidric gas and sharpnel wounds)

Six soldiers from TF 267, Raiders. (Cause of death: Undetermined)

Note (2016): We might ask Captain Marchant about it. She might have the correct answer about it.

Note (2018): They actually tried to ask her just days after the rescue. I guess they are lucky to keep their heads and limbs. Now part of my superiors are kind of scared of her.

Twenty two members of Carabalí's web dead in Lebanon. (Cause of death: Bullet wounds and blood loss)

Twelve members of Carabalí's web dead in Angola. (Cause of death: Slit throats, blood loss, crushed traqueas, broken necks and one with bullet wounds)

Note (2016): To whoever read this. DON'T ASK ABOUT IT.

Note (2018): I just went to talk to my superiors about this. I'm pretty sure at least two of them flinched when I asked about the time they "talked" with Alicia. They are terrified. This will be an amazing anecdote to tell the team.

Objective: Anwar Carabalí (KIA)

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

[angelique-diabolique]

Something tangible you can do to help Sudan aside from donating money:

We need your help to map floods in the Sudan -- check out this newly launched project: Sudan Road Access: Logistics Cluster

The Zooniverse's Planetary Response Network is partnering with Logistics Cluster, which is part of the cluster system established by the UN's Inter Agency Standing Commitee. Logistics Cluster is helping to coordinate humanitarian aid work in Sudan, and one of the biggest barriers they face is flooding during about half the year. Sudan is criss-crossed by dry riverbeds that are not yet well mapped, and during the rainy season they intermittently and unpredictably flood the network of roads used by humanitarian organizations to deliver key supplies and aid across remote regions.

Our first task is to complete the map of road-riverbed crossings over the large area of interest for humanitarian aid in Sudan. Once we have a full map of all the potential flood sites, we will know where to focus our monitoring efforts during the rainy season, which is just starting. Sudan is big, so we need your help to find dry riverbeds (called "wadis") along roads and measure the size of the crossings.

Join the effort today at https://www.zooniverse.org/projects/alicemead/sudan-road-access-logistics-cluster/

[markoferko]

barátom szép esszéje egy emberről, aki felnőtt Nebraskában, majd deportálták Dél-Szudánba, a helyre, amiről semmit sem tud és soha sem járt

benne van a közös, társadalmi munkánk is: szakértői véleményeket adni amerikai és európai bíróságoknak, hogy az eljárás a deportált kínzásához, katonaként besorozásához és valószínűleg halálához vezet. furcsa munka, de általában nincs nehéz dolgunk. Jock - a cikk főszereplője - sosem jutott ügyvédhez.

I began writing what are known as “country of origin expert reports” for South Sudanese immigration cases in America. If a South Sudanese immigrant, applying for asylum or threatened with deportation, is lucky enough to get a lawyer, itself no easy task, and that lawyer is not totally overworked, then they can reach out to a small group of subject-matter experts, such as myself, who can write reports on the likely consequences of their clients being deported.

As my caseload surged, I noticed all my clients had a similar story. They were the children of refugees who had fled the Sudanese civil war and found their way to America.

When I agree to write a report for an immigrant, I am often given their A-file, or Alien-File. It’s the life of a human being, seen from the perspective of the state—not what they did but the decisions made about them. Psychiatric evaluations vie for space with court proceedings. Errors compound. In one of my client’s files, it was sometimes stated that he was born in Khartoum—Sudan’s capital—and sometimes in Juba. Transcription errors, made by a bored clerk in Iowa, render Khartoum as Cartum, and sometimes as Cartom. These are the sorts of administrative mistakes that can determine a life. In one case I worked on, bureaucrats rendered my client’s name differently on different documents, which led the government to claim that he was trying to fraudulently take on multiple identities.

