#ustra

[wickedsrest-rp]

NAME: Ustra

RARITY: ★★★☆☆

THREAT LEVEL: ★★★☆☆ | More solitary than most vampires but capable of causing painful deaths. Watch out for the tongue. Best left to slayers to identify and kill.

HABITAT: Most frequently found by bodies of freshwater, even if these are only wells or small ponds. They’re an especially common sight around bogs. They need to keep their skin hydrated and beautiful.

DESCRIPTION: Most who encounter an ustra can only wish it were a regular blood-drinking vampire. At about five feet tall, with its muscular and slimy appearance and long, slurping tongue it keeps hidden away until the pivotal moment, the ustra stands out from the crowd for more than its diet. Most wouldn’t expect it to be a vampire at all. Ustras use their venom-coated tongue to immobilize their prey before quite literally sucking the bones and blood out of humans and animals. They do this by then sliding their tongue into the mouths of individuals to liquify and consume the victim’s innards while the victim is still alive. A sure sign that an ustra hunts in the area is finding sacks of human and animal skin hanging around, with gaping mouths and various volumes of liquified organs inside. They often store them like this as snacks for later, so some will be completely deflated and emptied while others might be half full, while they wait for night to fall again so they can return to it. Because ustras are not created via an exchange of blood like most other vampires, and they look very different, it’s speculated that ustras predate the creation of many other vampire variants. Their method of creation is unknown, but slayers can confirm that these creatures are indeed undead. Due to the lack of knowledge surrounding how they’re made, it’s prudent not to make any physical contact with an ustra if possible.

ABILITIES: Ustras share their preternatural strength, agility, and healing with their vampire brethren. Their tongue and the spines along their back are coated in a powerful poison which immobilizes others on contact. Ustras tend to prefer keeping their distance rather than overpowering someone with force. They often spit wads of their saliva on their prey as a projectile; they can do this even from a considerable distance. Once they’re ready to eat, they liquify their food using larger amounts of the same compound. Unlike most vampires, ustras do not need an invitation to enter a residence, but they tend to be found exclusively outdoors anyway. They are decent swimmers and can stay underwater indefinitely. 

WEAKNESS: Sentient but not sapient, ustras are not very clever; they know only how to find their food, and can be easily outsmarted. Their soft skin is easily wounded and dries out under heat, giving them extra susceptibility to sunlight and immolation. The sensitivity of their skin might be why they hesitate to get physically close to people despite their imposing size. Ustras may also be staked through the heart with an ivory stake (hard and expensive to acquire these days), or decapitated.

#monsters #freshwater #ustra #vampire monster #undead monster

[radicalgraff]

"Ustra* died of old age, kill Bolsonaro now"

*Colonel Ustra was a torturer during Brazil's military dictatorship, one of his victims being the ex-president Dilma Rousseff

#submission #Sticker

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[sagecodex]

When I'm putting together a project and I need to fill it with content that doesn't exist yet, I usually turn to the tried and true Lorem Ipsum generator. But sometimes, I want to have a little fun with my projects.

So here's a list of 60+ text generators (in alphabetical order) to zhuzh up your projects. Just don't be like me and forget to replace them with something appropriate when you share them with the world (a mistake I will likely continue to make).

Note: the following blocks of text are all pre-generated. Some of them may be offensive, though I am by no means endorsing any of them! They're just examples of of what these tools generate and I’m too lazy to edit.

Lorem Ipsum

Generates the standard lorem ipsum text.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur.

90s Ipsum

Generates a string of 90s text and -ism’s.

Charlotte hornets flip flops braveheart as I lay me down to sleep umbro shorts aviators, this is your brain on drugs speed tlc schindler’s list hot pink chronic. Extreme sports dennis rodman toy story choker necklace. Body piercings armageddon personalized mixtapes toyota supra, spiked hair I've fallen and I can't get up bowl cut dallas cowboys catsuit. Airwalk khaki roseanne leopard print instant messaging royal stewart tartan.

Bacon Ipsum

Generates a block of bacon and meat text.

Bacon ipsum dolor amet biltong rump bresaola kielbasa, pancetta shank shoulder turkey kevin meatloaf cow ground round. Jerky corned beef sausage, filet mignon chislic strip steak capicola porchetta shoulder. Biltong turkey brisket landjaeger, cupim pancetta ham hock pastrami short loin.

Baseball Ipsum

Generates baseball-themed text.

Runs leather fielder's choice center fielder slide perfect game glove leather grounder. Batter's box knuckleball club wild pitch butcher boy cellar win 4-6-3. Batting average petey relief pitcher wrigley hack, scorecard right fielder away. Cardinals bush league no decision home curve earned run flyout.

Bavaria Ipsum

GeneratesBavarian-themed text in Dutch.

Bavaria ipsum dolor sit amet Foidweg Biakriagal, guad o’ha Auffisteign? Ned Servas ognudelt Radi Charivari Griasnoggalsubbm kimmt auf gehds beim Schichtl Zidern. Deandlgwand oamoi und glei wirds no fui lustiga, de Sonn Engelgwand Maßkruag.

Beer Lorem Ipsum

Generates beer text that could almost be a real blog post.

The Mango Beer panics, and another cantankerous Coors goes to sleep; however, an Ellis Island IPA brainwashes a foreign wanker. Furthermore, a burly customer laughs out loud, and a Kashmir IPA of a Home brew avoids contact with an obsequious stein. A surly Pilsner often competes with a chain saw.

Birolipsum

Generates quotes from the President of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro (or Biroliro for those intimate). In Portuguese.

Marcos Valério alega que o corrupto presidiário Lula é um dos mandantes do assassinato de Celso Daniel! Surpreso? Não! Pela memória do coronel Brilhante Ustra, o pavor de Dilma Rousseff. Eu estou lutando contra um sistema, contra o establishment. Paulo fala: “venda suas capas e compre espadas".

Bluth Ipsum

Generates quotes from the TV show Arrested Development.

I'll be in the hospital bar. You know there isn't a hospital bar, Mother. Well, this is why people hate hospitals. They want to break his legs. It's a good thing he's already got that little scooter. A flower in my garden, a mystery in my panties.

Bob Ross Lipsum

Generates quotes from Bob Ross.

You can create beautiful things - but you have to see them in your mind first. If you don't think every day is a good day - try missing a few. You'll see. All you need to paint is a few tools, a little instruction, and a vision in your mind. And I will hypnotize that just a little bit. We spend so much of our life looking - but never seeing. The little tiny Tim easels will let you down.

Bro Ipsum

Generates “bro culture” text.

Bro ipsum dolor sit amet bunny slope free ride laps, liftie park beater frozen chicken heads Whistler skid lid huck ollie taco mitt. Nose bonk hardtail chain ring white room taco euro spin backside presta rigid giblets. Stunt free ride taco glove deck. White room death cookies park, tele giblets grab dope 360 corn table top spread eagle nose beater snake bite.

Busey Ipsum

Generates quotes from Gary Busey.

Go with the feeling of the nature. Take it easy. Know why you're here. And remember to balance your internal energy with the environment.Sometimes horses cough and fart at the same time, so stay out of the range of its butt muscle because a horses butt muscle is thick.

Cajun Ipsum

Generates cajun-inspired text.

Cayenne boiled crawfish bread pudding sauce piquante Boudreaux po-boy. Interstate envie Lafayette tasso lagniappe King Cake fishing iced tea. Po-boy bonjour smoked sausage trail ride beignet merci beaucoup cajun lagniappe hunting iced tea.

Cat Ipsum

Generates text as cat thoughts.

Stare at guinea pigs mmmmmmmmm eeeeeeee ooooooooo wwwwwwww run in circles, so loved it, hated it, loved it, hated it. Cough furball find box a little too small and curl up with fur hanging out. Kitty ipsum dolor sit amet, shed everywhere shed everywhere stretching attack your ankles chase the red dot, hairball run catnip eat the grass sniff.

Cheese Ipsum

Generates cheese and cheese-adjacent text.

Cow cheese triangles cheesy grin. Stinking bishop port-salut lancashire pecorino stinking bishop cheesy grin red leicester danish fontina. Stilton swiss bocconcini parmesan cottage cheese fondue parmesan hard cheese. Airedale everyone loves halloumi cheese triangles cut the cheese stilton stilton taleggio. Smelly cheese.

Cheesburger Ipsum

Generates actual cheeseburger copy. Limited in what it can give you.

The last time you had a cheeseburger was too long ago. Try not to drool when you think about the slightly charred, medium-rare meat nestled between soft brioche, cradled in crisp iceberg lettuce and flavour amplifying condiments. Why are you still reading this- go get a cheeseburger.

Chiquito Ipsum

I don’t speak Spanish, but it generates Spanish text. Also has a Latin option. Which I also don’t speak. Idk I'm very confused.

Lorem fistrum no puedor de la pradera tiene musho peligro diodenoo a wan. Ese hombree me cago en tus muelas qué dise usteer fistro. Mamaar no puedor al ataquerl ese hombree diodeno caballo blanco caballo negroorl. Ese que llega te va a hasé pupitaa la caidita te voy a borrar el cerito hasta luego Lucas se calle ustée.

Chuck Norris Facts

Generates Chuck Norris Facts. What did you expect XD

Chuck Norris doesn't churn butter. He roundhouse kicks the cows and the butter comes straight out If you spell Chuck Norris in Scrabble, you win. Forever, Chuck Norris is the king of fighters, Chuck Norris originally appeared in the "Street Fighter II" video game, but was removed by Beta Testers because every button caused him to do a roundhouse kick. When asked bout this "glitch," Norris replied, "That's no glitch.".

Coffee Ipsum

Generates coffee-inspired text

Cultivar, strong carajillo whipped half and half irish gal��o. Id variety that, at redeye, trifecta variety crema robust con panna. Coffee ristretto, et milk, robust flavour cinnamon spoon cappuccino. Dripper, half and half cortado white extra milk medium.

