#transport latest breaking news

[indianfasttrack]

Maharashtra: सरकारी बस, ऑटो रिक्शा और टैक्सी के किराये में बढ़ोतरी, जरी किया सरकारी फरमान

महाराष्‍ट्र की देवेंद्र फडणवीस सरकार ने नए साल के मौके पर राज्य के लोगों को महंगाई वाला तोहफा देने की घोषणा की है, जिसकी वजह से आम लोगों की जेब ढीली होनी तय हो चुकी है। (Maharashtra Increase in fares of government buses, auto rickshaws and taxis, government order issued) इस्माईल शेखमुंबई- महाराष्ट्र सरकार ने चुनाव जीतते ही आम लोगों पर महंगाई का अतिरिक्त बोझ डालने का फैसला कर लिया है। सरकारी बसों…

[aibreakingnews1]

Massive UK Driving Licence Changes in 2025: | AI Breaking News Channel #...

[reasonsforhope]

"In Sacramento, California, an estimated 6,615 people are experiencing homelessness, a number that — while still heartbreakingly high — has declined 29% since 2023, according to the latest Point In Time counts. 

But a new project, which has been in the works since 2022, might bring that number down even lower.

A new 13-acre property purchased by Sacramento County will soon be home to the Watt Service Center and Safe Stay. 

The county broke ground on the mixed-use service center this week, which will provide shelter, emergency respite, safe parking, health services, and more to community members who are unsheltered — meaning they don’t have a place to safely sleep at night.

“We wanted to do something that is not only larger, but a large-scale campus to provide more than just the shelter,” Janna Haynes, of the county’s Department of Homeless Services and Housing, told KCRA3 News.

The Watt Service Center will have amenities to help meet the needs of anyone staying there, including bathrooms, showers, laundry, and food, as well as mental health, treatment, and employment services.

“You can also meet with your case manager, get behavior health services, look for a job, get rehousing services, a place for your dog,” Jaynes added. “It’s really everything you need, not only for your day-to-day life, but to hopefully end your homelessness.”

While the center is a costly offering, the city explained that it is ultimately less expensive than allowing the homelessness crisis to go unmitigated.

The land was purchased for $22 million and will cost an estimated $42 million to construct the center. According to ABC10 News it will be mostly funded by the American Rescue Plan Act.

While the center will have the capacity to host 225 beds in Safe Stay cabins, 50-person capacity in Safe Parking, and 75-person capacity for emergency/weather respite beds, it will serve countless others outside of the 350 total people it can house at any given time.

According to a press release from the county, “conservative estimates” have found that over the course of 15 years, the center will serve 18,000 people.

In 2017, the city found that the average cost for an “unsheltered individual” was about $45,000 a year, considering public systems like county jail, shelters, behavioral health, and more.

With the projected impact of the shelter, that cost lowers to less than $3,600 per person.

“If you break down the funding, it’s actually not that expensive,” Rich Desmond, county supervisor for District 3, told ABC10.

“It’s a heck of a lot cheaper than letting someone stay out in the community, unsheltered where they are extremely expensive in terms of the emergency response from fire, our emergency rooms, our law enforcement response.”

Providing what the county calls “wraparound services” not only brings down costs but truly helps people meet their basic needs.

“The really great thing about this site in particular, that we don't have at any other shelters, is the sheer size and the ability to really wrap everything people need,” Emily Halcon, director of the Department of Homeless Services and Housing with Sacramento County, told ABC10. 

One notable feature is the center’s Safe Parking spaces, which are the first of their kind in the city. People living in their cars will now have a safe place to park, monitored by security.

“We know a lot of people who are unsheltered actually are living out of their cars,” Desmond said, “maybe a family that’s barely hanging on but they still need that vital transportation to get their kids to school or get to work.”

This support is especially helpful for those who are newly homeless, Halcon added, building on the amenities provided in the county’s two other “safe stay” facilities. 

While Sacramento County just broke ground on the Watt Service Center, officials say they hope to begin moving people into the facility in January 2026.

“Our staff is putting in extra time and attention to this campus, ensuring that it houses everything we need to end homelessness for people,” Desmond said in a statement.

Once it’s up and running, Jaynes told KCRA3, they plan to onboard formerly unhoused community members as part of the staff at the facility.

“When you have a conversation with someone who understands where you’ve been, and you see the success they’re having now,” Jaynes said, “it really does give you hope something could be different.”

-via GoodGoodGood, January 24, 2025

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[beckyninja]

Dark Intentions

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Violence against those who do and don't deserve it

Description: Dark plots are uncovered in the aftermath of the Guilliman's fiancée's "death".

Did any of you really think I'd end Guilliman and the Reader's story like that?

This is the latest in my GuillimanxFemReader series. Check out the previous fics (and others) on my Masterlist.

She is gone.

Sirens blared. Voices shouted. 

She is gone.

“Their ships have disappeared from all scanners!” “Picking up a warp signature… they’re fleeing!” “Wait…missile launches!”

Gone.

“Report on missile trajectory!” “They’re not aimed at us, Lord.”

Gone.

“Holy Terra!”

New explosions lit the void as missiles riddled Captain Takahashi’s ship. The sleek, tapered vessel writhed as if in agony for a few moments before its spine shattered. Charred debris spun in all directions, bouncing off the Macragge’s Honor’s void shields.

Gone.

In the time between heartbeats. Between breaths. One moment warm and full of life. The next….

“My Lord Primarch!”

Guilliman looked upon the scowling visage of Cato Sicarius, only to see his expression morph into something else. Something pale and wide-eyed. The Captain of the Victrix Guard took a step back.

“Prepare to enter the Warp.”

His words? Yes, he felt his lips move, the vibration of his vocal chords.

“We pursue.”

Why could he not recognize his own voice?

“My Lord,” Cato struggled to maintain eye contact, “without a set destination-”

“More contacts, my lords!” The serf at the communications cogitator shouted. “I am picking up numerous small vessels. Life pods from the destroyed cruiser.”

Guilliman turned away. Back toward the void. He heard himself speak once more.

“Send transports to retrieve the survivors. One of them will show us the final approach to… her… home world. We will chase those who did this back to their very gates.”

Something flickered within the hollowed out shell of his soul. It grew into a howling conflagration, yet his voice remained colder than a Fenrisian winter.

“And they will know pain.”

***

Battle Brother Julian Tarchus fought to awaken. He felt as though he was drowning in the ocean he’d swam in as a boy, clawing toward the surface with all his might. Fragmented images raced through his mind.

Bent nearly double in the passenger compartment of the foreign transport… you seated next to him… your sympathetic smile….

A sudden thrum… another, identical ship appearing out of nowhere next to them… an impact…an explosion…curling himself around you….

The bitter taste of chemicals as gas filled the compartment.

“...metabolizing the sedative. Faster than anything I’ve ever seen!”

“Increase the dosage again.”

He forced his eyes open.

Bright, white lights nearly blinded him. He lay in what he could only describe as an Apothecarion of some kind. Screens flashed data. Unfamiliar medical equipment loomed above him. No candles. No holy shrines. 

Not an Imperial ship.

He tried to rise from his prone position, only to meet resistance.

“Doctor! He’s waking up!”

Tarchus turned his head to see a male baseline in a flimsy looking uniform of some kind, white as everything else seemed to be in this damned chamber. A cloth mask covered his lower face. Fear flickered in his wide eyes.

“I said increase the dosage, damn you!”

Turning his head the other way brought another male baseline into view. Slightly different uniform. Same mask.

He glared at the first male. “Useless! I’ll do it myself!”

He reached for a bag of clear liquid hanging to one side, syringe in hand.

Tarchus reacted first. He tore through whatever bound his wrists with contemptuous ease and lurched upward. The world spun. He felt his body breaking down whatever poisons they’d injected into him, but his reaction time still seemed pathetically slow.

The first baseline screamed and fled, dodging the Ultramarine’s grasp by millimeters as he scrambled through a door on the opposite side of the chamber.

“Warp…damn it….” Tarchus rasped through a bone-dry throat.

“We have an emergency!” The Ultramarine turned to see the second baseline babbling into some kind of vox-caster set into the white wall. “Subject has awakened and appears hostile! Send armed aid to Surgical Room-” His voice turned to a gurgle as Tarchus’s fingers wrapped around his throat. 

The warrior lifted the writhing baseline off his feet, watching the man’s face begin to purple. Only then did he realize they’d stripped him of his armor and body suit.

He stood in the white room in nothing but his loincloth.

Rage tightened his grip on the struggling chirurgeon, for so the baseline must be.

“Where…is…the…Lady?”

Lord Guilliman had given him a sacred task: protect his betrothed at all costs. It was a task Tarchus had volunteered for, even against the disapproval of Captain Sicarius. Their Genefather saw value in you. 

You who looked at him with neither fear nor slavish subservience.

You who went out of your way to converse with him.

You who he found himself liking.

You belonged to the Chapter now. He would not fail you.

The baseline’s eyes rolled back in his sockets. Tarchus huffed and dropped him to the tiled floor. The man gasped. The Ultramarine smelled the sour stench of fresh urine.

“I…will not…ask again.”

“Sh-sh-she is-”

The door burst open. Tarchus grunted as what felt like a half dozen projectiles slammed into his back. He spun towards the intruders.

Theoretical: Charge is missing. Probability suggests you remain somewhere in this locale. Crew has proven hostile. Armor and weapons unavailable.

Practical: Attain armor and weapons. Search locale. Permanently remove obstructions. Not necessarily in that order.

He charged the armed baselines in the doorway. 

More projectiles peppered his  upper chest. To their credit, the soldiers in strange, carapace-like armor held their ground… for the first few seconds. 

He crushed a helmeted head in one fist. With the other hand he backhanded a soldier, sending him flying into the wall. A kick dispatched another with a wet crunch. Blood spattered. The thrill of battle lit within his veins.

Then the enemy broke and ran.

Tarchus found himself in a broad corridor of shining metal. When he straightened, the top of his head brushed the grated ceiling. Alarms blared and red lights flashed.

Well, it is not as if I was trying for stealth.

A grim humor twisted his lips as he strode forward. He considered going back to question the chirurgeon again, then decided against it. If these humans held you captive, he could not afford to waste a second.

Signs dotted the doors and walls he passed. He scowled, wishing he’d thought to learn to read your language as well as speak it. Nothing to do but press forward. Glancing through the few open doors revealed more medical equipment and tables. 

Still in whatever passes for the Apothecarion, then.

The sheer amount of artificial illumination disoriented him. He found himself longing for the dim corridors and flickering candlelight of an Imperial warship.

Am I even on a voidship? How long was I unconscious?

He pushed such questions from his mind.

Shouts and the pounding of boots on metal sounded ahead. He frowned. The projectile weapons the first soldiers had used did little against his toughened skin. But his enemies knew that now, and doubtless would utilize more destructive arms.

Without his armor he remained at a disadvantage.

I should proceed with caution.

A sharp cry from around the approaching corner electrified every nerve in his body. He knew that voice.

Caution be damned!

He bellowed and charged. “For the Emperor!” 