[the-saurian-specimen]

Rack Systems Are Not The Best For Your Ball Python

Ok, lets be honest. We all know why rack systems or tubs are popular. They’re cheap, they’re pretty dang easy to clean, and if you’re anything like me you were told that ball pythons thrive in the confinement of this types of system. After all, wild ball pythons spend all their time cooped up inside of abandoned termite mounds, right? They feel safer in more confined spaces, right? Well, not exactly. According to some information I found on the Conservation Society of California’s website and some other websites (that I will link) not only are BP’s very capable climbers despite being a non-arboreal species, but they really only stay in termite mounds of this nature during the day while they sleep if at all. Termite mounds are great places for reptiles because they keep fairly warm and several other species of reptile use the same technique for nesting and sleeping. None of these reptile (which include monitors, rock pythons skink and cobra by the way) are forced into tiny living quarters due to the habits of their wild counterparts, so why is this the case for ball pythons? Yes, pythons enjoy having spaces where they can curl up and hide, but that’s what tank furniture inside of an enclosure is for, not the enclosure itself. Your snake’s cage is almost its entire world, shouldn't they at least be afforded the space to stretch their entire body out?

Also, these snakes are inquisitive and intelligent. This is pretty common knowledge and what makes them so popular in the pet trade. Anyone who’s been keeping snakes for awhile could tell you about the differences in behavior when a snake is introduced to a space that it can really stretch out in for the first time, I know I could tell you all about it, given my own experience with my ball python. I will admit that in the beginning of my snake keeping journey, I was also led to believe that these snakes required very little space, but seeing my girl roaming the new enclosure I bought for her after a couple years of keeping her really changed my perspective. She’s more active now, uses her little face as a spade to dig around in substrate occasionally, and has long since stopped doing that “glass surfing” behavior she used to. My personal anecdote isn't even the end of the story. There are studies that can be easily accessed that discuss the natural behaviors being demonstrated in a well furnished terrarium that are more rarely displayed in a tub or rack. Abnormal behaviors that could indicate boredom or motivational frustration are exhibited almost exclusively when the BP is housed in a rack system. Not to say that there aren’t exceptions, but as a general rule, it seems that rack or tub systems does not allow this animal that we are tasked with keeping to thrive.

The bottom line is that ball pythons (to the extent that any reptile is capable of) seem to be happier in a well furnished terrarium/vivarium compared to the rack system that is popular among breeders and pet stores. Your snake should be climbing, digging in basking as it would in the wild and most rack systems simply do not provide adequate means by which to indulge and such behaviors. Sure they might be cheaper, but that does not necessarily mean they facilitate the highest quality of life possible. This animal relies on us as keepers, and shouldn’t we strive to provide the best for our scaly buddies?

[neurodivergentcosmos]

Hello community—updated mutual aid post to reflect changes in support asks & my name change! I don’t have enough money for my monthly living expenses. I’ve been unemployed since late Nov & drag has been my only source of income b/c disability now impacts the jobs I’m able to work. I dislike asking for help for myself during multiple genocides going on & while so many BIPOC in my local communities struggle in the same way; please prioritize mutual aid from Palestine, Congo, Sudan, etc. and local BIPOC. I’m making this post & asking you to share b/c it’s become necessary for me to do so in order to survive while I get financial supports for my disabilities set up, which will take some time. I need support in:

1) Paying my halves of rent/utilities monthly!

2)Getting paid gig & contract work in addition to drag to sustain myself! Paid gig & contract work I’d love to do include: pet sitting, graphic design, social media page management, proofreading, data entry, & house tasks.

3)Booking me in shows!

For followers who knew me before 2021: do not contact my bio family, including parents, under any circumstances. I’ve been no contact w/ them for 2 years b/c it’s essential to my safety.

Alt Text: At top of graphic is the title “Mutual Aid: Disabled Trans Drag King Neuro Cosmos/Ezra Star.” In left-center of the flyer is a box with a description of Neuro/Ezra’s situation: “Drag has been my only source of income since Nov 2023 due to unemployment & disability. I need community care in paying for my monthly living costs as I get my supports together. I need support with:

1)Pay rent & utilities

2)Get paid gig & contract work to sustain myself

3)Perform in more shows”

At the very bottom right below that is a circle with the text of Neuro/Ezra’s payment info & monthly goal: “Venmo: NeuroCosmos Cashapp: $NeuroCosmos Goal: $930.” On the right side is a photo of Ezra, a white trans man holding in his arms a black & white goat at an outdoor Pride vendors market.