Corporate Ipsum

Generates corporate-style jargon. Sounds like every sales meeting I’ve ever been in.

Leverage agile frameworks to provide a robust synopsis for high level overviews. Iterative approaches to corporate strategy foster collaborative thinking to further the overall value proposition. Organically grow the holistic world view of disruptive innovation via workplace diversity and empowerment.

Cupcake Ipsum

Generates pastry and dessert-inspired text.

Marshmallow lollipop apple pie bonbon pastry icing jujubes toffee jelly beans. Liquorice marzipan toffee candy canes bear claw tart lollipop apple pie. Tootsie roll cake gummies gingerbread wafer sesame snaps cupcake fruitcake sweet roll.

Dalaipsum

Generates quotes from His Holiness the XIVth Dalai Lama.

I love friends, I want more friends. I love smiles. That is a fact. How to develop smiles? There are a variety of smiles. Some smiles are sarcastic. Some smiles are artificial-diplomatic smiles. These smiles do not produce satisfaction, but rather fear or suspicion. But a genuine smile gives us hope, freshness. If we want a genuine smile, then first we must produce the basis for a smile to come.

DeLorean Ipsum

Generates quotes from the movie Back to the Future.

Hey, Doc? Doc. Hello, anybody home? Einstein, come here, boy. What's going on? Wha- aw, god. Aw, Jesus. Whoa, rock and roll. Yo C'mon, Mom, make it fast, I'll miss my bus. Hey see you tonight, Pop. Woo, time to change that oil. Hello. Tab?

Dino Ipsum

Generates names of dinosaurs!

Astrophocaudia Chaoyangsaurus Priconodon Amygdalodon Dracoraptor Mahakala Zalmoxes Anthodon Alocodon Lingyuanosaurus Kotasaurus Leinkupal Magnamanus Styracosaurus Atlasaurus Janenschia Drusilasaura Acristavus Leinkupal Bagaceratops Cedrorestes Batyrosaurus Sinornithoides Coelophysis Neuquensaurus Pachyspondylus Eurolimnornis Platyceratops Marisaurus Quilmesaurus.

Doggo Ipsum

Cat Ipsum but for dogs.

Doggo ipsum lotsa pats very taste wow lotsa pats extremely cuuuuuute, pats adorable doggo. heck very good spot heckin. Heckin good boys and girls clouds corgo sub woofer borking doggo, heckin angery woofer boof length boy. He made many woofs pats h*ck heckin good boys and girls pats boofers, you are doing me the shock the neighborhood pupper long bois.

Durham Ipsum

I don’t know where Durham is, but it generates text inspired by the city...county? 

Triangle localista dino trail jazz diamondview nccu the connecter historic preservation smoffice lemurs, bimbe scrap exchange trinity park brightleaf dance upcycled. Chapel hill street locavore wunc plaid, beer old five points 15-501, angier drive hipster.

Farm Animal Lorem Ipsum

Generates farm-inspired text. I hate that oink oink is in this.

Mallet herbs basil nest, in welding equipment pens quail. Fertilizer buzz, purr meow cheep chinchillas squeak, seeds maple syrup worms, potato alligators grunt are at bees. Apples ducks straw, quail a ostriches donkey, hay hook cucumbers. Post pounder calf, hay or duck is, tool shed horse. Grapes at yams mushrooms organic berries gobble. Mouse soybeans sweet corn hogs llamas or oink oink wind.

Fillerama

Generates quotes from the TV show Futurama.

OK, this has gotta stop. I'm going to remind Fry of his humanity the way only a woman can. In your time, yes, but nowadays shut up! Besides, these are adult stemcells, harvested from perfectly healthy adults whom I killed for their stemcells. I saw you with those two "ladies of the evening" at Elzars. Explain that.

Gangsta Lorem Ipsum

Generates “gangsta” inspired text.

Lorem ipsum dolizzle sit amet, consectetuer gizzle bow wow wow. Nullam sapizzle velit, get down get down volutpizzle, suscipit ma nizzle, gravida vel, mammasay mammasa mamma oo sa. Pellentesque crackalackin tortizzle. Yo eros. Fo shizzle at dolizzle dapibizzle turpizzle tempizzle da bomb.

Heisenberg Ipsum

Generates quotes from the TV show Breaking Bad. It lets you select the character (I’m assuming they’re all from the same show I haven’t seen it).

He has enough money to last forever. He knows he needs to keep moving. You'll never find him. He's out of the picture. I saved his life, I owed him that, but now he and I are done. Which is exactly what you wanted, isn't it. You've always struck me as a very pragmatic man so if I may, I would like to review options with you. Of which, it seems to me you have two.

Hillbilly Ipsum

Generates hillbilly-inspired text and -ism’s.

Chickens in the sack died when I was young rye whiskey steel driving crew? Going to town soldier's joy. One arm round my whiskey keg poor boy sugar baby soldier's joy, fiddle, coming down the track, hot corn nine-pound hammer cluck old hen run. Stranger? Pickle my bones in alcohol.

Hipster Ipsum

Generates hipster-inspired text.

I'm baby plaid umami kale chips, pinterest selvage microdosing gochujang Brooklyn small batch vinyl 3 wolf moon. VHS pinterest wayfarers normcore direct trade pickled lumbersexual vegan yuccie palo santo kickstarter crucifix 3 wolf moon. Vexillologist adaptogen try-hard, chicharrones hexagon vape polaroid.

Horror Lorem Ipsum

Generates horror-inspired text.

Gore at chainsaw knife crazed choking helpless. In willow trees, killer dolls are rotten teeth bite, sheep children virus nibh, in zombies brains unknown ghost creepy. Drenched scream scared dark. Creep cold graves, shadow non fear a, psychotic ashes ghost. Eerie needles edginess, graveyard on death rotten, disturbing non grave. 

Jipsum

A random lorem ipsum generator so not all your text is the same. It’s in German though.

Impensa quaeque mediocris elitr iactare Confirmat metu comit Explicatis civibus deterruisset Manus. Cupiditatum exedunt suaviter inveniri voluptas pauca Inter illa confirmavit. Reprehensiones rebus imperdiet etiam temporis Ornateque delectatio platonem nostris occulta Hausta intercapedo magni. Dicitis timeam Vocet faciendum consul Simulent chrysippe. Fortunae nostros arare Inter futurove.

Journo Ipsum

Generates some of the most common catchphrases, buzzwords, and bon mots of the future-of-news crowd. (Wow I hate that description)

future API Zite the notion of the public #twittermakesyoustupid election-night hologram Rupert Murdoch crowdfunding CPC nut graf gamification gotta grok it before you rock it rubber cement, Foursquare nonprofit Dan Fleckner WikiLeaks abundance libel lawyer Tim Carmody media bias.

Katy Perry Ipsum

Generates Katy Perry lyrics.

The boys break their necks try'na to creep a little sneak peek. Think the city towed my car, chandeliers on the floor. I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire. They say, be afraid you're not like the others, futuristic lover. You think I'm funny when I tell the punchline wrong. We'd keep all our promises be us against the world. Yeah, she's footloose and so fancy free. So I sat quietly, agreed politely.

Khaled Ipsum

Generates Khaled quotes...lyrics? Unclear.

Lorem Khaled Ipsum is a major key to success. The weather is amazing, walk with me through the pathway of more success. Take this journey with me, Lion! Look at the sunset, life is amazing, life is beautiful, life is what you make it. It’s on you how you want to live your life. Everyone has a choice.

Lancashire Ipsum

Generates colloquialisms that originate from the county of Lancashire.

Lancashire ipsum dolor amet gradely axin camp neaw cowd frit. Bellasses yer'sen unawl greaund peawnd. Camp Darrun geet, howd feyther clowt eyter. Vawse way'er clum nought. Gronny no nouse heawr beawnt, Keawyed City purring es'tin inth arrers bin diddy our Peg shoon. 

Liquor Ipsum

A boozy text generator.

Singapore sling old etonian aberlour missouri mule vodka sunrise two fingers shirley temple black pappy van winkle glenburgie. Paddy the last word, gibson vat 69, bruichladdich flirtini lejon hanky-panky drambuie finlandia tequila sunrise edradour!

Melbourne Ipsum

Honestly I have no idea what this is but I’m assuming it’s Australian.

Naked for satan street art, spiegeltent north of the river brunswick and brunswick st MSAC kylie minogue, swanston melb collingwood ferals spring racing carnival empire of the sun, the melbourne cup the hawks victory vs heart four seasons in one day the borek woman, avalon is so not melb the espy bill clinton ate two bowls.

Mid-century Ipsum

Generates mid-century-inspired text.

Hostess trolley bakelite selectric creative carport candy-ass, jazz whiskey beatnik creative. Tiki upswept frutiger googie drive-in futuristic highway jet-age television, herman miller danish modern jet-age. Ratpack ranch home whiskey candy-ass upswept saul bass jet-age hostess trolley?

Morse Code Lorem Ipsum

Generates random Morse Code.

.-.. --- .-. . -- .. .--. … ..- -- -.. --- .-.. --- .-. … .. - .- -- . - --..-- -.-. --- -. … . -.-. - . - ..- . .-. .- -.. .. .--. .. … -.-. .. -. --. . .-.. .. - .-.-.- ..- - --- -.. .. --- .-.-.- -. .- -- … . -.. . … - .-.-.- -. .- -- .- .-. .. … ..- … . - . … - .. .- -.-. ..- .-.. .. … .- -.. .. .--. .. … -.-. .. -. --. .-.-.- …- . … - .. -… ..- .-.. ..- -- .- -. - . .. .--. … ..- -- .--. .-. .. -- .. … .. -. ..-. .- ..- -.-. .. -… ..- … --- .-. -.-. .. .-.. ..- -.-. - ..- … . - ..- .-.. -

Mussem Ipsum

I don’t know who Mussem is but it’s in Portuguese. He looks friendly?