The pair of soldiers setting up what looked to be a heavy lasgun had no time to even cry out before he was upon them. Wiping blood and brain matter from his eyes, he lifted the weapon. Not a lazgun, but he could see no projectiles either.

No matter. As long as it deals death and ruin.

Just ahead, more soldiers crouched behind a makeshift barricade of crates and tables. One hefted a long tube to his shoulder and pointed it in his direction. Tarchus pulled his weapon’s trigger and the white beam it produced reduced the soldier to a charred husk.

The Ultramarine grinned.

“Tarchus!”

He shifted his attention to a knot of figures further behind the barricade. There was a short struggle, and a disheveled female pushed forward.

You.

“Praise the Emperor.” He rasped, feeling a great weight lift from his shoulders.

His relief turned to white hot rage as another figure stretched out a hand and caught you by your hair. The tall baseline male yanked you back against him, pressing a pistol to your throat.

Tarchus growled.

“Drop the cannon, brute. Or watch me paint the walls with her blood.”

For an instant, the Ultramarine hesitated. A mistake that cost him dearly.

Weight like a Land Raider dropped upon his shoulders. It drove him to his knees, the breath forced from all three lungs. He heard you scream and fought to rise...

…to no avail. 

Whatever trap they’d laid held him pinned to the floor like an insect beneath a boot. He squeezed the weapon’s trigger once more, bisecting the first two soldiers who dared approach, before feeling it yanked from his weakening grasp.

He tried to curse his enemy, to make any noise at all, only to find he lacked the breath to do so. Craning his neck, his eyes met your horrified gaze.

Forgive me.

A half hysterical laugh. “Well, well, dear cousin! It seems the famed Space Marines aren’t so invincible after all! Kill him.”

The approach of boots. A cold muzzle against his temple.

Not like this. Emperor, not like this!

“Wait!” You screamed.

Your captor’s voice sank into a vicious hiss. “Are you fond of your betrothed’s attack dog, my dear? Would you have him live?”

Tarchus thrashed with all that remained of his fading strength. “No…,my Lady, do not….”

Your next words drowned him in shame. “Don’t kill him, Victor. I’ll do whatever you want. But please don’t kill him!”

No.

“It’s a deal then.” Victor’s triumphant laugh rang throughout the corridor. “As long as you cooperate, the beast lives. Sergeant? If you would?”

The muzzle lifted from his temple. Tarchus heard the crackle of electricity. Then white hot pain lanced through his skull, driving him back down into darkness.

It paled in comparison to the agony of failure.

***

Victor’s fingers dug into your arm as he dragged you through the bowels of his ship. You felt his nails break skin, adding to the innumerable cuts and bruises covering your body. You ached.

Part of you still prayed this was all a nightmare. That you’d awaken in your bed aboard The Macragge’s Honor, soon to bask in the warmth of blue eyes again.

Oh Light! Roboute! 

He thought you dead. You knew it with absolute certainty. Tears filled your eyes as you imagined his anguish.

“Crying again?” Your cousin snorted. “How very unattractive.”

In an instant, your grief turned to fury. “You bastard!”

He laughed. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

The mercenaries escorting the two of you snickered. Your face burned.

“I hate you.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Careful now. You know what happens if you try me.”

Tarchus….

He’d fought so hard to save you. How your heart had leapt when he’d come charging around that corner, bellowing his battle cry! How it had bled when he lay helpless under tons of scrap metal.

The look in his eyes when you surrendered your dignity to save him.

Even if he survives, he’ll never forgive me.

“Where did your animals take him?”

The mercenaries stopped snickering and glared. You lifted your chin and glared straight back.

Victor didn’t spare you a glance. “The Predator’s brig is extensive, cousin. I had it expanded just recently.” He giggled. “And he won’t be lonely.”

“What have you done?”

“In a moment, fair cousin.” He jerked to a halt, pushing you roughly against a wall. “Ah! Here we are!”

A few punches of a key code and a door slid open. You were dragged into a room that could have belonged to your family’s most luxurious manor house. Plush carpets covered the floor, except for the gilded tiles beneath a bubbling fountain. Heavy, cushioned furniture of rare wood furnished the chamber: chairs, a table laden with flowers and delicacies, and a massive, four-poster bed.

“Impressive, no? I had it designed as an exact copy of my bedchamber in the Palace.” He shoved you toward a chair. “Sit. Relax.”

You gazed up at him.

“Speechless?” He grinned, the scar on his cheek gleaming scarlet, and turned to his guards. “Out.”

The older of the two hesitated. “Any orders for the Captain, my Prince?”

Victor sighed. “The same as they were the last time he asked. Make straight for TerraNova with all speed.”

“And…if we’re followed?”

“By who? The Barbarian King thinks she’s dead.” He jerked a thumb in your direction. “Investment gone. He’ll cut his losses and move on. And even if he does try to follow,” Victor grinned, “without the good Captain to guide him through the Wards, he could spend centuries wandering the void and never find our system.”

You leapt to your feet. “What have you done to Captain Takahashi?”

“Oh, I sent a dozen or so nukes into her cruiser as we entered the Warp. Had to make sure, you know.”

Horror. Fury. You threw yourself at him with a scream.

He caught your flailing hands and laughed. “Temper, temper, cousin. That little outburst will cost your beast an eye.”

You froze. “No, Victor-”

“See to it, Sergeant.”

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry!”

He only laughed again, catching you against his chest as the mercenaries left the room. You sagged against him.

Tarchus, forgive me.

Helplessness. You remembered this feeling. You swore you’d never feel it again. What a fool you’d been.

Victor’s hands ran up and down your back. “There we go. Isn’t it easier when you stop fighting?”

He pushed, and you collapsed back into the chair, staring at nothing. Numb.

Your cousin crouched before you. “And here I was worried you’d grown a spine. Happy to see I was wrong.” He grasped your chin, tilting it back and forth. “Pretty enough. Though I still can’t see why a so-called demi-god would want you.”

Roboute.

He’d had such faith in you. Your eyes focused once more.

“I’ll ask again, Victor. What are you doing?”

He stood and sauntered over to the table, poking amongst the fruits and sweets. “I was supposed to make sure you were dead. That’s what Granny Dearest ordered. You dead, me the Heir, and she the ultimate power.”

“What about the coup?”

“Oh, it’s going wonderfully! Grandmother’s forces have trapped the Grand Council on the Eastern Continent. She’s been stocking the military with her supporters for decades now, you see. And those who wouldn’t fall in line?” He shoved a chocolate into his mouth. “Well, the asteroid mining camps always need more free labor.”

Decades. They’d been planning this for decades.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “And Conrad?”

“Disappeared. But who cares about him, anyway? Pitiful little intellectual.” He spat the word.

“Did my message even make it through?”

Victor shrugged. “And if it did? Who would react? The Council is fighting for their lives. The Military is ours.”

“The people-”

“Are a rabble of cowards, so used to being under Granny’s boot they couldn’t rise up even if they wanted to.”

You gritted your teeth. “The Church, then.”

Your cousin’s grin sent chills down your spine. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Grandmother began a purge of the Abbeys and Monasteries shortly after you left. Hotbeds of rebellion, those places.”

You felt as though he’d punched you in the stomach. 

The Abbey. The Holy Sisters. My home.

Rage boiled within you again, but this time, you held it back.

“Why do this, Victor? Grandmother is already Matriarch. What more could she want?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” He slouched against the table. “Ever since she usurped the Patriarch, our much revered Grandfather, Granny’s craved power like a twitcher craves stims. The Council, the Articles of Government, all these things stood in her way.”

You thought of the years you’d spent locked within the Palace. Alone. Isolated. While schemes were being hatched all around you.

If I’d been braver, stronger, could I have prevented this? How many lie dead because I was too stupid to-

No. You could not let regret paralyze you. Not now.

Your hand sought the ring Roboute had given you. Perhaps touching it would bring you some much needed strength.

By the Light! The ring!

You stared down at your bare hand.

“Looking for this?” Victor tossed something that glittered gold and blue up and down in his hand. “Pretty bauble. Did he give it to you?”

You clenched your hands into fists.

The beacon. How could I have forgotten?!

Victor’s hand closed around it. “I think I’ll hang onto it. Wouldn’t be right for my consort to wear jewelry gifted to her by another man.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Your consort.”

He stalked toward you. “I saved you, you know. Grandmother wanted you dead, but I defied her.” 

You pushed yourself back into the chair as he knelt before you, idly slipping Roboute’s ring into his uniform jacket. “When she defeats the Council’s forces, she’ll be weakened, cousin. Vulnerable. And then you and I and my fleet will swoop in and vanquish the tyrannical hag.”

His hands landed on your knees and slowly slid upward.

It took everything in you not to cringe. “And…we’ll rule together?”

“Of course.” His eyes burned. “The people already love you, their Princess in the Tower. They sing songs about you in the taverns. And I’m the War Hero who fought off a Tyranid invasion!” His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. “Who would stand against us?”

No one. Until it was too late.

Fighting back waves of revulsion, you leaned forward and ran your hands up his chest. How frail it felt compared to your betrothed’s! You watched your cousin’s face twist with lust.

Forgive me, Roboute.

You kissed Victor.

He snarled into your mouth, his teeth catching your lips and drawing blood. His hands dug into your hair. You felt yourself slammed backward, your head knocking against the chair’s hard frame. 

Your cousin took no care with your body. He pawed and tore, aggravating your bruises and cuts, without a thought for your pleasure. Nausea threatened to overwhelm you. You heard the fabric of your bodice rip.

“What the Void is this?!”

All of a sudden you were dragged from the chair and thrown to the floor. Victor stood above you, mad rage in his eyes. He jabbed a finger toward your shoulder.

The shoulder Roboute had sunk his teeth into on your last night together.

“You whore! You damned slut!” Victor’s boot met your ribs with a crack.

You folded in on yourself, arms wrapping about your head.

“You spread your legs for that… freak?!” Your cousin straddled you, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking your head back. “You think I’d let you rule beside me? A stupid little scrap of used flesh like you?”

He pressed his mouth close to your ear. “I don’t need a consort. I just need a working womb. Remember that, bitch.”

With a final curse, he slammed your head against the carpeted floor and stalked out of the room. You heard the door lock behind him.

For a long while you lay there, letting the pain ricochet around your body before finally fading into a dull throb. You knew how to take a beating. Light knew, you’d taken more than your fair share.

Your split lips stretched in a smile as you gazed down at the gold and sapphire ring in the palm of your hand.

Pray the Light has mercy on your soul, Victor. For he will not.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

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[yesihaveaobsession]

YOUR Book Boyfriend

Alastor x female reader

Summary: The reader (you) ask Alastor to be a personal book boyfriend.

A/N- honestly, he's been a book boyfriend this whole time. think about it. THOSE THAT GET IT GE IT. I hope this reaches the right audience :D

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I LOVE AND APPRECIATE EVERYONE OF Y'ALL MWAH 💋✨️🥹🫶

You were curled up in the corner of the couch in the hotel lobby, your nose buried in your latest romance novel, completely absorbed by the words on the page and letting them transport you to a whole new world. As your eyes flickered over a particular moment between the heroine and her love interest, a playful idea sparked in your mind. Alastor, who was lounging nearby in his plush chair with a newspaper held loosely in one hand, just so happened to be the perfect candidate for what you had in mind.