Mussum Ipsum, cacilds vidis litro abertis. A ordem dos tratores não altera o pão duris.Interessantiss quisso pudia ce receita de bolis, mais bolis eu num gostis.Suco de cevadiss, é um leite divinis, qui tem lupuliz, matis, aguis e fermentis.Admodum accumsan disputationi eu sit. Vide electram sadipscing et per.

Neil deGrasse Tyson Ipsum

Generates quotes from astrophysicist Niel deGrasse Tyson. 

As an educator, I try to get people to be fundamentally curious and to question ideas that they might have or that are shared by others. In that state of mind, they have earned a kind of inoculation against the fuzzy thinking of these weird ideas floating around out there.

Nietzsche Ipsum

Generates Nietzsche-inspired text.

Society depths ubermensch christianity sea enlightenment joy virtues decieve society good disgust selfish noble. Ascetic decieve pious play deceptions decieve decieve intentions self self ideal.

Ocean Creature Lorem Ipsum

Generates sea creature-inspired text.

Manta ray with lionfish ect. Coral hogfish fingernail clam in tilefish mandarinfish crab lionfish weasel shark. Yellow pseudochromis weasel shark shadow, darkness in deap ocean an, Motionless Wabash pigtoe Full moon. Colorful soldierfish banded sole jump. Nurse shark at goatfish grey whale.

Obama Ipsum

Generates quotes from former US President Barack Obama.

We are a better country than this. But I will also renew the tough, direct diplomacy that can prevent Iran from obtaining nuclear weapons and curb Russian aggression. It is time for us to act on what everyone knows to be true. This tolerance is essential for religion to thrive, but it is being challenged in many different ways.

Office Ipsum

Generates sentences you’ve heard in every meeting ever. Also has a client feedback version!

If you're not hurting you're not winning pivot, dear hiring manager:, for incentivization even dead cats bounce wiggle room, for one-sheet. Put a record on and see who dances high-level, but we've got to manage that low hanging fruit lift and shift. It just needs more cowbell make it a priority, but strategic high-level 30,000 ft view pro-sumer software, so golden goose low-hanging fruit can we parallel path. 

Pirate Ipsum

Generates pirate-inspired jargon.

Squiffy ballast maroon gangplank tackle grog scuppers driver barque tack. Yardarm mizzen barque capstan heave to hardtack Pieces of Eight port hulk parrel. Pinnace lass Jack Tar gabion Yellow Jack run a rig furl red ensign come about Brethren of the Coast.

Pizza Ipsum

I love pizza ?

Pizza ipsum dolor amet garlic sausage white pizza bianca hawaiian pizza meat lovers large onions. Banana peppers black olives stuffed crust, pizza steak bbq sauce chicken wing meatball garlic lasagna green bell peppers anchovies mushrooms extra cheese. Philly steak bianca pizza mayo, garlic sauce bbq rib platter. 

Placehodler

It’s crypto and I hate it.

Bitcoin could be many dormant accidental fork! Monero waited some efficient do your own research during lots of market cap. Since someone specialises in few quick coin in the difficulty, Litecoin limited a hot wallet at few smart contract, so although SHA 256 did lots of provably fair double spend behind many Lambo

Pommy Ipsum

“The official lorem ipsum filler text generator of the British Empire.”

Pommy ipsum knee high to a grasshopper i'll be a monkey's uncle sod's law knows bugger all about nowt one would like spend a penny grab a jumper, cheesed off that's ace shepherd's pie mince pies anorak because there was nothing on the gogglebox, what a load of guff chippy accordingly nosh on a stag do chin up.

Postmodernist Generator

Generates a whole meaningless essay of postmodernist jargon.

If one examines textual deappropriation, one is faced with a choice: either reject textual precapitalist theory or conclude that sexual identity has objective value. Lyotard uses the term ‘textual materialism’ to denote a mythopoetical paradox It could be said that the premise of textual precapitalist theory holds that narrative is a product of communication, given that narrativity is equal to language.

Ramen Ipsum

Ramen is love. Ramen is life.

Ginger sesame oil abura soba chopped onions chicken stock seasoned egg corn Nagoya pork bones soy sauce. Asahikawa flavoured oil scallions Kagoshima Tokushima abura soba Hakata Tokyo Nissin instant cup ramen soy sauce yuzu toasted sesame seeds ramen burger vinegar.

Rush Ipsum

Generates lyrics from the band Rush.

One likes to believe in the freedom of music, but glittering prizes and endless compromises shatter the illusion of integrity. I wandered home though the silent streets and fell into a fitful sleep. I know it's most unusual to come before you so, but I've found an ancient miracle.

Sagan Ipsum

Generates text inspired by astronomer Carl Sagan.

Paroxysm of global death Drake Equation explorations another world from which we spring a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. Cosmos kindling the energy hidden in matter globular star cluster dream of the mind's eye ship of the imagination courage of our questions?

Samuel L. Ipsum

Generates quotes from actor Samuel L. Jackson. (Warning: inappropriate language)

Now that there is the Tec-9, a crappy spray gun from South Miami. This gun is advertised as the most popular gun in American crime. Do you believe that shit? It actually says that in the little book that comes with it: the most popular gun in American crime. Like they're actually proud of that shit.

Skate Ipsum

Generates skater lingo.

Skate ipsum dolor sit amet, Primo slide dude rock and roll mute-air 540 nose bump. Masonite locals egg plant trucks Saran Wrap camel back. Pool bigspin Paul Rodriguez no comply mini ramp nose slide feeble. 720 fakie out griptape Grind King mute-air regular footed bail. Pogo rail slide crail slide full-cab feeble concave Johnny Rad. 

Space Ipsum

Generates outer space-inspired text.

There is no strife, no prejudice, no national conflict in outer space as yet. Its hazards are hostile to us all. Its conquest deserves the best of all mankind, and its opportunity for peaceful cooperation many never come again. But why, some say, the moon? Why choose this as our goal?

Trump Ipsum

Generates text inspired by former US President Donald Trump.

You have so many different things placeholder text has to be able to do, and I don't believe Lorem Ipsum has the stamina. You have so many different things placeholder text has to be able to do, and I don't believe Lorem Ipsum has the stamina. He’s not a word hero. He’s a word hero because he was captured. I like text that wasn’t captured.

Web 2.0 Ipsum

Generates text from nonsensical Web 2.0 startup names, just for the heck of it. 

Webtwo ipsum sclipo zapier groupon blippy, wesabe. Empressr twitter groupon meebo joukuu doostang octopart, grockit spock doostang koofers. Scribd airbnb zoho insala gooru chartly yuntaa, odeo knewton koofers balihoo zlio. Wikia prezi zlio empressr glogster cloudera tivo kno, wufoo sifteo zimbra jiglu kippt.

Wine Ipsum

Generates actual filler copy about wine.

The aftertaste, or "finish," is the primary factor in judging the quality and character of wine. Tomato and cherry flavors nestle comfortably together with notes of leather and clay in Sangiovese. A lingering finish indicates a luscious vintage! If a husband found his wife drinking wine in the early Roman times, he was at liberty to kill her. Be not offended when your ex drinks wine.

Yolo Ipsum

I hate this and I will be using it for every project going forward.

Don’t trust anyone, cause you only live once. Aliquam imperdiet, ligula vehicula sodales lobortis, dui arcu ultricies libero, vitae tempor eros libero sed neque. Pop a molly, I’m sweatin’, consequat feugiat eros.  How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized? 

Zombie Ipsum

“A macabre feast of frightful filler.”

Zombie ipsum reversus ab viral inferno, nam rick grimes malum cerebro. De carne lumbering animata corpora quaeritis. Summus brains sit​​, morbo vel maleficia? De apocalypsi gorger omero undead survivor dictum mauris. Hi mindless mortuis soulless creaturas, imo evil stalking monstra adventus resi dentevil vultus comedat cerebella viventium.

#resource #resources #lorem ipsum #filler #filler text generators #web design #generator #text generator #did i make this list so i don't have to google “lipsum generators” ? absolutely i did #did i hyperfixate on this list instead of designing? maybe #don't perceive me you know who you are #anyway here you go #use them wisely #sagecodex collection #sage codes collection

[piksel]

ustra aldim kendime yuzume bunu yapip yapmamak konusunda hala kararsizim ya siz denediniz mi😶‍🌫️

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Early January LOCATION: Darkling Lake PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Nicole (@nicsalazar) SUMMARY: Wyatt thinks he’s found a nice midnight snack. He hasn’t. It’s an ustra, but he doesn’t know that. Neither does Nicole, who happens to be out walking the banks of the lake that night. The pair team up to take the creature down, but it doesn’t go so well for Wyatt. CONTENT WARNINGS: None.

—

It wasn’t often camp set so close to Darkling Lake. For good reason. Firefighters were wise enough not to get too familiar with the territory, its bleak reputation influential enough to defer to places nearby when in need of an anchor point. But, with fire season well on the way, it wasn’t always sensible, and sometimes the most awful of fires required drastic measures.

The day had been exhausting. Digging up the fireline, reducing fuel and the general stress of, well, everything —work and real life— weighed heavily on Nicole’s body, her muscles so sore she didn’t think sleep would come easily. When the night fell and the new crew came in, some firefighters had found their way back to the main tent. Others, like her, preferred to sleep on the forest ground, ready if emergency called.  

Nicole twisted one final time in her sleeping bag before she let out a frustrated groan and rose to her feet again. Maybe a walk would help her get rid of all the adrenaline still coursing through her body, hindering her rest. So, with the excuse of going to find the bathroom, she grabbed a banana, a bottle of water and strolled away from the rest of the team.

Despite all the stories she had heard about the lake, she couldn’t deny its beauty. And at night? Everything was as breathtaking as it was eerie. It was an interesting combination, Nicole decided, though she was speaking from the comfort of her own experiences with the lake. Which had all been good in the past, when she’d visited Teagan. Except for the first time, but she’d rather not dwell on almost drowning right now.

Unsurprisingly, the walk had managed exactly the goal she had in mind, her body feeling a lot less jittery and restless once she had set a constant pace. So of course, something had to go and disturb her peace. 

Her stomach plummeted as the scent of decomposition reached her nostrils. Nicole whipped her head around, gaze trying to pin down the source. Luckily for her, there was nothing. She wasn’t in the mood to find bodies lying around. Not that there was ever a mood for that. Picking up her steps, she navigated her way back to camp, until a figure near the water caught her attention.

It couldn’t be taller than Leah. Whoever— whatever that was, they were risking a lot by standing near the edge. That’s how Nicole almost—

She had likely not concealed her steps very carefully, because the figure was alerted of her presence, twisting around and revealing its supernatural form in the process. That was no woman, it required little to no observation to gather that. But it would take a moment for Nicole to go over her mental notes to figure out exactly what type of beast she’d encountered. The creature kept its distance, though it was clearly preparing for something. 

Under no circumstances Nicole could’ve predict it was to spit something at projectile speed, aiming at her. She dodged, by the grace of her enhanced agility, but she knew it was time to run before she found out the real purpose of that substance. Just in time, however, something else appeared ready to join the “fun”, as Nicole picked up extra movement in their vicinity.  

—

A quick, easy meal, he’d thought. Some creepy little fucking humanoid skulking around the edge of the lake, unaware of the danger that lurked beneath the water. Though truth be told, Wyatt was the one in danger, though he didn’t know it. He’d seen one of these once, when he was just a little hatchling back in the bayous of Louisiana, but his mother had quickly dispatched it. He couldn’t remember much about it other than it spit something that seemed corrosive, but he was under the impression that such a defense mechanism would prove useless against his tough exterior. Surely it must, if mama had made such easy work of it!

But then things became more complicated, because there was a human (apparent) on the banks drawing its attention, and—damnit. Damnit. Wyatt didn’t make a habit of protecting random passerby from the local fauna, but his conscience got the better of him and stirred him from where he hung deathly still in the water, his crocodilian head no longer appearing like just a log in the still waters. 

The lamia slipped toward the bank with haste, scaly body rising almost silently from the water as it grew more and more shallow. The creature between them was focused on the woman, not hearing the low rumble that accompanied the parting of Wyatt’s long, deadly jaws until the lamia was almost upon it. It screeched, scrabbling through the mud to get away from him, barely escaping the loud snap of his teeth slamming together in a bite that bore no fruit. He let out an angry bellow, slithering between the stranger and the beast, challenging it to come closer. It wouldn’t, hiding in the reeds and spitting at them from a distance, an attack that the lamia was able to dodge. “Gonna have to do better than that, pig roast!” His attention briefly swung to the woman behind him, and he huffed out a breath. “You good?” 

—

Some sort of… creature rose out of the water too. Crocodile. Alligator? Fuck if Nicole knew the difference. She was too busy fucking dodging spit to examine more closely and settle that. She immediately realized she was a good distraction, though. Not something she ever wanted to be, but when the creature by the lake was too busy trying to get her instead of noticing what slithered behind, then… Nicole could try to be more distracting. She stepped away from the trees she used as cover, showing herself out in the open for the monster to get. It looked like it was working at least, until the crocodile snapped at it and it wasn’t quite the powerful bite it should’ve been. The monster slipped away, screeching in the process. Likely disturbing other wildlife lurking in the shadows. There was a moment —brief, but there— where Nicole considered whether the jaguar should join in or not. If it would be smarter to let two beasts have at the monster rather than one. 

The animal slithered to a halt outside his lake, putting himself between her and the monster, adopting a protective stance. And that should have been enough to tell Nicole that this was no ordinary animal. Dogs could be protective. Cats too, sometimes, if they got their heads out of their asses. But a crocodile? Nicole was open to the idea, strange as it was, and took this gesture as an invitation to retreat to the trees, to hide as the monster continued to shoot at them. Or she could leave and let the animal take care of the rest. That was what she was supposed to be doing before she got attacked. Running. Nicole did none of that because a voice reached her ears and froze her in the spot. 

What the fuck didn’t cover it. The crocodile—alligator, whatever the fuck hybrid spoke, checking in on her. Eyes bulging, the momentary shock made it so the monster’s spit nearly touched her. She ducked in time, again by the virtue of flexible clavicles, hearing it hit the leaves behind them. Right. There was no time for shock. She knew humans could shift into all kinds of animals. This wasn’t new. Or it was, but not in any way that should have Nicole unable to team up with…him. Her mind was spinning, but survival always came first. “Been better— got any idea what that thing is?” Not that it fucking mattered, of course. A time and place for all that. But it did matter, in a way. Nicole was no fighter, but she’d been able to get rid of dangerous creatures before, depending on their weaknesses. Leah had taught her well. Knowing where in the wide realm of Wicked’s Rest bullshit this one fit could give some indication as to how to get rid of it. Because— “Something tells me we shouldn’t let it go free”. She reached for her backpack, forgetting she wasn’t carrying her hatchet. How else was she going to defend herself? Something stabbed between her ribs, cold and demanding. The spirit. No, she wasn’t doing that. Not after it got hurt. “Can work distracting her, you’ll— you…” her forehead creased. Was she really speaking to an alligator? “You get your dinner” she mumbled without much conviction, before blowing a tense breath and moving into the spotlight.

—

“Nope! Doesn’t look as tasty up close as it did from the water, neither!” Wyatt returned, his gaze fixed on the bipedal thing trying its best to land a spit hit. “But I never turned down a new chew toy before, got no reason to start now!” He kept quiet while the stranger moved to attract the monster’s attention and try to give him a better shot at getting in there and getting a good bite on this thing, lurking in the darkness and waiting for the opportune moment. 

It came when the monster realized it wasn’t going to get anywhere just standing here, and seemed to hesitantly move away from the water and towards Nicole. It clearly was not as clever a creature as Wyatt (which was not an especially high bar), seeming to forget the scaly shifter that had almost made an appetizer of it only minutes before, focusing wholly on the dark-haired woman as it advanced forward. Wyatt took advantage of this and moved up behind it again, primed to sprint on all fours right for it once he felt the moment was right. It was getting uncomfortably close to the woman and he grit his teeth, bounding forward with more speed than one would expect from such a large shifter. 

The thing, whatever it was, might not have been clever, but it wasn’t deaf. It whipped around as the lamia barreled down upon it, a long, prehensile tongue rocketing out of its gaping mouth (ew) and shooting right for the massive alligator-creature’s throat. Wyatt felt it make contact but didn’t slow down, crashing down onto the humanoid with 2,000 pounds of weight. And that mass may have been his only saving grace, because the ustras’s venom didn’t immediately paralyze him, though he did quickly notice he was having difficulty with his flexibility. 

Sometimes, having such a large snout was a hindrance, and he couldn’t quite get a good grip on the creature. Besides that, it was stronger than it looked, holding his jaws apart while the spines on its back stabbed into his tongue and coated his mouth in a horrible, bitter taste. He tried to bite down, snorting and huffing and generally making a pretty big fuss over it as he lost more and more of his mobility. His breaths became faster, more panicked as he realized something was wrong. The tongue that’d attached itself to his neck had retreated from that spot, but he thought he felt it on the roof of his mouth, instead. 

The shifter let out a terrified bellow, and it was pretty clear he was rapidly losing the ability to defend himself. 

—

It was talking, yes. Nicole wasn’t hallucinating. Somewhat of a relief but— What the fuck? Provided she made it out alive out of this new encounter with a deadly creature, she’d have to go look into reptile shifters. The one joining forces with her tonight must’ve had such incredible control over its transformation to be able to do any of that. A wave of admiration swept through her as she held the crocodile’s gaze for a moment, though it was quickly replaced by the more familiar cocktail of guilt and shame. Whose fault was it that she couldn’t claim to have equal control over her shifts? Right. 

Nicole stepped nearer, picking up on new details on the other creature’s face. The slimy complexion, the unsettling muscles for such a small body. And the tongue, impossibly long as it was flaunted in a threatening manner. This was supposed to be good, however. The monster thought Nicole was stupid enough to get close with no plan. Perhaps it was already thinking how it was going to feed off her. But Nicole was counting on the element of surprise, even as she had to dodge another wad of spit aimed at her. She recovered just in time to see the crocodile hybrid charge at the monster. The thud shook the ground beneath her boots, but it was hardly an inconvenience when she was certain this meant the quick hashed out plan had worked and the enemy had been defeated. 

It— It didn’t look like the crocodile was winning, though. Not after the initial collision, where he had come out on top. The long-haired monster made good use of those muscles, preventing the animal's maw from delivering a final blow that surely would’ve resulted in the creature’s demise. After that, the reptile thing began struggling. Nicole noticed its lethargic movements, heard its erratic breathing, as the horrible monster proved to have more than vile spit to defend itself. Making it a tricky opponent. They had underestimated it solely on their size. Nicole should’ve known better than that. 

In the face of adversity, it was the moment to consider her options. She could run, that thought hardly ever left her. She could run and let this crocodile hybrid perish. The monster wasn’t agile enough for her, and she knew the woods well enough to lose it amid the trees. But she had this thing —a conscience— keeping her rooted to her spot. The crocodile— alligator… fuck if she knew, had intervened before, when it was Nicole’s life on the line. She should return the favor. She should return the favor not only because it was the right thing to do, but because she still believed they couldn’t let a monster like that get away and risk innocent people from stumbling upon it. A pulse, cold but insistent, struck in her chest. The jaguar wanted something. To fight. To solve this. Save her and the crocodile. She was reluctant, not so much out of fear of her own spirit anymore, but in an attempt to protect what remained of the beast. Are you sure? She asked. Another pulse in response. They had a small advantage, she figured. Knowing how the monster took down bigger predators. Her heart pounded in her ears as understanding dawned on her: It might as well be their only chance. 