You glanced over the top of your book and watched him for a moment before speaking up. "Alastor?" you asked. He didn’t even look up from his newspaper, but you spotted a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, dear?"

You hesitated, feeling a bit silly saying it out loud, and your cheeks began to heat up just thinking about it. "You know… those things that book boyfriends do? The hand necklace, the… chin tilt, all that stuff." You didn’t even have to finish because that’s when Alastor finally lowered his newspaper. You could’ve sworn you had awakened a sleeping beast from the way his crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Oh? You’re requesting a bit of theatrics from me, my dear? You should know by now, I always aim to please."

The way he grinned at you made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a bad idea. Before you could even catch your breath, Alastor stood from his chair and crossed the room, stopping right in front of you, looking down with that signature smirk that always sent shivers down your spine.

"Come here," he said, pointing a finger down. Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, you set your book aside and stood up, finding yourself face-to-face with the Radio Demon himself—or rather, face-to-chest. Lord, he was tall. He gently guided you to the middle of the room to give you both more space, positioning you directly in front of him.

"Maybe this was a bad idea…" you laughed nervously, the sudden weight of his presence making your heart race. But Alastor, ever the playful one, simply leaned in closer, his hand moving to rest lightly on the small of your back, pulling you a little nearer. He had done enough research (thanks to Rosie) to know what a 'book boyfriend' would do. He often saw you reading, biting the tip of your thumb with a smile, and it intrigued him. Rosie wasn’t sure how to explain it at first, but eventually, he understood.

"Oh, no, no. It’s a wonderful idea," he said. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he brought his clawed hand up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek. Your breath hitched as he tilted your chin upward, his eyes locking with yours so intensely that it made your knees weak. He definitely knew what he was doing. Rosie had told him to be flirtier but to remain himself—and that’s exactly what he did.

"Like this, dear?" he asked with an innocent head tilt, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded, now completely flustered. You had read about this a hundred times in your books, but experiencing it firsthand, especially with Alastor, was a whole other story.

The Radio Demon let out a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. His hand slid from your lower back as he began to circle you, almost like a predator stalking its prey, his intense eyes never breaking contact with yours. You followed his movements, feeling that intoxicating mix of anticipation and nervous excitement building inside you.

He finally stopped behind you, and you could feel the warmth of his presence. A clawed hand gently rested on your shoulder as he bent down to whisper in your ear. "What was that you were saying about this being a bad idea?"

You found it hard to breathe, let alone respond. You let out a small wheeze. "I, um… I take it back," you said, letting out a nervous laugh. You stepped closer, so close you had to tilt your head back to look up at him. You prayed Charlie and the others wouldn’t walk in on this scene—it would definitely be taken out of context. With a teasing smile, Alastor used two long fingers to lift your chin.

"Does this fulfill your little 'book boyfriend' fantasy, my dear?" he asked, tilting his head. You couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing his hand, you spun around to face him fully, letting out a breath.

"Perhaps I should do this more often," he mused.

You let out a small, breathless laugh. "Maybe… but not too often. I don’t think my heart could take it."

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving you in a flustered state. Those who understand, understand.

[femsolid]

What if a rape was reported like terrorism?  "Good Evening. This is the 6 o'clock news. First, this breaking story. This week thousands of innocent women were brutally raped and abused all over the UK. Women who were just going about their day, going to work, looking after their children, exercising and sleeping in their beds - all targeted and attacked. The Prime Minister has given a statement today committing millions of pounds in resources to stop the abuse and murder of women at the hands of men and has convened an emergency meeting with top officials to understand what went wrong. She finished her speech by saying that women must be able to go about their daily lives without fear of violence and death. Women should not have to change the way they live to stay safe. The public and celebrities from all over the world shared their hurt and condolences on social media. The families are all receiving the very best support at this difficult time. We will be following this story all week, as more and more women are named as victims of rape and male violence - stay with us for live updates throughout the night."

And what if terrorism was reported like a rape?  (You could argue here, there wouldn't be a report. But for arguments sake, let's pretend the media actually does report rape...)

"Good evening. This is the six o'clock news and tonight we have a number of headlines including the return of Garden Force, the latest from Love Island, a report on terrorism, and we go live to the BAFTAs!

A new report on terrorism has shown that at least 3 people per week are being murdered by terrorists and thousands per year, possibly in the region of 700,000, are being attacked by terrorists. Experts have been commenting on the new report with many saying that terrorism is a lot better than it used to be and the stats are only going up because people feel more confident to report it to the police thanks to the brilliant work of police forces to raise awareness of terrorism. A new charity which specialises in terrorism prevention has given a list of terrorist-proofing strategies to vulnerable potential victims and research has been commissioned into exploring what vulnerabilities lead to people being attacked by terrorists. One expert explained that people can stay safe by rarely leaving their house, working from home, never using public transport, never going abroad, always wearing bullet proof vests and never going to large public events of any kind. Pro-terrorist groups have started a campaign called #NotAllTerrorists to put pressure on the anti-terrorist groups to stop talking about terrorism. And next up, Garden Force is set to return to our screens next year!"

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 1

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature (violence, slight gore, killing - typical Ezra 😌 — will be explicit in later chapters)

Summary: Two strangers meet.

a/n: New series alert! Man alive first chapters are hard, and so I am going to yeet this into the universe before looking at it anymore. I owe everything to @bageldaddy for educating me hardcore and for being so extremely kind and thorough, and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for her Ezra eyes and inspiration and to @familyvideostevie for her support and enthusiasm and notes. It took a VILLAGE to get through this one. Enjoy meeting our stranger. :)

--

You come to surrounded by unnatural stillness.

An absence felt in the air surrounding you, there is something about it that tugs at the foggy corners of your brain, beckoning you closer to the surface. You try to listen for anything beyond the ringing in your ears, and there is…something.

A beeping sound emerging through the fog, its incessant chirping grows clearer. You blink slowly, your limbs made of lead when you try to turn your head. Instead of trying to investigate, you let yourself slip slowly back into the lush darkness, closing your eyes.  

But the strangeness of the silence tugs at you, and the beeping gets louder. 

Splices of memory come through in sharp flashes: 

The deep, bone-shaking tremble of turbulence. 

The grating sound of tearing metal. 

Beeping - so much fucking beeping, every sensor in the transport pod going off - and the whole cabin jerking to the left, your body weight pushing against the fabric restraints, your dad’s voice raw with hoarseness as he screams orders at you and –

Oh shit. Your dad. 

Your eyes pop open, and you sit up - or rather, you try to, but every muscle resists. Battered and bruised, you fumble at your harness with clumsy, shaking fingers. Looking up as it finally clicks open, you’re about to leap from the chair when you freeze. 

He’s there next to you, unmoving. 

Dead. 

“Dad?” you whisper. 

You can see without even checking for a pulse that he’s gone. That’s the feeling that pulled you awake, the vibration of life gone from the air. The stillness weighs heavy in the small space, and the beeping gets shriller somehow, more noticeable in the utter silence. 

The pod shrinks to a claustrophobic dome, and your breathing starts to come fast. Harsh, rapid exhales out of your open mouth and then you’re vomiting, right onto the floor. A cold sweat breaks out under your thermals, and you swallow hard against more bile that threatens to come up. 

There is blood splattered on the dash, pooled around the buttons. A deep gash gouged across his temple, his left eye already swollen beyond recognition. You stare at the dark, pulpy wound that runs with blood and with a heave, lose the remaining contents of your stomach. 

To have hit his head like that, he must have unbuckled and tried to fix something mid-crash, but why? Why the fuck would he do that? He knew better than that. You try to think about the sequence of events, but there is only a blur. A foggy, black spot in your memory, hazy images obscured by panic. 

You remember pieces: watching Puggart Bench grow smaller as you ascended through the atmosphere. The vague details of your father’s latest scheme, along with promises that this would be your last job. The frustration you felt at those words – ones you’ve heard a million times. 

You remember rolling your eyes and slipping on your headphones, and then scolding you for not paying attention after he jabbed you in the shoulder to take them off, and then…this. Somehow this. Guilt settles deep in your gut. 

Keeping your dazed eyes glued to the floor, you ignore the blood and beeping and the dead fucking body. You crouch low in the safety of your chair, winding your grip around the harness strap as an anchor and you sit for a moment, trying to steady your breathing. 

You sit. 

And sit. 

–

“Think she’s got anything left?”

The words spread condensation across the lower half of his visor, and Ezra listens for an answer he already knows isn’t coming. 

He always asks anyway: a constant dangling bait, in hopes his partner will bite. 

He hasn’t yet. 

Ezra bends back over the rough dug pit, his fingers splaying through the loose dirt. Anything worth digging for is sealed in his case already, but he stalls, thinking. 

He had watched the pod streak across the sky; the sight not unusual on the Green. Mercs and prospectors landed here every day to try their luck on the uninhabitable planet, but the speed in which the pod broke through the sky was unusual. Ezra could tell it was going too fast, even from the ground. His dark eyes had tracked the potential opportunity’s descent from behind the shield of his visor, and when the ground shuddered with the impact, he felt it through his gloves. 

If it had landed safety, protocol would be to keep his distance – no use needlessly engaging in a potential threat. However, he doubted that was the case after watching it fall to the earth like a stone. If he had to guess, the occupants were probably dead, and therefore, in his favor. 

His old pod flashes through his mind; nonfunctional and by now, probably stripped bare. If he doesn’t get there quickly to stake his claim, this one could fall to the same fate. It didn’t look sizeable by any stretch of the imagination, but he doesn’t need big. 

He just needs enough to fit one man, and his case. 

Ezra keeps his voice light and conversational. 

“Did you feel that?”

He looks up at his silent partner, and is met with a blank stare. Or at least Ezra assumes it’s a blank stare, with the man’s visor blackened. He can’t see his face, and has never been able to. He’s had many offers of partnership while on the Green - some out of desperation, some through coercion, some forced upon him – and though his current partner is one of the latter, he had been secretly pleased at the sheer size of him. Brute strength a valuable commodity; the hulking man is more of a utility than a partner. 

“Think it’s worthy of our time to investigate, or do you suppose there won’t be much left after a landing like that? If you want, I can go it alone?”

Met with more silence, both from his partner and from the unforgiving atmosphere of the Green, Ezra grimaces with annoyance when his partner starts to walk in the direction of the site without him. 

“Hang on now. We approach together.” Climbing out of the pit, the loose soil slips under his boots. He scrambles up as quickly as he can, unwilling to see his chance at the remains slip through his dirt-crusted fingers. 

“Now then,” he breathes heavily. “I think it would be befitting of us to use caution in our approach. The passengers may still be alive, and feeling panicked enough to pose a risk. I think –”

The hulk appears to listen to half of what Ezra says, and then turns abruptly mid-sentence, walking away. 

Snatching up his case, Ezra switches off the comm link in his helmet and his expression falls from tactful to annoyance. His eyes narrow on the man’s broad back, his fingers itching for his thrower. 

Grumbling, he follows. 

“Fucking idiot.”

–

You’re going to have to touch it. 

You wonder what it will feel like – stiff with rigor? Still pliant with traces of warmth? Heavy and impossible to move?

In all the ways you imagined you’d probably find your father dead, you somehow hadn’t thought about the logistics of actually moving his body. You imagined someone else would be the one responsible for it. Medical staff, most likely, who were used to the clammy skin and the stiff weight of death. 

Not you. 

Yet another thing you’ll have to do unwillingly for him. 

The reason you’re on this godforsaken planet in the first place, he’d forced you along to help him pay a debt owed for those fucking drops he relied on to get through his days. Days that bled into nights spent waiting for him, more his parent than his child. A freefall into the nomad life since your mother died, you’d been trailing behind him for years - an afterthought, only remembered when he needed something. 

A reluctant digging partner when he forced you to be, but also a navigator, a cook, a laundress, a caretaker. You were a lot of things to him, but never the one you wanted to be the most. 

Never a daughter. 

Your eyes slowly scan the disarray of the cabin, taking in the damage. For all the things he asked you to do, he had kept you in the dark when it came to any actual useful skills that might help you in this situation. Prospecting, digging, self-defense – anything that would have afforded you a glimpse at the possibility of independence – all of those were kept from your reach. 

Never a mechanic either, unfortunately for you. How the fuck you’re going to fix this thing, you have no idea. The manuals for it were tucked away somewhere, but they required at least a basic understanding, and you have barely that. 

You could stick with the harvesting plan he had vaguely outlined to you on the way here (assuming you could even find the gems, let alone dig them up), try to come back and fix your pod during the evenings (assuming you could even figure it out) and then try to catch the next slingback home (assuming you could even get off this planet). 

Your other option would be…none. There are no other options. 

The entire situation expands into something overwhelming, each step far outside your base of knowledge and your breathing starts to come fast again. You scold yourself, willing it to slow. 

Panicking again isn’t going to help shit. 

Wrestling with your emotions, you take a deep inhale and close your eyes, focusing on the first step. 

Before anything else, you have to move him. 

–

Through the edges of lush greenery, a pod. 

Ezra tries to tamp down his excitement, kicking his senses into high alert to scan for whomever it belongs to - but there is nothing. 

Fucking silence, the bane of his existence. 

Though in this case, a good sign. 

His own pod taken from him months ago in a standoff between himself and his former crew, this off-white piece of rubbish appears as treasure to him. It’s banged up for sure: one of the engines loose from the frame and the metal surrounding the bottom crumpled from hard impact. Unlikely that anyone survived the crash, anticipation thrums through him at the harvest in front of him. 

Keeping his expression measured, he beckons his partner to approach with him, silently advising caution. 

The idiot doesn’t though. Instead, he stomps forward and punches at the hatch button with force. 

Ezra frowns deeply, anger slipping into his tone. “Hey,” he reprimands sharply. 

The man pays Ezra no mind as the ramp slowly opens. 

–

One hand extended towards your dad’s shoulder, it hangs hesitantly in the air for a moment. Inching forward, you try to summon every ounce of bravery that you have and just when it’s about to touch— 

A loud thump sounds outside the pod, and your hand jerks back. Crouching low along the side of the pod, you crawl through the ship's scattered contents all over the floor and grab the thrower, trying to desperately wind a sufficient charge for a shot or two. The rummaging outside grows louder, and you crouch behind your chair, gripping the weapon in your sweat slick hands. Panic floods through your veins, the sharp stink of fear oozing from your pores as your body shivers with adrenaline, and you flex your hold on your weapon.

The door to the pod opens with a hiss, and two men emerge. 

One slighter than the other, which isn’t saying much—anyone would be slight compared to the size of the second man. You aren’t even sure how he managed to get into the pod, between the width of his body and his height. 

Rising swiftly, you point the weapon at them. 

“Stop,” you force out, trying to mask the tremble in your voice. 

The lithe man freezes, surprise showing on his face for a split second before disappearing. Tilting his helmet in thought, he speaks. 

“Now this is something I’ve never seen in all my time in the Green,” he muses with a drawl. “A little girl.” 

A statement, not a question, and you bristle while he continues to study you curiously. 

“Leave, or I’ll shoot.” 

Your finger flexes on the trigger, and he raises his hands in front of him. 

“Calm down, little bird. My partner and I merely ventured this way to see if all was okay after that crash we heard.” His eyes scan the cabin, a scattered mess. “Seems it was quite the landing.”

Shuffling your stance a fraction closer, you keep the thrower trained on them. “I’m fine. Now please. Go.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re fine.” He sounds completely unbothered, like you aren’t pointing a weapon directly at him. Taking a slow step forward, he peers around you. “Your partner sure doesn’t seem fine.”

“He’s not my partner. It’s my –” You freeze, scolding yourself for immediately volunteering information and his gaze drops down to your father’s lifeless form. The stranger's face sobers, and he looks back at you. 

His jaw shifting in thought, his partner seems to grow bored of the conversation and takes a heavy step forward, advancing on you. 

“Stop,” you try to order, panic creeping into the command, but he doesn’t. He keeps going, his large arm reaching towards your thrower. His massive grip choking the barrel, he rips it clean from your hands before you can even think about stopping him, and you crouch back behind your chair, trembling.

“My apologies for my partner, little one. He’s not keen on having weapons pointed at him. You can understand, I’m sure. Why don’t you come out from behind that chair and let’s talk. A deal, if you’re open to it.”

You don’t want to strike a deal with them. You know that any deal you attempt to broker on your behalf is going to be in their favor no matter what the conditions are. Your father never taught you the skills of negotiation – those were always done out of sight. Your mouth dries, sweat beading along your nape. What fucking deal could there even be to make that doesn’t end up with you dead? Or worse?

With so much happening in the last two hours, it’s hard to process anything, let alone a negotiation with deadly strangers on a hostile planet. How you handle this situation could be literally life or death for you, and you beg your brain to pick up pace. 

Please. Please. Come on, think.

Your mind still struggling but knowing you’re running out of time, you force yourself back up. 

“The deal was leave, and I won’t shoot.”

He only grins at that, and rage at the unfairness of it all flares bright through you.

“Besides, why should I believe anything you say? You’ll probably just kill me the first chance you get.”

“Why would you assume I intend harm?”

You don’t have anything to say to that, instead looking at his partner. Fear at his sheer size displays clearly on your face no matter how hard to try to mask it. “Why else would he steal my gun? Shoot me first before I can shoot, right?”

“If that was the case, he would have shot you already.” He lets a beat pass, his eyes narrowing in their focus on you. “Still could though, I guess.”

There is something behind the indifference in his voice, something in his eyes that begs you silently to listen to him — but then his partner raises his thrower, and several things happen at once.

You whimper, dunking behind the tattered chair. 

The smaller man whips his railgun from his hip, pulling the trigger.

You scream, and the bullet hits his partner square in the chest. 

The larger man stumbles forward as if to grab him but the smaller one shoots him again, the second shot landing in his gut. The force of the close shot pushes the larger man backwards, his heavy body slamming into the pod wall. 

He slumps down, collapsing into a lifeless heap.

There is a beat of weighted silence; your form frozen. 

The roguish man’s profile faces you: dark features partially obscured by the dome of his helmet, you can see closely shorn brown hair in matted disarray with a shock of white that smears just above his temple. Black eyes that glimmer in the fluorescent light, the edges lined with age. Tanned skin, a strong nose, plush lips under a mustache. 

He stares at his dead partner with something akin to satisfaction, and it turns your stomach to think of not only how quickly he resorted to violence, but also how much he seems to enjoy it. 

“Well would you look at that. Now we have two to move.” 

Still in shock, the violent scene in front of you startles you just as much as his nonchalance does. You watch as he turns to face you; a hooked scar marring the skin under his eye. 

“Now little one,” he says with seeming politeness. “You ready to hear that deal?”

[fatehbaz]

---

Native American tribes from Michigan, Wisconsin and Ontario have come together to call for an end to the Line 5 pipeline.

The Enbridge Line 5 crude oil pipeline, first constructed in 1953, stretches from Wisconsin through 645 miles of Michigan and ends in Sarnia, Ontario. Part of the pipeline travels underwater through the Straits of Mackinac.

In recent years, the pipeline's continued operation has become a source of controversy. Many tribal nations and communities claim that the pipeline goes through their traditional territories. The Straits area in particular is considered a place of significant cultural and historical importance to many native groups, including the Anishinaabe. According to tribal leaders, the pipeline poses a major and direct threat to the ecosystems along its path.

“The Straits of Mackinac are [...] sacred from both a cultural and historical perspective in the formation of the Anishinaabe people,” said Austin Lowes, chairperson of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians, in a statement. “Protecting the Straits is also a matter of the utmost environmental and economic importance — both to our people and the state of Michigan.”

Tribal leaders and other environmental groups have publicly opposed the pipeline for many years and have called for the pipeline to be shut down.

Supporters of the pipeline point out that it transports 540,000 barrels of light crude oil and natural gas liquids through Line 5 on a daily basis. [...]

In an effort to address safety concerns, Enbridge has proposed an underwater tunnel to house the portion of Line 5 that runs under the Straits of Mackinac. [...] Critics of the tunnel project say no oil should be transported through the Straits at all, as a spill could have a devastating impact on more than 700 miles of Great Lakes shoreline. [...]

Previous attempts to shut down the pipeline have been stopped through various means, mostly the 1977 Transit Pipeline Treaty between Canada and the United States.

The latest attempt saw 51 tribal organizations from Wisconsin, Michigan and Ontario submit a report to the United Nations Human Rights Council. This report, dated April 4, claims that the Government of Canada is violating the human rights of Indigenous peoples through its continuous support for Line 5.

The report was submitted to be considered during Canada's upcoming Universal Periodic Review, conducted by the United Nations. As a United Nations member state, Canada is required to be evaluated for its human rights record on a regular basis.

Canada's Universal Periodic Review will take place this year on Nov. 6-17.

The 51 different tribal organizations that signed the report include: The Anishinabek Nation, which represents 39 First Nations throughout the province of Ontario, Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians, Bad River Band of the Lake Superior Tribe of Chippewa Indians, Bay Mills Indian Community, Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa & Chippewa Indians, Hannahville Indian Community, Lac Vieux Desert Band of Lake Superior Chippewa Indians, Little River Band of Ottawa Indians, Little Traverse Bay Bands of Odawa Indians, Match-e-be-nash-she-wish Band of Pottawatomi Indians, Nottawaseppi Huron Band of Potawatomi, Saginaw Chippewa Indian Tribe and Red Cliff Band of Lake Superior Chippewa.

---

Headline and text by: Brendan Wiesner. “Michigan, Wisconsin and Canadian tribes come together to fight Line 5.” Yahoo! News. 8 April 2023. Article originally appeared on The Sault News with the title “Great Lakes tribes send report to United Nations to fight Line 5.” [Some paragraph breaks and contractions added by me.]