Her body shook as she released a calming breath. Her muscles were still tight, shoulders still tense, but there was no time to collect herself. Nicole pleaded with the spirit for a smooth transition. And luckily for her, the jaguar was in a mood to comply. It ripped through her in an ethereal mist, its physical shift so quick, she barely registered any pain. The beast was already in motion as its paws stepped into the forest floor, leaping with coiled energy toward the monster. Feral bite found purchase in the creature’s windpipe, tearing and mangling. Gurgling noises filled the night air as the vampire released its grip on the alligator and attempted to take down the jaguar too. Two beasts against one, there was no chance it was walking out this in one piece. 

—

The corners of Wyatt’s vision darkened dangerously and he shook his great head to try to fight it off, but his movements were becoming more restricted by the moment. He couldn’t kill it. He just needed to bite down on its stupid head and rip it off, and he couldn’t. It was poisoning him, paralyzing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was helpless… and that was a new feeling. A new fear. He’d never been helpless before. He’d never lost a fight before. Never been in a position he couldn’t get himself back out of, if he really put his mind to it. Even that night that Owen had dragged him out to the woods and fed him a deer to help him heal his wounds, he would have lived if left on his own, it just might not have been pretty. But this? This thing was intent on feeding, and it would make sure there wasn’t enough left of Wyatt to heal. He was going to die, unless—

Something came barrelling into them, and suddenly the pressure of the ustra’s tongue as it tried to slip down the back of his throat was gone. His jaws fell shut, snapping loudly and allowing him to finally see what was—oh. 

There was a wildcat. Not the Wildcat, not Felix, but a cat nonetheless. Yellow, slitted eyes watched the feline tear at the throat of the creature, adrenaline dumping in his system once more as renewed hope tried to lift him from where he lay among the grass and reeds. “Rip…” Wyatt wheezed at the cat, shifting lamely in the mud. “Rip the h-head off…” It was meant to be a much more inspiring shout but he could hardly speak, let alone yell. “Watch out for… spines.. tongue.” Ugh. He had to help hold the thing still if he could—he was already succumbing to the paralysis, so what did a little more matter? With one final great burst of effort, the lamia heaved himself forward and let the weight of his head crash down on top of the ustra, pinning it to the ground across its legs and middle and leaving the head and throat exposed for the balam to take care of. 

—

The instruction was lost on the jaguar, who –at best– was able to pick up on a certain inflection in the other animal’s cry. A warning of sorts. With the momentary advantage of a disarming tackle, the jaguar examined its foe. Of course, it was no common prey. If it was prey at all. The jaguar had watched it measure up to the much larger alligator with relative ease before it intervened. So what was it? What made it a formidable opponent despite its ordinary size? The jaguar battled against a slimy composition, slippery as the monster tried getting away despite its torn throat. Dark blood oozed from the injury, coating the jaguar’s fur. It had seen something similar before. In the beast with red eyes, the one who attacked amidst the red fog. Angry about the similarities, angry about being overpowered at the time, the jaguar took it on the monster beneath. Its sharp claws sliced the head, and a screech cut through the air. 

And then the booming of a heavyweight slamming against the forest floor froze everything for a moment. The monster had been pinned down by the alligator, who had dragged himself to help. Not even the slippery build of the monster would be able to slide away now. And it seemed to be aware of its imminent demise. Poisonous spit came out aimlessly, as much as it could produce with a torn mouth, but it never landed on the jaguar. Who, wasting no time, lunged forward again, aiming to rip the head off. Viciously tearing through flesh, trying to find a tasty bit to chew on, but giving up when nothing satisfied it. What a nasty creature. What remained of the head rolled down the grass, with a look of horror plastered on its ugly features and its once dangerous tongue hanging out of its mouth. But the jaguar cared very little now, a limp body lay beneath it. This was no meal. But—

It turned toward the alligator, getting a better look at the animal. The jaguar tilted its head curiously. It wouldn’t feast on the monster, its bitter taste still coating the jaguar’s mouth, but wouldn’t the alligator be fair game? It was weakened, bordering on paralyzed. A pathetic beast on the ground. An easier prey would never be seen; rather, not of this size. The jaguar had been unlucky in past outings. The red fog, the beast that cut its tail, the giant termites, and so on. Was tonight the night it gained back its pride, its title of predator? It would be so nice, to wash the awful taste of the monster with a more enticing meal. It stalked forward, amber gaze fixed on the back of the animal’s skull. Where it could land a merciful blow. Rarely inclined to violence for the sake of it. The alligator had the human’s back after all. But something pushed underneath the surface, slowed down its movements. Tried suppressing the animal instinct, the predator impulse that made this the inevitable conclusion to the evening. 

The jaguar grumbled in protest, and unlike the time against the insects, nothing about the battle for the body was kind. Neither the human nor the spirit wanted to let go. There was no kindness or understanding between them. The human wanted control. The jaguar fought back and came out on top, for a moment. Dissuaded from taking on the alligator just yet. Its tongue dragged across razor-sharp teeth, but instead of pouncing, the jaguar approached slowly, its stump for a tail stood tall. Alert. Why would the human –Nicole, it conceded reluctantly– oppose eating it? She never had before. What the jaguar did, was the jaguar’s choice. That much they agreed on. 

But the alligator had made sounds before, hadn’t he? Was that the reason for apprehension? There was no spirit within him, so— What made it different from a common alligator? It was the moment of curiosity, of indecision that had Nicole grasping control. Holding onto consciousness, navigating through the mist, until the jaguar’s body shifted to fit her. Her eyes were wide in surprise, as the edge of the lake welcomed her back into the world. How the fuck did she do that? “What do you need?” she rasped out, a shaky hand reaching for the crocodile’s— or, well she still wasn’t sure— she touched a massive jaw, self-preservation going out of the window at the sight of the animal struggling with his body. 

—

The relief was immense as the cat ripped the stupid beast’s head off, and for a moment, Wyatt was able to relax. That is until he instinctively tried to get back to his feet, only to remember that he could not. Letting out a long, weary sigh, the gator tried to focus on the positive—at least his lungs were still working in spite of the paralytic. It’d be unfortunate if those gave out. Unable to do much else, he laid there in the muck, yellow eyes closed in an attempt to find some calm. But… what of the cat? The woman? 

He peeked with one eye and saw the balam staring at him with a look in its eye that was… unsettling. Familiar—he’d seen it enough times in the reflections of glass and water, but unsettling to be on the other side of it. His jaws parted and he let out a low, rumbling hiss—a warning to back off, as best he could convey in his current state. Something worked, because eventually the cat’s temperament seemed to even out, and then she was back. The woman from the woods. 

Her hand reached for him and he snorted, keeping his mouth open as he felt her fingers brush close to his teeth. Speaking was… proving to be a challenge. He considered shifting to look more like her, but there was a fear that if he got any smaller, the paralytic would do even more damage. All he could do was flick his gaze in the direction of the water, then back down at her. His mouth slowly closed, careful not to catch any of her phalanges, and he tried to get a few words out on the exhale. 

“Home. Warm.” His cabin was across the water, visible as pricks of golden light shining from between the trees on the distant shore. “... push.” His limbs that didn’t want to work right stirred to life, lethargic but scraping and scrabbling in the dirt as he tried to hoist himself up off his belly and drag himself closer to the water. Floating back home would be much easier... all he needed to manage was a few flicks of his tail now and then. 

—

For a second time in such a short period, Nicole had managed to revert the jaguar’s shift. How? What had changed for them to suddenly find ways to understand one another? Was she simply getting better at controlling the beast? It wasn’t the time to celebrate, however. Her chest felt chilly and tight, as if the spirit was trying to squeeze back into position. And in front of her, the crocodile —or…?— looking all too fragile for such a powerful animal. Blood pounded in her ears while she approached the beast. She kept her palm as far away from its teeth as possible, trying not to get bitten in the process. He was struggling, visibly. Bile rose in her throat watching the animal as he tried to communicate. Had the jaguar struggled similarly, with the sleeping dart? Did it put up a fight against the hunter? Tears stung in her eyes, but quickly batted them away. She couldn’t entertain those thoughts when her help was needed.

Home. As soon as he spoke, Nicole’s gaze darted to the lake. Then spotted the lights in the distance, eyebrows knitting while she contemplated the instruction. He certainly didn’t expect her to carry him all the way to the cabin. Right? She was as strong as a firefighter could be, sure, but not carrying a crocodile-alligator-human strong. So— The cabin… The water. Was he like Teagan? Could the lake heal him? Was that what— Did that make him closer to fae than to shifters like herself? Shit. Hardly mattered, didn’t it? What the reasoning behind his instruction was. He wanted to get back into the lake, that much Nicole could understand. “Okay. I will. Need a second” she nodded, pushing herself off the ground.  

Nicole felt the harsh cold against her skin as she searched around for the clothes that were left behind during the shift. Just like her previous encounter with the other jaguar, some of her clothes didn’t survive. When she returned to camp, how the fuck was she going to explain the torn pants? If the plan was to keep making impromptu shifts —her stomach weighed heavy with anxiety, disagreeing with the idea— then she would have to come up with a better system to keep her things safe. She didn't have a large closet to begin with. She couldn’t keep losing more items because of the jaguar. That would be entertaining for Leah, wouldn’t it? A quick excuse to restock her wardrobe. She mentally groaned at the idea of going shopping. She seized her pants and her windbreaker jacket, and quickly put on her clothes again, uncomfortably aware that there was a crocodile gasping and writhing not too far from her. 

But with some layers on, Nicole felt more at ease and prepared to tackle the task at hand. Pushing the animal back to the water. Couldn’t be that hard, especially with the beast trying to help despite being under the effects of the monster’s spit. She moved closer, positioning just behind him and pushed with everything she had left. He didn’t move much, or fast at all, but a few breaks to catch her breath and then finally, came the splashing sound as he slipped inside the lake. Nicole didn’t move, fear bubbling in her chest, frozen as she watched the animal get accustomed to the water. Waiting for something to go wrong. Could he even swim? But he did. He floated, slowly but surely he began moving, switching directions toward his cabin, and then drifted away.  