Context:

Line 3 brings oil from Alberta to Lake Superior. Then, Line 5 brings the fossil fuel from the Duluth area to the Detroit/Windsor area in Ontario.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lauren Aratani at The Guardian:

Kristi Noem secured US Senate confirmation as homeland security secretary on Saturday, putting the South Dakota governor in charge of a sprawling agency that is essential to national security and Donald Trump’s plans to clamp down on illegal immigration during his second presidency. The Senate worked on Saturday as Republicans successfully sought to install the latest member of Trump’s national security team. Defense secretary Pete Hegseth was confirmed in a dramatic tie-breaking vote by JD Vance Friday night, joining the secretary of state, Marco Rubio, and the CIA director, John Ratcliffe. The Senate is scheduled to next vote Monday evening on Scott Bessent’s confirmation as treasury secretary. Republicans unanimously voted to confirm Noem and got support from seven Democrats, including John Fetterman of Pennsylvania, Tim Kaine of Virginia, Andy Kim of New Jersey, Gary Peters of Michigan, Jeanne Shaheen of New Hampshire, Margaret Hassan of New Hampshire and Elissa Slotkin of Michigan. The final vote was 59-34. Democrats – or those caucusing with their party – who did not vote were Angus King of Maine, Jeff Merkley of Oregon, Brian Schatz of Hawaii, Tina Smith of Minnesota, Raphael Warnock of Georgia and Ron Wyden of Oregon, according to the New York Times.

[...] The homeland security secretary oversees US Customs and Border Protection, Immigration and Customs Enforcement and Citizenship and Immigration Services. Beyond those agencies, the department is also responsible for securing airline transportation, protecting dignitaries, responding to natural disasters and more. Noem, who held her state’s lone US House seat for eight years before becoming governor in 2019, has risen in the Republican party by tacking closely with Trump. At one point, she was even under consideration to be his running mate. Her political stock took a momentary dip, however, when she released a book last year containing an account of her killing her hunting dog, as well as a false claim that she once met with North Korean leader Kim Jong-un. Noem does not have any experience in law enforcement but has pledged to faithfully execute the president’s orders and copied his talk of an “invasion” at the US border with Mexico.

Where’s Major and Commander when you need them? Those two doggies should nibble all over the dog-killing South Dakota Governor.

Dog-killer Kristi Noem got confirmed 59-34 in the Senate to head up the DHS.

See Also:

AP, via HuffPost: Senate Confirms Kristi Noem As Trump's Homeland Security Secretary

[tparker48]

Request for Winnylose

Keven sat along the coffee table as he read the latest update to the company's new hiring policy. The higher ups were hosting a free apartment for employees to take up to make transportation less of a problem for their upstanding employees. It was a dream come true at first glance, at least that's what Keven thought when he set foot in the door. He traveled through the living room and observed the environment, wooled carpet brushing between his sandals before traversing the wooden floor of the dining room. It traversed through the hallways before transition to carpets for the closet and laundry room. The customs were pretty good to say the least. But he only rubbed for the real deal breaker, the bedrooms.

Two more doors rested at the end of the hall, darkness filling the bottom of them. What could be inside, a suite? A luxurious room? He pranced toward the left of him, opening it as if he won a grand prize. It was no bigger than a cubicle, a king sized bed blocking half the room.

"Okay, it's little, but I'm sure it'll manage." He said, rubbing his hands together. "Now what kind of bedroom do we have behind the door number too?" He wiggled his fingers, wrapping around the handle before pulling the door toward him.

A brick wall stood before, stacked to the very top as a breeze blew from its cracks.

Keven blinked at the sight. "A..bricked wall? But that can't be right.."

"Ay pops!" A voice came from the front door, a pair of legs carrying boxes. "Mind helping me out with all this stuff. I can barely navigate it."

"Oh, Eis. You didn't really have to-"

"This is a pretty big space. Roomy, where’s the bedrooms, I gotta freshen up for my hot date coming over."

He looked at the door to the brick room, easing it closed with his heel. "Oh, there's no need to rush, we can uh...look at it in a second."

"Look at it in the second, i don't have seconds, pops." He dropped the box at the entrance to the hallway, stretching his back. "Come on, I wanna see where I'm gonna put the candles."

Eis moved through the hallway, looking through the opened door. "Wooah, check it out, a whole king mattress. Now that's the stuff. Is this my room?"

"That's my room.."

"Well, where's mine? Is it in the one you're in? Let me see?" He took hold of the handle, pulling it as he peeked over the corner. But his father's heel stopped it.

"I don't think you'll like it..it's"

"Oo! Oo! Is it a studio? A dojo bedroom?"

"It's.." He took a break opening it to reveal the structure inside. "A bricked wall."

Eis's eyes widened, sinking to his knees. "A brick..wall? Are you kidding?!"

"N-now son, I know things may be not up to par, but we can use my bedroom to rest."

"My date comes tonight! There is nothing sexy about sharing a room with your dad!"

"Well.. I don't know what to do about that."

"Fix it!" Eis demanded, pointing a finger to the door. "Tell your boss that we are not taking this apartment!"

"Son, I can't just-"

"I refuse to live in a house with one bedroom!" He looked out the window, sun dipping past the other building. "I'm running out of time. I don't care what kind of room it is, but it better be something else than this!"

He stormed into the bathroom, leaving his father in the hallway as silence filled the room. He had a point, living in the same bed may be a bit awkward, laying in the same bedroom as your son, his colleagues would flip if they had a visit from the higher ups. With a heavy sigh, he flipped out his phone to talk to the department managers, stepping outside to make the call.

Pacing around the grass, he looked to the window of his apartment, his son fiery gaze staring back at him. "Come on..pick up."

As their holding music blared in his ear, it came to a stop before a voice spoke. "Hello?"

"Hey, this is Keven, one of the movers you assigned?"

"Aah Keven, what can I do you for?"

"Well we got a look at the place and it seems really nice, thank you by the way, but the bedrooms seemed a bit..bricked. I was hoping we could get another with a two bedroom?"

Keven keven," the voice flaunted "you know how hard it to find rooms accommodate to your likings. Many would be considered lucky to be in a position you're in."

"Yes sir, I know. But I have to have a room for my son, it wouldn't be fair to him."

"Hmm..tell you what, we've been working on a new project to make things more..spacious. Bring your son down, and we'll see what we can do."

"Yes sir! Thank you, sir!"

*********************************************

The two of them went into work to discuss terms for the upcoming arrangement, meeting in the lounge as he and Eis waited by the waiting desk. He glanced at his son, who lay slouched along his chair, his eyes glued to his smart phone as he typed a message. the boss will figure something out, everything will be just fine, at least he hoped so.

"Mr. Keven," the secretary at the desk said, the panel next to her opening to a metal room. "Mr. Allen will see you now."

He got up from his chair, tapping at his son's shoulder as the two of them entered through the doors. The space was scientific compared to his regular location, a glass window giving a view to the laboratories below. scientists messed with chemicals in their own cubicles, smoke resonated from those further in the room than others.

"What exactly are we doing here dad? Is this gonna take long, cause I got an hour before she arrives."

"For the last time, son, I don't know. We'll just have to see."

they walked through the hallway to a sliding door, air hissing from its gaps as it parted. it opened to another space, much larger than the hallway they came through. Scientists were everywhere, stationed by a machine that hung from the ceiling like a chandler. They walked through the middle of them as orbs floated around, leading to a man with a metal parrot along his shoulder. He turned around, a smile spreading across his face.

"Ah, there's my favorite worker." He extended a hand to Keven.

" A pleasure to be here sir, thank you for filling us in on such short notice."

"None at all, we were looking to see what things we could do. And who is this young man?"

Eis raised his gaze toward them, scoffing as he went back to his phone. "He is my son, he's..not very happy at the moment." Keven said. "I would love to talk a bit more with you, but we are short time. N-not to rush you or-"

"Of course, of course. then we must not delay .Come, I'll show you our project." he guided them through the room, signing a paper given to him by the researchers. "This is our dimension room, we're working on transporting hosts into a pocket inside another.

"You mean, like a pocket dimension?"

"Why yes, or something like that. Here we desire the fondest hospitality of our gracious employees. specifically to those with big families. running out of room? pocket dimension! wanna get away from the folks? pocket dimension!" he stopped at a chair below the machine, pressing at its controls as energy flowed through its wires. The machine released a deep hum, the red glowing wires following its way into its sockets.

"How does it work?"

"I'd be happy to show you, but first we have to get the waivers out the way. ladies.." he waved his hand as they took to Keven and his son's side, handing them paperwork along with a pen. The father and son looks at each other, jotting down their own information.

"Please sign here..and..here...thank you" one of the researchers said, the other taking the documents. They escorted Keven to the chair, strapping him in.

"Good, now that those are out the way. We can get started." Mr. Allen pressed at the machine, a panel opening from the nozzle of the machine to the ground level. "Nurses.." He signaled them with a hand, two taking to Keven side. One removed his. Belt buckle from his waist, the other taking to the zipper.

"H-hey! Don't touch-Ow! Easy!"

"They're really going to town." Eis snickered at his father's struggles, holding up his phone to record.

They yanked his pant's off, placing them along a tray as they slipped his underwear off. Rubber gloves touched at his balls, a set of hands sending a chill down his spine as it prodded at his cockhead. "I would very much not want my goods touched!"

"They're simply doing their job, Mr. keven." Allen said. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes sir, the contact area is ready for zapping."

"Good, then we shall proceed." He moved over to a console, pressing a butt as the nozzle loomed closer.

"Zapping?! You're gonna to zap me?!" He twisted at his wrists, paddling his feet to the nozzle slinking between his legs, the nurses restraining them.

"There's no room for regrets, the process is almost finished." Mr. Allen said.

Bolts zigzagged around the metal bulb of the machine, its center glowing with the red fuel from the wires. Its electric hum grew louder, the nurses pulling his legs wider apart. This is it, he's gonna die. Gazing at the nozzles glow, his life flashed before his eyes as it pumped toward his legs.

He squealed, shutting his eyes. "Goodbye world! Goodbye!" He shouted, awaiting for the sharp sting to embrace him. The cool air was all that met his body, the rubbery gloves lifting from his cock. He peeked an eye to the machine, the bulbs dimming before it lifted back to its core.

"The process is complete, congratulations, Mr. Keven. How do you feel?

He patted himself down, the tingling sensation turning into a faint ripple. "I..actually feel fine. Huh, that wasn't so bad."

"Good good, then let us show you the results. Young man, might I borrow you for a moment." He said, the nurses taking to his side.

They placed goggles on him, throwing a plastic raincoat before escorting him to the chair. Guiding him in front of him, he winced as he turned away. "Ugh, do I have to stand this close, All his junk is hanging out."

"Afraid so, is everything prepared nurses?"

They nodded. "Yes, all is ready."

"Good, throw him in."

The son blinked at the response, the nurses taking to his arm. He yanked his arms away from them, their hold as firm as glue as they brought him an inch away from Keven. Cocking him backwards, they chucked him forward, both father and son shielding their eyes.

There was a bright flash, blinding Keven as he squinted toward the sky. Unbeknownst of where his son landed. When the light dimmed, he faced forward to see only the nurses and Mr. Allen. However, His son was nowhere in sight. "Son? Where'd my son go?"