—

Well… he’d certainly had better hunts. In fact, this might’ve been the worst one thus far. His mother’s voice filled the silence between their joined efforts to get him back in the water. I done told ya boy, ya can’t go messin’ wid every critter ya see. ‘Specially dem ones dat ain’t in da Britannicas. Sense, ya gotta have some sense! She was right, as usual. It’d been stupid to go after that thing like he had—he just hoped the cost of his ego wasn’t permanent. 

Hissing a sigh of relief as his body finally slid into the water, the gator immediately felt somewhat better now that his own body weight wasn’t slowing him down so much, supported by his natural buoyancy. He began to drift back toward his cabin without a word, but then thought better of it. Manners. Manners n’ sense, n’ you’ll get t’rough dis world just fine, boy. 

Angling his head back in the stranger’s direction, he blinked his yellow eyes slowly like a cat might to show trust. They’d probably get that. With some effort, the lamia lifted his head more fully out of the water, parting his jaws to speak again. 

“Thanks,” he groaned. “Wyatt Barlow. Look me up. Owe you a drink.” And with that, he ducked down again so only his eyes showed above the water, flicking his tail as best he could and steering himself back toward the opposite shore. 

#. thread ; #. with ; nicole salazar #. paralyzer ;

[mudpuddle-fr]

Technically I’m too late for Fae Friday in my timezone but…

Here’s the fae that currently roam the grove of shrines! (My flight reps tab)

Belladonna - Tassel - Rosequartz - Ustra - Noxie

#flight rising #my posts #fr #flight rising fae #fae Friday

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[undertoweyes]

All of this mess is result of the mistakes we did since 1985. We didn’t punish the military for all the tortures, and especially, the horror they brought with the 1964’s coup d'etat. We didn’t punish Bolsonaro when he repeatedly attacked democracy, when he made an “”””homage””””” to President Dilma’s torture, general Ustra.

So I beg to my fellow Brazilians, it’s time for us take the streets and finally go against these bunch fascists

#brazil #latam #brazil elections #lula #Bolsonaro precisa ser preso #US #united states #arrest Bolsonaro

[ohwynne]

Vampires suck // Emilio & Wynne

PARTIES: Emilio @mortemoppetere & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Wormwoods. TIMING: Early April CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A SUMMARY: Wynne's existential late night walk is interrupted by Emilio hunting some ustras that caught their smell. An unexpected team up follows which leaves the vampires defeated.

It’d been two years since the massacre in Etla, and Emilio was still getting used to hunting alone. It hadn’t been unheard of, back home, to go out on a hunt by yourself — some things didn’t really require a group to take out, after all, and wasting resources by sending multiple hunters on an easy job didn’t make much sense — but backup had always been an option before. He’d had his siblings, his uncle, Juliana, Rhett, Gabriel. His mother, on the days when he thought she might answer if he called. 

That wasn’t the case anymore. In Wicked’s Rest, when Emilio got wind of something that needed killing, there was no one he could trust to help him kill it. But an ustra wandering the woods turning bones to mush wasn’t the kind of thing you could leave alone, and Emilio didn’t particularly feel like trying to meet any other hunters. So… he was alone. Running through the woods like a madman with a knife in one hand and a vial of holy water in the other, cursing under his breath in a string of wild Spanish. He’d come out here for one ustra, which would have been easy enough; three was a little more difficult. 

Christ, this would be a stupid way to die.

It was hard to pay attention to where he was going even with his enhanced night vision, considering he was running for his fucking life on unfamiliar terrain. That was his excuse for barreling into the kid. The force of the impact coupled with his bad leg was almost enough to topple the hunter over, but he managed to stay on his feet through sheer luck. Wild eyes darted to the kid he’d run down, and he squinted at them carefully. “You should get out of here,” he suggested. “Now.” 

—

A silent wood was more haunting than a noisy one, that much Wynne knew, and so there was some comfort in the sounds surrounding them. It was late, too late to be out on one's own perhaps — but they found themselves in need of the constant movement of walking. One foot after the other, that therapeutic and natural beat combined with the crunch of leaves, a hint of moonshine, an owl hooting, some bug crittering. It was as close to peace as they tended to get those days, at least until one of the sounds seemed less natural. Rather beyond it. 

While curious, they had very little interest in fucking around and finding out in this instance. No, Wynne preferred to apply a philosophy of fucking off and living in ignorance from time to time, and so they picked up the pace. In the back of their mind circled the thought of home, of their entity, the impending retribution that had not yet come. There was more rustling, a screech — Wynne picked up their pace, sticking to the path. Another thought popped up: what if they were imagining things again? A mind was so feeble, so easily misguided and when misguided, so easily warped. They had been straying off the beaten path these past months. 

They blamed their frazzled mind on their inability to look ahead, body colliding with another. One heading towards the (possibly-imagined) sounds. As wide eyes met wide eyes, Wynne had a sinking realisation that perhaps there really was something in the woods. “I am working on it,” they nearly exclaimed, tossing a look over their shoulder before looking back at the stranger, “Though maybe you ought to do the same?” 

—

Working on it. Good. There was some relief in that, because while Emilio had known that they were young when he’d first stumbled upon them, further inspection of the figure in front of him now affirmed the fact that they really were just a kid. Probably not much older than twenty. Definitely too young to get their bones turned to mush in the middle of the woods late at night. There was something funny about that line of thinking, coming from him. Emilio had been ready to martyr himself for his cause at twelve, was still eager for it now, but when it came to other people? He looked at them, and all he could think of was Flora. Like all the protective rage he’d felt for her hadn’t died along with her but been transported instead, passed along to anyone who was close enough to take it. This kid shouldn’t be alone in the woods in the middle of the night, but they certainly wouldn’t die here. Emilio wouldn’t let them.

It also made their concern a little… weird. Emilio let out a quiet huff of air that was half a laugh, glancing behind him where he knew the ustras were gaining. He could take them if he had a moment to think of a plan. It was just the thinking that was hard. It had never been the kind of thing he was particularly good at.

“Not really in the cards for me, kid. I don’t take these things out, somebody’s going to die.” Maybe them. “You run. I’ll make sure they don’t follow you. Okay? Go on.”

—

When they’d run from the estate, they’d felt like this. As if there was something breathing down their back, licking at their heels, slithering over the ground in their direction — Wynne had never really known what the entity they and the rest of their people owed their life to, and so it appeared to them in many shapes and sizes. That was what they imagined now, behind them and in front of the other: something that demanded, that devoured if not pleased. And while their instincts always led to obedience and no questions asked, they now looked at the other with wide, quizzical eyes.

“What are you on about?” If this was not imagined, not just their mind playing tricks on them, then there must be an explanation. “What things?” All they knew of placating hungry things was sacrifice, and that too was something they preferred outrunning. Perhaps this was their comeuppance, something demanding that they finally lay down their life as had been intended.

Wynne was tired of inaction, of blind obedience, of fear. “No, what! I’m just supposed to believe you at your word, that this is some murderous thing and let you run right at it?” Martyrdom was another thing they had tired of some time ago.

—

He didn’t have time for this. He’d been working under the assumption that, if the kid was out in the woods in the middle of the night, they knew what was out there. Evidently, it had been the wrong assumption to make. They were lucky, Emilio figured, that he was the one who’d stumbled upon them; someone else might have used that ignorance against them, weaponized it and made it into an advantage. 

But… they weren’t too lucky. A little luckier, and they might have been met with someone who knew how to explain why he was running, someone who could give them a real answer without freaking them out. Emilio didn’t know how to do that. His experience with kids had always been hunter kids. Tiny, deadly things who learned about creatures of the night before they learned to walk. Kids in their twenties who didn’t know what they were running from in the woods at night were far, far out of Emilio’s wheelhouse. 

“Just… Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. Just go.” He waved a hand at them, as if trying to usher them forward. It was just his luck that they didn’t move. Instead, they looked at him. Or… maybe that wasn’t quite right. It felt more like they looked through him, with how accurately they managed to call him out. And god, he didn’t have time for that, either. “Even if I were, it wouldn’t be for you to worry about. Would it? I’m a stranger. What does it matter if I run at some murderous thing? You worry about yourself, kid.”

—

Wynne had been a little under a decade when their predecessor had stepped onto the Protherian’s altar and met their honorable fate. Blood had dripped onto the earth and mixed with the dried flowers and fruits that lay at its feet. Sacrifice was the highest honor for a living person amongst their people: to offer one's life for the betterment of that of others. A mantra they’d learn to live by in subsequent years, never quite able to forget the look in that boy’s eyes before he’d risen to his fateful task. There was honor in martyring oneself  — there was a point to it, a higher purpose, or so the lessons went. Or so they told them, braiding flowers in their hair. 

Whether it was bullshit or not, Wynne wasn’t sure: but they had turned from that purpose all the same. While still unsure what to do with this, this time they had never thought they’d have — they did know this: sacrifice seemed meaningless. It didn’t rule most people’s lives the way it had theirs and their family. And they all seemed fine. Wynne themself seemed fine, with their heart still beating and nothing having come to collect what they were owed. Yet. Unless this was it.

So to let a stranger run into uncertain death went against newfound instinct and philosophy. And though Wynne wasn’t sure who they were any more, they did know they didn’t want to be a coward again. That there were certain principles solidifying in their mind they wished to cling to. “It’s clearly not nothing, and what is it with your people’s insistence on not caring about those around you?” They all needed a lesson on living more community-minded, but now was hardly the time for such a rant. “Of course it matters! So what is it, out there, and why are we not both running?”

—

They were stubborn. The kind of stubborn that dug its heels into the sand and refused to move until it got whatever it was it wanted, the kind of stubborn that never accepted an answer that wasn’t what it wanted to hear, the kind of stubborn that got people killed and left the world around them a little bit emptier because of it. Stubborn was only ever useful until it wasn’t, was a virtue up until the exact moment it became a vice. And that moment was fast approaching now, hot on the slayer’s heels. He’d led it right to them without meaning to, carved a perfect path through the woods and straight to those heels dug firmly into the sand. 