"Where the hell am I?!" His voice answered, softer than what it was before. Keven looked to between his legs for source, his gaze landing along his cock. At his balls, the left testicle jiggled, tugging outward as limbs padded at its surface like dough. "It's so sticky in here! Ugh, and it reeks."

Keven's face grew pale, his sight locked at the moving testicle. His son was in there? But that's impossible, it couldn't be. A pen clicked in front of him, Mr. Allen jotting at a clipboard.

"Marvelous, it truly works."

"What did you do to my son?!"

"Gave him a new room of course. You did say you needed a new structure, this way it uses less resources, and more space."

"I can't stay in here!" His son shouted, an imprint of his face gumming at the elastic walls. "I have a date waiting for me!"

"Don't worry, you'll be able to travel in and out of your room with ease. All it takes is a little unlocking" he motioned his hand with a few jerks. His speaker soon went off, placing it to his ear. "Ah, duty calls I'm afraid. Enjoy your new room young man, and you too Mr. Keven."

"Wait Mr. Allen I.." He paused as his boss' backside turned toward him, slumping his seat. "Good talk."

His testicle bounced, sagging over the chair. "Yo pops! What are you waiting for? You heard him, rub me out!"

"I can't do that at work, I'll be fined."

"The hell you can't, I'm not staying in here for another second. All this seed is already giving me a headache."

He grabbed his pants and placed them on the floor, putting his underwear to his waist and cupping his balls, it still felt weird knowing that he was in there. "I will try to get you out back home."

"Dad I swear if you-" he stashed his balls into his underwear, hoisting his pants to his legs as they tucked at his backside. He fidgeted as his testicles shook in place, his son swearing everything under the sun. He got stairs from the staff around, his anxiety filling as he got up from the chair.

He didn't bother to zip up, trotting out the sliding doors and out into the parking lot

*********************************************************************************************

That following evening, Keven waddled back to his apartment, wobbling up the metal staircase to his household along the corner. The squirming in his balls made his hands jitter, fumbling at the handle as he stepped inside. He sped to his bedroom, drawing them to his knees.

His balls shook like maracas, the left testicle thrashing about as he reached for a towel. "Keep still, I'm getting you out already!"

"Well hurry up! She'll be here any minute!"

a knock came on the door, the two of them freezing in place.

"Shit! She's here!" Keven's testicle swung. "I can't let her see me like this! Stall her!”

"Stall her?"

"She won’t talk to a nutsack, you owe me this much, pops"

He eyed his son, a deep sigh escaping from him. "Fine."

He moved out to the main hall, running water hitting the walls echoing from the bathroom door. It's been too long since he's talked a big game. He wondered if he still had the charm. The knocks grew more aggressive, the welcome home sign nearly knocking off its hinges. He opened the door to a woman standing outside, a fur coat wrapped around her shoulder.

"About time, I was thinking I was gonna have to call the paramedics to get this door open." she padded her hat, swishing her scarf fur to the side. “And who are you?”

"Hello there, I'm Keven and-"

"Sherlet la mein. If you would be so kind as to move your tubbied ass so I can get out of these heels."

She sounds delightful. "Oh..of course. Please." He stepped to the side as she marched inside, her feathered hat wisping at his nose. "Eis is still getting ready, please, take a seat."

she moved along the room in a slow stride, a finger at her chin as she eyed the furniture. "What tacky furniture, if it weren't such a high facility I’d mistake this for a barn."

He tugged at his tie, clearing his throat. "Could I uh..get you a drink? It's not everyday you see a fine lady such as-"

"Spare me the flatters, gramps, less you can fill this body with something meaty, I'll pass." she said. “This better not be a waste of my time, if Eis isn’t here in the next 30 seconds, I’m leaving.

A ruffling sensation lingered inside his pants, getting more vigorous as seconds went by. “Er..Excuse me for a moment, I’ll go fetch him for you..” he scampered into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. His fingers fumbled along the bedroom counter, grabbing a plastic cup and a towel as he raced into the bathroom. He placed them onto the floor, his palm leveling his cock’s length at the cup as its drizzle spilled into its opening.

"That's it, easy does it.." He shook his cock to pour more of his seed.

"This is taking too long, I'll do it myself."

"Hold on, I gotta ensure the mess doesn't get on the floor." a tiny lump came from the bouncing testicle, guiding its way through the base of the shaft as it traveled up his length. He grabbed the cup from the floor, holding its cock to catch the flowing seed. "Ok, that should catch it all."

He held onto his shaft as the lump entered the head. With a clench, it was expunged into the cup, its plastic cracked as more flowed. It exploded in his hands, a wave of seed splashing the entire bathroom with its spunk, his spawning in the center as he slid to the far wall. Keven looked at the busted cup near the sink in disbelief, and then back to his son.

"That was bigger than I expected.."

"Ugh, look at me, I look like a goo monster. Would it kill you to empty yourself in there?"

"I'm a busy man, you can't imagine how much seed I blow with the-"

"D-d-dah, I don't want to hear that crap. I gotta get ready, I don't know how much time I-"

"What the hell is taking so long?!"

Eis jumped to his feet, grabbing the seed covered towel to wipe himself off, he threw off his damp clothes, stripping to his underwear as he opened the door. He ushered his father to the front, sending signals as he crashed onto the bed. With a thumbs up, Keven opened the door to Sherlet waiting outside.

“Mrs. Sherlet, allow me to present you with your guest of honor.” he pulled the door wider, exposing more of the room.

He struck a pose along the bed, a rose caught between his teeth. “Good evening my queen, sorry to keep you ‘yearning’ for me for so long.”

She huffed, slipping her scar from her shoulders. “Finally, I was starting to think you got feet. Let’s hope that thing between your legs was worth the wait.” she kicked her to the corner of the door, her dress unraveling to reveal her smooth shoulder. 

“I’ll just be waiting out here, you two have-” one of her legs moved behind the back of the door, kicking it shut as its boom echoed through the hall. “Fun...”

**********************************************

The night had changed in the sky, the moon casting over the tree in the backyard as shadows decorated the apartment. Keven pushed at his glasses, reading the daily newspaper. But every so often, he looked toward the bedroom, bickering lingering behind the closed door before silence filled the void. They've been in there for a good hour, at least from what he could count.

He flipped the page, tracing a finger to the daily weather expected for next week. The bedroom door jiggled, drawing his attention as it swung open.

"Filthy pig!" Shelet cursed beneath her breath, he dress in hand as she passed through the hallway. Keven met her gaze, lifting his newspaper higher.

Eis stormed out from the bedroom door, wearing nothing but a towel as it sagged off his thigh. "No wait, come back! I swear it's only warming up. Just give me time to be ready."

"For what, an inch? Sorry sweety, but the only thing that’s touchin' this puss is a salami, not a wheeny dog." She picked up her shoes from the floor, leaving the wallowing son standing in the hallway.

Eis crumbled in on himself, his head sunk in defeat. "Damn it.."

That went well, Keven thought, closing the newspaper. He took to his feet and to Eis' side, caressing at his shoulder. "Don't worry about that one, I'm sure you get one-"

Not now, pops.." He muttered, a hand gliding to his father's pants. He unzipped them, drawing out his bulky cock beneath, pointing the tip toward him. When the glow from its slit illuminated, he plunged his nose inside, a signal for the rest of his body as he vanished between its lips, and into the left testicle that drooped lower than the other.

That one must've hurt bad, Keven couldn’t help to think. Cupping at his balls, he opened his mouth to talk, but paused. He's in his feels right now, he shouldn't pry to make things worse. Tucking his balls back in his underwear, he carried on as he made dinner for the night.

An hour passed since his date visited, and dinner was already set. Keven decided on ways to cheer his son up, whipping up his special queso with extra cheddar. It always cheered him up, even when he was struggling in college. But no matter how much he coaxed him to have a taste of its goodness, Eis didn't budge, his balls as still as a rock as they swayed around. Putting his player in the fridge, He went to the shower, smearing his gunk off the glass as prepared for sleep. Dosing his hair beneath the warm running water, a soft whimper met his ears as he looked at his balls. It was there that he saw the testicle move, the whimpers more audible.

Keven's heart ached at the sight, lending a hand beneath his scrotum. "Son?.."

"Not now, I said.. Im fine." Eis sniveled.

"Your not fine, I can hear you in there"

Silence filled between them, Keven looking at the testicle. A soft impress touched the fleshy wall. "I thought this was the one, the one I was going to date."

"Eis, there's plenty of women out there that would love to date you. It may seem like this one nailed a coffin, but there's many out there in the sea."

"You..you think so?"

"I know so. And if there's one thing you;re old man knows, Is that you'll find one. You're dashing, courageous.."

"And have a big schlong?"

Keven merely chuckled, rolling his eyes softly. "Yes, even that. Don't let one lady get the best of you." He said. The running water filled the silence in the shower, Keven’s gaze never leaving his balls. The occupied testicle started to jiggle, fingers nipping at the valve.

he moved his legs apart, pointing his cock into the water's trajectory. The small lump lifted from his testicle and into the base of his shaft, seed dripping from the slit once more as it clogged into the head. Pushed out, it grew in size as Eis stood from the milky pile, seed washing from his shoulders as it drained into the sink.

He looked toward his father, who had a soft smile on his face, tackling him as he hugged at his chest.

"Love you too." Keven said, caressing the top of his head. "Though I'd like to have a hug after I've showered."

**********************************************

Throughout the following week, Eis and his father worked on making the hospitality of the bedroom work. Having one was enough to justify the resting conditions, but Eis was still antsy on sharing the same bed. To assure a better time, he decided to keep his room inside his father’s balls, ordering inflatable furniture for him to take inside and decorate. The company only mentioned he'd be able to fit his son inside himself, but who would think that he'd be able to fit so much more.

It took some time to adjust after the last hook up he had, but he was already back to springing up another gal. Just like his old man did when he was younger, his younger self would fist bump him if he'd get the chance. But watching him prosper was good enough. He hooked up with another girl, but this time he wanted to try something new. Something he never thought of doing himself. He-

"More!" A shout came from down below, Keven resting his pen as he looked toward his crotch. His sack moved like an egg about to hatch, jumping an inch away from his testicle before the loose skin pulled it back. "More, push it in more."

"You want in you huh?" Eis' voice followed," I can do so much more with this length."

The testicled rolled between his thighs, faint taps rocking from side of the testicle to the other. Keven could only laugh, admiring the two's spiteful spirits. Young love, you never know where it might strike, he thought himself. He pulled out his newspaper, flipping to the last page he left off. He wondered how long they'd keep it up, an hour, maybe two? He wasn't quite sure. But one thing he did know was this one thing.

His son's happier now that he found them, and so long as he likes that, his balls can kick and sway all they like.

[reasonsforhope]

"It’s technically possible for the UK to achieve its goal of having a clean power system by 2030, and doing so should reduce electricity bills and bolster the country’s energy security, the grid operator says in a study commissioned by the new Labour government.

The context

The UK recently shut its last coal-fired power plant and aims to slash its use of gas turbines as it seeks to all but eliminate fossil fuels from its electricity mix by the end of the decade.

In 2023, renewables and nuclear accounted for 62% of the country’s electrical output, while fossil fuels held a 38% share. Under the 2030 clean power target, fossil fuels (gas) would be reduced to less than 5% of the mix.

The latest

“The analysis concludes that clean power is a huge challenge but is achievable for Great Britain by 2030,” the National Energy System Operator said in a statement as it published the study.

Overall system costs are unlikely to increase if the target is met, and tariffs could in fact decline as legacy power contracts expire and if the state makes sufficient progress on energy efficiency gains, flexibility mechanisms, improving grid connection processes, and overall policy modernisation.

Significant investments are required in a short amount of time, but they would allow the UK to become a “leader” in new technologies while also reducing the country’s exposure to potential energy price shocks stemming from spikes in international gas prices, as was the case after Russia invaded Ukraine.

NESO’s analysis shows that clean technologies — renewables and nuclear — will be able to produce at least as much power as Great Britain consumes in total in 2030...

“A clean power system for Great Britain will deliver a backbone of home-grown energy that breaks the link between volatile international gas prices; that is secure and affordably powers our homes and buildings; that decarbonises the transport that we take to school and work; that drives the businesses of today and catalyses the innovations of the future.”

Next steps: The government will now consider NESO’s advice as it develops its clean power action plan later this year."

-via The Progress Playbook, November 5, 2024

[enquire]

Gizmo Stardust!

Okay... it's Yamato's time to shine. I'm pretty happy with him! He was fun to draw and pretty easy to pick colors for... I do think maybe he could use a gear bag, or a vest, or something of that nature. I've been trying to only add accessories or clothing when it serves a purpose, so waffling a bit on that here... oh well. Maybe later.

Gizmo Stardust is a prolific inventor who lives in Canterlot with his father and sister. He's also heir to his dad's company, Stardust Industries, which recently became a lot more successful thanks to his inventions. Gizmo's hoofwork is present in many of the technological advancements in Canterlot and beyond.

One example (that brought Stardust Industries to where it is now) was Gizmo's most well-known creation; the airship. The introduction of a new form of flight to Equestria revolutionized the transportation and shipping industries. The airships Gizmo designed elegantly mesh together the mechanisms behind Equestria's balloons and trains, but require very little fuel thanks to sails which function in much the same way as pegasi wings.

Gizmo's also has a family friend, Thrift Twinkle, who he and his sister have known since they were little, thanks to their fathers being friends as well as business partners. Thrift and Gizmo are still pretty close, thanks to being friends when they were foals, and the fact that they got their cutie marks practically together.

This happened while Gizmo and Thrift were working together to save their respective family businesses. It was Thrift's business savvy and creativity which kept them from going under, and Gizmo's invention of the airship which brought both of their companies flying back into success again. Thrift helped Gizmo's inventions get off the ground, and worked to keep him funded until he finally completed his work.

Naturally then, the rebranded 'Phoenix Goods' was the first company to support and benefit from Stardust Industries' latest and greatest invention. And so, they managed not only to save their parents' crumbling businesses, but rocket them into unprecedented new highs.

It was during this process, through creating and helping each other, that both Gizmo and Thrift got their cutie marks. And more than proved their mettle to their parents at the same time. Both of them were overjoyed (and a little relieved, because they were blank flanks a little longer than most, and far longer than Gizmo's sister was)

When the two of them were younger, Gizmo had cheered on his sister when she got her cutie mark. When he got his, she responded in kind, throwing him a huge party and inviting practically everypony she knew to celebrate. It was during this bombastic party that Gizmo met Saber Frost.

He stumbled across him while taking a break from the chaos out on the balcony, where Saber had spent most of the night away from the light and revelry inside. Surprised to find somepony he didn't know awkwardly standing on the outskirts of the gathering with nothing but a glass of punch and a stony look on his face, he struck up a conversation. They hit it off, and Gizmo convinced the other not to leave the party, instead inviting him to join the two siblings for a quiet walk after the celebration concluded.

They may live far apart, but that doesn't stop them from seeing each other pretty often. For one thing, Thrift has reason to visit Canterlot on company business fairly frequently. And whenever he does, he makes sure to set aside time for the trio to hang out.

It was on one such visit that Gizmo introduced Thrift to Saber. They didn't click at first, but Gizmo and his sister, as usual, brought their friends together without too much trouble. Since then, three became four whenever Thrift was in Canterlot.

And when Saber was reassigned, Gizmo helped encourage him to request the region of Equestria where Thrift lived. Knowing his friend would be there to look out for Saber made him a lot less worried. Even though Gizmo knew it was for the best that Saber left Canterlot (and in fact had been trying to encourage and persuade Saber to accept the reassignment for a long time) he still misses their weekly chats over coffee and tea.

I love that I have enough ponies done to start weaving their stories together now. Also here's what he looks like without the hat or goggles:

[plasmas-arcade]

Roleplay Fanfic Masterlist

A collection of my collaborative works with @over-usedlittlespoon.

They will also be posted on this AO3 account.

Bucky Had Peter at Werecock - 18+

Part 1 | Part 2

Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier are separate, and Bucky plans on keeping it this way. The Winter Soldier being a werewolf that prowls the night, and Jim Barnes being a hard working New Yorker, just trying to make it through the day. But all that changes when Spiderman finally accepts an invitation to be mated.

Captain Bucky Hates Royals - 18+

[WIP]

Bucky Barnes is the captain of The Avenger, and after he decides to kidnap Peter Parker to get information on King Tony Stark, can he resist the younger man's charm?

Loving Letters - SFW

[WIP]

Bucky Barnes has just started his days in Wakanda, when he receives a letter from Spiderman.

You’re a Lifesaver! - RP Oneshot - SFW

[WIP]

After Peter loses his wallet, Bucky discovers it at a 7/11.

Glitz, Glam, and Guns - 18+

[WIP]

After Peter wins a few too many games at a casino, Bucky suspects him of cheating.

Delivery for a Piece of Ass - SFW

[WIP]

Bucky, the mailman who delivers to Avengers Tower discovers he can lift Thor’s hammer.

Do I Really Love You? - SFW

[WIP]

After a freak accident in Tony's lab, Bucky is transported to another universe, where his husband is Sam Wilson, and his life is entirely different then his current one.

Two Idiots and a Baby - SFW

[WIP]

After two agents are killed, their baby Peter Parker is left in the hands of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes.

Get That Fucking Cop Out of my Delivery Room - RP OneShot - SFW

[WIP]

Clint gets pulled over for speeding, and out of desperation says that he's on his way to see his partner give birth. Bucky, a single dad, is not pleased with this stranger watching him give birth.

Is There Something You Want to Tell me? - RP Oneshot - 18+

Part 1

Bucky and Clint follow a tip, where they get distracted by two sirens.

The Captain's Son - 18+

[WIP]

Bucky was adopted by Steve Rogers at a young age, and after reuniting as the Winter Soldier, Bucky is sent off to Wakanda to recover. That's where he meets the charming King T'Challa.

The King’s New Fascination - SFW

[WIP]

Shuri decides on their latest trip to America that her, T’Challa, and Okoye need to eat out at a restaurant. T’Challa quickly becomes smitten with their waiter, James Barnes.

My Husband From Hell - 18+

[WIP]

After Thanos uses his last snap to completely remove the super-soldier serum from Steve's body, Bucky discovers Steve's husband, Tony, has been neglectful.

Best Friends Stick Together - SFW

[WIP]

Steve shares his feelings with Bucky inside of Steve's closet while they're children, and he starts to fall in love with the other boy.

Bucky Has a Thing for Spiders and Redheads - 18+

[WIP]

The Winter Soldier experiences passion and joy for the first time, getting him and Black Widow in some hot water.

Who is Iron Man? - SFW

[WIP]

In a world where Tony never came out as Iron Man publicly, Bucky Barnes grows smitten with the mysterious iron suit. The only problem? He hates Tony Stark.

Stark Camp - 18+

[WIP]

When Bucky Barnes son gets invited to Stark tower for a week long stayaway camp, Bucky meets Tony Stark, the charming billionaire who can't help but flirt with the sexy dilf.

I Know What You Are - RP Oneshot - SFW

Part 1

Bucky discovers Tony is a vampire.

Star Spangled Toy - 18+

[WIP]

Bruce Banner is very passionate about Bucky and Steve having a safe sexual experience. Maybe to a personal degree.

Brucie Needs a Friend - SFW

[WIP]

Bruce is typically shy, but he's at least sociable. Bucky starts to notice the scientist is depressed, and helps him break out of his shell.

I Don't Wanna Fuck in Front of Your Captain America Poster - RP OneShot - 18+

Part 1

Peter takes Steve back to his apartment for a night of fun, only for Peter's choice of collectibles to kill Steve's boner.

Antenna of Lust - 18+

Part 1

Bucky's wet dreams become a problem for him, and Mantis decides to help.

Jeff and the Winter Soldier - SFW

Part 1

As Bucky is hiding out in Romania, he meets a landshark who becomes a normal part of his routine.

Tony’s Secret Toy - 18+

[WIP]

After the Winter Soldier is sold at auction, Steve and Peter discover that Tony is holding Bucky as a sex slave.

Avengers to the Rescue - SFW

[WIP]

After Bucky Barnes is recovered from HYDRA, he isn’t exactly the same, taking on the mind of a small child.

[usafphantom2]

Skunk Works’ Latest Stealthy Tanker Concept Revealed

The USAF is firming up requirements for a stealthy tanker to fit with its Next Generation Air Dominance ecosystem, which could change dramatically due to cost.

Joseph Trevithick Posted on Nov 6, 2024 7:35 PM EST

Lockheed Martin's Skunk Works advanced projects division has put forward a new vision for a stealthy pilot-optional aerial refueling tanker.

Lockheed Martin Skunk Works

Lockheed Martin’s Skunk Works advanced projects division has put forward a new notional vision for a stealthy pilot-optional aerial refueling tanker. This comes as the U.S. Air Force is refining requirements for a future Next Generation Air-Refueling System (NGAS) ‘system of systems’ and amid serious concerns about how the service expects to pay for that and other modernization priorities.

Skunk Works provided a rendering of its latest tanker concept refueling a pair of F-35A Joint Strike Fighters, seen at the top of this story and below, to The War Zone. A different view of this same conceptual design was first shown publicly at the Airlift/Tanker Association’s (ATA) recently concluded annual symposium, as reported by Aviation Week.

Lockheed Martin Skunk Works

The rendering shows an aircraft with swept main wings and horizontal stabilizers with canted outboard vertical stabilizers. The tanker also has stealthy (low-observable) features, including a chine line that wraps around the forward fuselage and continues on either side behind the wing roots and saw-tooth panel lines at various points. Low observable shaping on its wingtip pods is also evident. Where the aircraft’s engine intakes might be situated is not entirely clear, but there is a single large shrouded ‘platypus-like’ exhaust with serrated edges at the upper rear of the fuselage.

The tanker is shown with a pair of refueling booms extending from pod-like sponsons toward the end of each main wing. The boom refueling method is the U.S. Air Force’s preferred means of getting gas into other aircraft in flight. It is possible that the booms on Skunk Works’ new design concept could also be configured to provide fuel via the probe-and-drogue method, which the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps prefer. Probe-and-drogue is also used to refuel Air Force CV-22 tiltrotors, as well as helicopters across the U.S. military. This system is often installed internally on the centerline rear of large tankers, such as the Air Force’s KC-46 and now-retired KC-10, as well as the Airbus A330 Multi-Role Tanker Transport (MRTT).