He couldn’t be responsible for what happened next, couldn’t be the reason this thing found them when it might not have otherwise. Emilio had gotten enough kids killed already; he didn’t need to add another one to the damn list. But how could he get them to go when they were so insistent on staying? His personal brand of stubborn had been waning since the massacre in Mexico. It was so much easier to give in, these days.

But he wanted this kid safe, and that lit something up in his chest. There were parts of him that had been dark for years now, but they still glowed sometimes. Maybe he wasn’t a father in any kind of way that counted anymore, but the instincts still remained. “I am trying,” he ground out, “to take care of the people around me. That’s what I’m trying to do. That’s why I told you to — I don’t have time for this. You’re running because you’re a kid. I’m not running because I’m an adult. How is that, hm? Is that good?”

—

The human instinct to live was strong in Wynne — strong enough to defy what they had been taught all their life, to turn their back on a family, a community, a demon. And yet here they stood, feet rooted into the ground, staring at someone larger, older and presumably much wiser than them (though the bar was low, in that regard), refusing. Instincts went head to head, mixed with a rising panic in their chest and Wynne told themself that they had been selfish before and could do it again. Why care about this stranger, when they had abandoned their family to certain death only months ago?

There was so much they didn’t know and understand about the scene unfolding around them and maybe it would be good to trust that the other knew what he was doing. But Wynne’s chest was already so tight with guilt, these days, and as they heard another screech their stomach only sank. What was left, then, besides truth? If that was even what it could be called, though Wynne felt that it was reality. There were little other explanations, now were there?

“No, not good — see, I think it wants me, whatever it is,” they said, as the sounds grew closer. It was either that or the world was filled with more cruel creatures than the one they had once answered to. They weren’t sure which was preferable. Wynne’s head whipped back once more, then looked at the other. “How do I know it’ll be alright? I don’t —” There was a sharp intake of breath. “Won’t let you just run to your death, no matter how old you are.”

—

I think it wants me. The statement was perplexing, and Emilio furrowed his brow. As far as he knew, ustras were opportunists. They didn’t target anyone specifically, didn’t track people down without reason. They were only chasing him because he’d tried to kill them; it was more self preservation than pursuit, on their part. The idea that they were looking for this kid, specifically, didn’t make much sense to him. It was probably just a bit of confusion on their part, and he knew it, but… They said it with such conviction. With certainty. Like they had some reason to believe it.

Like something, somewhere was after them, even if it wasn’t this. 

Emilio studied them for a moment despite not really having the time, eyes darting over their face as he tried to puzzle out what it was that might be after them. Fae had a tendency to hyperfocus on a single victim sometimes, didn’t they? Was it something like that? Those were always the monsters he felt least capable of dispatching. He’d been fighting the undead all his life, and he’d taken it upon himself to learn more about shapeshifters and beasts when he and Juliana got together, but he’d always left the fae to the wardens. If there was something like that after this kid, he wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to help them.

(And there was never any question, in Emilio’s mind, as to whether or not he would help them. There was a kid, and they needed someone. He didn’t need any more reason than that.)

His train of thought was abruptly cut off by the screech of one of the approaching ustras, and he cursed quietly. “Listen to me,” he said, gripping the kid’s shoulders and lowering himself to meet their eyes with a determined gaze. “These things are not after you. Okay? They’re after me. I still think you should leave. But if you’re not going to, you can help, yes?” He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, pulling out a particularly sharp knife and holding it out with the handle towards them. “They will try to attack you from far away. Don’t let them get you with their tongue, or their spit. Get in close, and use this. Their skin is easy to cut. I just need you to distract them, then get away when I say. Make sure you get away. Fire is the best way to kill them, so… I am going to do that.” The lighter in his pocket wasn’t the best weapon in his arsenal, but if he fashioned a torch out of a few items on the forest floor, the ustras would go up easily enough.

—

Their chest was moving up and down on its own accord, breaths moving faster than was typical. Back at home, when this would happen, they’d press their hands on their collarbones and hum a hymn, breathe in tandem with those present — but home was no more and this was hardly the place. They just looked at the other, and he looked back and it felt for a moment like they stood there like that forever. Not exactly sizing each other up the way predators would, but more like two kinds of prey who responded differently to being cornered. Wynne had fawned and freezed and fled before, and it seemed the other only had one answer. Fight, alone.

Wynne swayed from the impact of his hands on their shoulders, head drooping slightly now that he was meeting them at the same height. There was something steady about it, the way he looked at them and spoke, and yet they still felt unsteady. A gust of air escaped their mouth, the one they’d been holding. Even if he was right, and it wasn’t after them, Wynne was starting to be aware of one thing: they’d rather risk their chances with this stranger, than leg it. Out of both selfishness and selflessness, if such a thing was possible. And while for a moment, they did stare at the knife, they eventually closed their fingers around it. They tried very hard not to think about the moon’s reflection on its blade, how similar it looked to blades wielded before. That had always been to earthly, normal creatures though.

“Okay.” The echo of his question was too late, but it was there. “Okay.” They press the palm of their hand against their chest for a moment, breathing in and out. Whatever was out there was gaining on them, the absence of owls hooting and other night-critters moving more and more absent. Wynne backed away a little, turning around to face the direction the unnatural sounds came from. The knife was held in front of them, clumsily. “What is it, out there?” It was the only question they knew to ask, besides all the other ones dizzying their head — like why he was out there, or how he knew, and if he, by any chance, knew anything about demons, and why they couldn’t just run and get to a place where the door could be barred and Wynne could level their breathing. Maybe they had wasted their opportunity to run, though, through loitering and arguing. 

That much turned out to be true when Wynne saw it, in the distance. Something white and slimy, gaining ground on them. 

—

It wasn’t anything like staring at a mirror, looking at them. Their eyes were wide in a way he didn’t think his had ever been, their chest moving rapidly in a way his did, sometimes, but not in situations like this. Panic, for Emilio, didn’t come when the danger was near. The idea of dying was never the thing that set him off. He knew how to handle things that wanted to kill him, had made peace with the inevitability of it so long ago that he no longer knew what it felt like to not accept the possibility. No, Emilio found unsteady ground in the mundane moments. Buying groceries, walking the dog, having a conversation. Life or death situations made sense to him. It was the situations that were life alone that always managed to throw him terribly off balance. 

They weren’t much like Flora, either, if he was being honest. She’d been so young when she’d died, but already she’d carried some of that weight that all hunters bore. Already she’d known what lived in the shadows. Emilio didn’t know if she’d been afraid of it. That kept him up sometimes, the not knowing. The idea that, when she’d died, she’d died afraid. He couldn’t change it either way now, couldn’t comfort someone who was already gone. But… maybe he could do something for this kid instead. Make their breaths come a little easier, make that look in their eyes a little less haunted even if it was only for this moment, even if he never saw them again. You couldn’t save everyone, but sometimes you could hand them a knife. Sometimes you had to pretend that it was the same thing.

“Okay,” he said again, nodding his head. They took the knife, and he turned back towards the approaching noise. At their question, he grimaced. “Easier to tell you after, I think. Don’t worry about it now. When we’re finished, I can explain.” Knowing what they were fighting wouldn’t do anything for them except for perhaps make them a little more afraid. Knowing you were fighting a monster didn’t really make the fighting any easier. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, okay? We just have to finish it first.” They just had to survive it first.

The approaching ustras cut off anything else he might have said, and Emilio had to hope that the kid could sufficiently distract them while he fashioned a torch. They were far enough from the water now that they’d already be beginning to dry out, so setting them aflame shouldn’t be too difficult. If he got close enough to them, they’d go up easy. He picked up a stick from the forest floor, ripping the sleeve off his shirt with his teeth and soaking the fabric in some of the alcohol from his flask to make it more flammable, glancing up to see how the kid was faring. 

—

Wynne had known they would die young at the age of ten. That much had been predetermined for them, even before they were born, and for a decade they had accepted that reality. A certain future ahead. It was to be a short but meaningful life, more meaningful than anyone could ever hope to live — and yet here they were, breathing in and out, so awfully alive and so horribly aware of it. Their chest ached with it. Their heart hammered with it. Maybe this, whatever this creature was, was fate catching up with them, but did it matter? The most primal of instincts surged through them: the instinct to live. The refusal to die by some grander design. Half a year ago, it had pushed them towards theft and escape, and today it pushed them to hold a knife a little tighter.

None of that to say that they weren’t afraid and feeling incredibly out of their depth, but adrenaline was making itself known. They gave a nod of their head. “Okay.” There was no time for preparation, no time to wield their knife and consider the best way to use it. Wynne had used a hunter’s knife before, albeit only on smaller creatures, prey animals that needed skinning or draining. There was no time to reconsider. 

The creatures came closer and Wynne recalled the other’s words, attempting to duck out of sight. Get in close, he’d said, and while instincts begged them to run or hide, to throw themself flat against the ground, they pushed themself forward through the cover overgrowth. A yelp of shock slipped past their lips as they got a better look at the creatures – three of them, looking significantly different than the demon they answered to – and it was enough to draw them in. It hadn’t been their intention to do as much, but it did seem to align with what the stranger had asked of them.

A slashing movement with the knife did little except cut some leaves of a bush, and Wynne yelped once more as a big wad of saliva was spit their way. Instinctively, they ducked to the side, rolling over the ground. Crawling on all fours, they moved forward, bringing down the knife in one of their feet — or perhaps paws was the better word. 

—

Was it better, Emilio wondered, to be handed a knife you didn’t know how to use, or to be raised with one in your hand? With Flora, he’d been petrified at the idea of raising her the way he’d been raised, terrified of his daughter ending up anything like him, of her feeling the things he felt. But was this better? To be handed a knife when the fight was too close to train for, to be given the barest instruction without time for anything more? Flora died defenseless after all, unable to do even the bare minimum to protect herself, unable to stall for time until Emilio arrived. If you refused to give a child a knife until they needed it, were you protecting them or dooming them? He didn’t know. He still didn’t know. And he hated himself, just a little, for that.