Whether or not the booms might be expected to collapse and/or retract when not in use is unclear. Though such a system could offer aerodynamic and radar signature-reducing benefits, it could also limit the strength of the boom. That, in turn, could present potential operational limitations and safety concerns. The booms on traditional tankers have been known to break under the wrong circumstances as happened just earlier this year in a mishap involving an Air Force KC-46 and an F-15E Strike Eagle combat jet, which you can read more about here. The KC-46, specifically, has been beset by various technical and other issues over the years, including a still unsolved “stiff boom” problem that prevents it from being used operationally to refuel A-10 Warthog ground attack aircraft at all.

A KC-46 refuels an A-10 Warthog ground attack aircraft during a test. USAF

Aviation Week had reported that Skunk Works’ notional design is pilot optional, with no clear provision for a crewed cockpit seen in the renderings available. It is possible that a cockpit could be fitted, as required, in place of a faired-over section on top of the forward fuselage. Another variation of the rendering might also exist showing a cockpit.

A pilot-optional design versus a completely uncrewed version does offer certain benefits. The War Zone previously explored this in detail after the emergence of the stealthy Model 437 Vanguard technology demonstrator jet from Northrop Grumman subsidiary scaled composites earlier this year, writing:

“Unmanned aircraft are still quite restricted as to where and how they can operate. A pilot totally changes this massive bottleneck and means the aircraft can be flown wherever it needs to go, to participate in any developmental flights or training exercises, no matter how complex. It can do this unburdened by typical drone airspace restrictions and the need for chase aircraft that can be required in certain situations. Just ferrying to a different location while manned, so it can access airspace where it can fly as if it were an unmanned aircraft, is a giant advantage.”

“For many tests, having a human onboard can accelerate the speed at which they can be accomplished. At its most basic, initial primary flight testing of the airframe will go far faster with a pilot at the controls. Overall, more risks can be taken when executing autonomous activities with a pilot there to take over and act as a safety backstop if needed.”

Skunk Works has publicly shown a number of other notional advanced crewed tankers in the past, including a boom-equipped one with an almost fighter-esque appearance just earlier this year, the features of which we previously explored in detail. Lockheed Martin has presented variations on a blended-wing-body design concept configured for boom and probe-and-drogue refueling, as well.

A rendering of a stealthy crewed tanker concept that Skunk Works distributed earlier this year. Lockheed Martin Skunk Works

A model of a blend wing body aircraft concept that Lockheed Martin displayed in the late 2010s and said could be adaptable to meet future tanker requirements. Joseph Trevithick A model of a blend wing body aircraft concept that Lockheed martin displayed in the late 2010s and said could be adaptable to meet the requirements of what was then known as KC-Z. Joseph Trevithick

Lockheed Martin art from the late 2010s depicting stealthy blended wing body tankers fueling aircraft using the boom and probe-and-drogue methods. Lockheed Martin

“Our team continues to explore a variety of configurations that deliver mission effectiveness through a connected, affordable, survivable and autonomous next generation tanker capability,” a Skunk Works spokesperson told The War Zone when asked for more details about the newest notional design. “We look forward to providing the U.S. Air Force with the range and endurance needed to fulfill the future of NGAS as it continues to define requirements.”

As already noted, the Air Force currently describes NGAS as a proposed family of systems, which could include a crew or uncrewed stealthy tanker, or a pilot-optional design, or some combination thereof. Boeing has also been pitching a land-based derivative of the MQ-25 Stingray tanker drone that it is developing for the U.S. Navy as a possible option for NGAS.

The complete NGAS ‘system of system’ is also expected to include existing non-stealthy tankers like the KC-46 and the KC-135 with various self-defense and other upgrades. The Air Force has also been actively exploring ‘buddy store’ podded aerial refueling systems that can work with aircraft configured to use the boom, which would also allow other aircraft, including tactical jets, to contribute to this refueling ecosystem.

Uncrewed tankers could be paired with crewed ones in a hub-and-spoke arrangement, with the drones helping ferry fuel to areas closer to the tactical edge while reducing risks to human aircrews. It is worth noting here that Skunk Works’ new rendering shows a notional design that can be refueled in flight itself.

Other tactics, techniques, and procedures could also help reduce the vulnerability of key aerial refueling assets, including linking up with receivers at lower altitudes below an enemy’s radar horizon. This is something the Air Force’s special operations community already has experienced doing, including with a pocket fleet of specialized KC-135RT “receiver-tankers” that can refuel and be refueled in mid-air, which you can read more about here.

A mid-air refueling capable KC-135RT about to link up with a regular KC-135 tanker. USAF

The War Zone has been highlighting the increasingly critical need for stealthy or otherwise more survivable tankers for years now. Expanding and evolving air defense threats, especially in the context of potential high-fight with China have only underscored this reality and are key drivers behind the Air Force’s current NGAS planning.

“Essentially the threat, China again, has reached out with new counter-air systems that could threaten our aircraft, especially tankers, at longer ranges, beyond the ranges which we normally would refuel fighter planes,” Secretary of the Air Force Frank Kendall said in a keynote address at the same ATA symposium where Skunk Works first rolled out its new tanker rendering. “This put our whole tanker acquisition strategy in question. It is still in question, but we are working to resolve the uncertainty as quickly as possible.”

Critical factors in this ongoing debate are range considerations, which are particularly pronounced in the Pacific region, together with the typically short combat radii of America’s current tactical combat jet fleets. This, in turn, puts existing tankers dangerously close to, if not inside anti-access/area denial bubbles near-peer competitors like China have already established and continue to expand.

Stealthy tankers that are not meant to penetrate deep into high-threat airspace, but to persist and operate on the edges of those zones, allowing existing tactical airpower and newer platforms to make it to their targets, could be part of changing that equation. Air Force plans for a new sixth-generation crewed stealth combat jet and Collaborative Combat Aircraft (CCA) drones as part of the Next Generation Air Dominance (NGAD) initiative have been set to have significant impacts in all this, with discussions about their expected ranges (and other capabilities) also tied in with how NGAS evolves. Procurement of a stealth tanker could help trade range and thus the complexity and cost of these new tactical platforms, while also keeping existing ones more relevant. The NGAD combat jet program is currently undergoing a deep review and the outcome of that reassessment will also have direct ramifications for the NGAS and CCA efforts.

In addition, “unfortunately, any new [tanker] design cannot be fielded for several years at best, even if affordable,” Kendall warned while speaking at the ATA gathering, highlighting potential lower cost-near term alternatives, such as upgrading existing tankers.

An artist’s depiction of a blended wing body concept aircraft employed in the tanker role. This art was produced in relation to a program called Speed Agile in the late 2000s-early 2010s. Public Domain An artist’s depiction of a Speed Agile concept aircraft employed in the tanker role. Public Domain

The Air Force’s top civilian also added new and even more dire remarks to a growing chorus of concerns about the affordability of a host of next-generation modernization efforts beyond NGAS that the service has previously described as essential for fighting and winning future high-end conflicts.

“The variable that concerns me most as we go through this analysis and produce a range of alternatives is going to be [the availability of adequate resources.] … to pursue any combination of those new designs,” Kendall said, referring to the NGAD combat jet and CCA drones, as well as NGAS.

You can read more about this brewing budgetary crisis here.

The Air Force is hoping to have firmer understanding of its NGAS requirements before the year is out. At that point, it may be clearer whether or not something like Skunk Works’ newest design concept is what the service is looking for to meet its future aerial refueling needs, if it can afford them.

Contact the author: joe@twz.com

Latest in U.S. Air Force

[gerec]

SPACE AUS - PART 2

The Edge of What Doesn’t End by populuxe

When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

burn the land and boil the sea by kaydeefalls (series)

In which the Unification War begins, Erik leads the Browncoats' mutant faction, and Charles searches for something worth fighting for. (Fusion with the Firefly 'verse)

Remind me what you're looking for by pearl_o

"There's a dozen ships here you could get transport on," Erik points out.

"I'm asking you," Charles says.

A Beginner's Guide to Star-Forming Event Horizons by midrashic

Charles Xavier is not thrilled to be on the USSAS Magneto, with its missions to the back-end of nowhere and its captain who is famous for having violated the Prime Directive. But appearances can be deceiving.

And we pulled each other like gravity by hllfire

Erik accompanies Charles, Crown Prince of the Xavier Empire, to his first diplomatic meeting on the planet Themis, where he finds out something about the Prince and they end up talking about the past and how their paths had crossed before.

The Sleeping Beauty in the Ivory Tower (- or Erik Lehnsherr is a hopeless romantic) by ximeria

There is a tale, out among the stars, of a sleeping beauty in an ivory tower.

Infinite Distance by lachatblanche

When they encounter an unfamiliar and seemingly-abandoned ship in the middle of nowhere in space, Captain Charles Xavier of the spaceship Graymalkin heads out to investigate.

Infinite Distance (Finite Time Remix) by SlightWeasel

A month ago, far-flung Genosha went dark on every communications channel.

Whatever happened there, it has little enough relevance for young Charles Xavier, resident of Graymalkin-- until the day he receives a distress call from Erik Lehnsherr, Genosha's only surviving citizen...

Pit stop by diner_drama

Charles was pretty happy with his lot, on the whole. As chief engineer, he spent the majority of his time teaching hot-shot new mechanics and aspiring ship-builders. He could confidently say that he had created an excellent work environment that really allowed these young workers to flourish and grow. The only real challenges, apart from the occasional Very Large Fire (bad) and having to fill in his yearly expense reports (catastrophic), were arrogant pilots who believed that the importance of their ship gave them carte blanche to treat the repair crew like garbage.

Case in point, Erik Fucking Lehnsherr.

Yes, he was the best racing pilot in the galaxy. Yes, he had designed his ship personally and it was fundamentally perfect in every important way. Yes, his steely blue eyes made Charles feel light-headed whenever they came up on his viewscreen.

He was still an asshole.

Neither Rhyme Nor Reason by unveiled

Charles liked to tell people that the first time they met, Serik punched a kitten. (Or, the one where Erik is an angry Vulcan, Charles is still a telepath, and grief still shapes their lives.)

A Vision of Peace by Gerec

They call his people 'monsters' and say that a telepath is incapable of something as universal as falling in love.

But they're wrong about Charles Xavier, heir to the throne of Cerellia; for everything he does in life, he does for love.

It's Magic! (A Gift Remix) by Gerec 

The Oracle agrees to help Erik locate Shaw, if Erik agrees to return to him after the mission.

And now that the deed is done, it's time to keep his promise.

Flirting with Death (Eternal Remix) by Gerec 

Erik Lehnsherr is the latest in a long line of vampire hunters, their legacy going back a thousand years to the days before space travel and the existence of life beyond Earth. He's tracking one of the most dangerous blood-drinkers they've ever known, and he's determined to save the man she's targeted as her next victim.

Now if he could only convince Xavier that his life is in very real danger...

SPACE AUS - PART 1