He kept an eye on them as he prepared his torch, heart pounding in his chest with something that might have been adrenaline and might have been that old fear that he’d never quite gotten rid of. It was clear they weren’t trained, but they weren’t dead yet, either. He just needed them to hold up until…

There. With the torch properly prepped, Emilio flicked his lighter, flames licking the soaked fabric as he rushed forward. “All right, kid, move,” he yelled, motioning for them to get back. He needed them away from the ustras when he set them aflame, otherwise he ran the risk of burning them up along with the monsters. And that was just about the last thing he wanted to do here.

—

There was a crunch beneath their movement, the creature’s foot-or-paw giving way for the knife. They had no time to register it to its full extent, and were only wise enough to pull the weapon back and hold onto it. It wasn’t in Wynne’s nature to attack, but it seemed to be in everyone’s nature to fight to stay alive. They tightened their grip on the weapon once more, but it seemed like another strike was not needed.

What they had, albeit unconsciously, been waiting for was thrown their way: the demand to get out of the way, to let the real adult get to work. Wynne didn’t know how to do most of the things expected of them, let alone fight a creature they had never seen before. They clambered up to their feet and ran, creating distance between themselves and the monsters as the licking flames the other had produced lit the scene. 

In the newly gained light, the creatures were more horrifying and Wynne let out a sound without meaning to. It sounded nearly as animalistic as the things in front of them, but they soon realised one thing: this wasn’t gythraul, unless It had taken a different form and changed itself into three separate entities. This was something else entirely and that made the earth beneath their feet feel shaky. They backed away more, heartbeat rising again, their eyes pulled toward the flames and the person they hoped knew what he was doing. 

—

The kid was quick on their feet, and Emilio took a moment to be grateful for it as he moved in. Almost as soon as the command to move was out of his mouth, it was being followed. Like they’d been waiting on it, like they’d never wanted to fight at all, like he’d put a knife in the hand of a kid who’d never had to hold one like this because that was the only thing he’d ever known how to do. The kid was quick on their feet, but they shouldn’t have had to be. A better hunter wouldn’t have led the fight right to them. Emilio knew that.

But there was no changing that now. All he could do was move forward, was lower that torch to one ustra and let it light the rest up. He was lucky they’d gotten so dried out, lucky they stood close together as they prepared to attack. It made the getting rid of them that much easier, ensured they all went up like a goddamn pile of dry leaves in a summer drought. Flames rose up from the creatures as they screamed, inhuman sounds mingling with the kid’s distressed noise. Emilio swallowed, feeling guilty, somehow, feeling like he’d made a mistake, like he’d broken something in a new way when it was already in pieces. 

After a few moments, the screaming died down. The figures collapsed, one by one, and Emilio moved towards them, stomping out the smaller flames and tossing his jacket over the larger ones until the fire was out. Sweat pricked the back of his neck, but he didn’t know if it was from the heat or the nausea tugging at his gut as he avoided looking at the terrified kid, the one that was backing farther and farther away from him. He’d saved them. Kept them alive in the face of danger that probably wouldn’t have found them to begin with if he hadn’t led it right to them. Did he celebrate that, or mourn it? Was this a win, or another loss to add to the pile? He ached with the fact that he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. 

“It’s all right,” he told the kid, even if he wasn’t really sure it was true. “They’re done now, see? Can’t hurt anybody anymore. You, uh… You did good. With the distraction. You did a good job.”

—

As the flames licked up and up and up, devouring the creatures with no name, Wynne backed away. Trembling fingers held onto the knife as their footsteps moved further into the woods until their shoulders hit a tree. There, they moved to sink down, resting hands on their knees as their mind attempted to play catch-up on what had just occurred. On what it implied. They had known there was more to this world than the rest of the world might prefer to believe, but this hadn’t been in any of their teachings. This opened up a world of terrifying possibilities.

They watched the other get to work methodically, as if he had done this before. How exhausting it was becoming, to constantly feel out of their depth, to always feel like they were on the outside looking into something they didn’t get. But where in most situations Wynne wanted to know, had to know — they weren’t so sure if they wanted to now. Maybe it would have been best if they had just run, had chosen to look away and drown in ignorance once more. And they told themself that they were okay with not knowing. That they could live on without finding out what their actions had led to, back on the estate. But it woke them up in the middle of the night and sometimes they had to hide in the back from the store as doom-scenarios appeared to them. What good had ignorance ever done for them? 

When the stranger addressed them, they became aware of how they were sitting there. Wynne tried to relax, to not seem like they were on the verge of tears. They had been good at this once: keeping composure. It had been expected of them. But they weren’t sure what was expected of them any more, these days. “They’re gone,” they confirmed, staring at the smoke for a moment. They pushed themself up, moving towards the other and extending the knife handle first. There was still something dripping off it. Wynne wasn’t sure if it could be called blood. “What were they?” If ignorance had never done them any favors, why not ask? Even if the answer might unsettle them more. 

They looked over their shoulder, back to the path. At least their sense of navigation still remained. “Can we go?” 

—

The kid looked terrified. Emilio couldn’t imagine how it felt, seeing something like that for the first time. He couldn’t remember the first undead thing he’d seen, couldn’t even clearly remember the first undead thing he’d been expected to fight. His mother had insisted on starting her children off in training so early that there were days where it felt as if Emilio had been born with a stake in his hand, fending off vampires in his crib. To have your eyes opened at this age, and in this way… He didn’t envy them. All those years of ignorance didn’t seem much like bliss when this was how that ignorance ended. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to comfort them, either. Flora had been easy — she’d been so young, and already seen so much. She wasn’t afraid of the monsters under her bed because she’d been taught their names from an early age, even if Emilio had refused to train her the way his mother had trained him. She’d known, from the beginning, that there were people in her life who’d protect her from the things that went bump in the night. She’d known it was what those people were there for. (And Emilio hadn’t. When it counted, he hadn’t protected her at all. He tried not to think about that, even when it was hard to think of anything but.)

Reaching forward, he took the knife from the kid and wiped the blade on his pants before offering it back to them. “You should keep it,” he told them. “You might need it down the line, right?” At the question, he sighed. He had promised to explain things to them, hadn’t he? “They’re called ustras. Most of the time, you find them near water, but these ones were after me. I got into their nest, riled them up. They’d been causing problems in the area. They’re dangerous. Kill people. So… I try to take them out, when I can. That’s what I do.” How much could he tell them without terrifying them further? Where was the line between providing them with the knowledge they might need to protect themself and frightening them so completely that they’d never want to move again? He wished he knew.

A little surprised at the question’s wording — we? He would have thought they’d be looking to get as far away from him as possible. — Emilio hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m done. It’s safe.”

—

The world had been so limited, back home. It had felt wide and vast back when they’d been in it, but since their running off they had quickly realized that the world was wider and vaster than they could have ever imagined. It had started with libraries and language, media and internet, the fashion and the attitudes and the individualistic ways of living. But then it continued, the snowball of learning new things continuing to roll and roll and roll. Perhaps Wynne should be used to shock, by now, but their body still shook. They still weren’t sure how to digest this world.

Their curiosity helped, offering answers when people wanted to give them and otherwise pushing them towards research. The other offered an answer, twisting his mouth to speak a word they had never heard before: ustras. Creatures who killed people. Creatures this person killed. Wynne's mind did what it had done so much before: it played catch up. Took the information it was given and tried to make it into something digestible. All this while the other offered them the sharp knife back.

They stared at it for a moment before taking it back. Wynne didn't ask what they might need it for down the line. They just imagined handmade leather wrapped around it, to keep it safe. They missed Osian, who could shape leather into anything useful. "Right," they said, a beat too late. "Thanks." If this is what he did, then maybe — but their mind didn't want to go there. To that area where they began to wonder what the gythraul might have done to their family and loved ones since their escape. Even calling it that – escape – was almost too big an ask. "Just them?" The question did fall out of their mouth in the end, curiosity insatiable. Once, they had been taught that greed of any kind (which included that for information) always came at a price. They tried to form a more fitting response. "Ustras. Us-tras. Okay."

There was some hesitation in the other and Wynne tried not to see themself in it. "Okay." The knife was still in their hand. They didn't want to just stick it in their pocket. "Okay, let's go." They started to walk, back to where they should have never left. "I'm Wynne." That seemed only fair. To offer a name, after all this.

—

The kid took the knife back, wrapped their hand around the handle with only a moment’s hesitation, and Emilio wasn’t sure if that feeling in his stomach was relief or dread. It was better, he thought, that they had something to protect themself in this town. It was better that they had something sharp and deadly, but god, he wished they didn’t have to. He wished they lived in a world where kids like this never had to learn about things like that, wished they lived in a world where his own daughter could have grown to be this age without scars, without training, without dying long before she ever got the chance to be anything at all. 

But that world didn’t exist. This kid had gotten a good twenty years of living without knowing what undead things went bump in the night, and they were lucky it hadn’t killed them. If Emilio hadn’t been here, maybe it would have this time. Because even if he hadn’t unintentionally led the ustras to them, something would have found them in these woods eventually. Something always did. The dozens of missing persons cases that came across his desk destined to end in tragedy were proof enough of that.

“No,” he admitted quietly, glancing back at the ash that was left where the ustras had been, “not just them. I can tell you about all of it, kid, but not tonight. Not here.” There were more things in these woods than what they’d just teamed up to kill, and Emilio was tired. Maybe not physically — it took more than a fight of this magnitude to wear him out, even when he was running on very little sleep — but mentally. Emotionally. Kids always did that to him, always ripped out whatever was left of the thing in his chest and stomped it into the dirt. It wasn’t their fault, of course; it was no one’s fault but Emilio’s. He’d always been a little too soft. His mother had always been quick to point that out.

He hesitated only a moment before falling in step beside them, shoulders a little stiff as if he was carrying something on them, as if he had been for years now. When they offered him their name, he put it away in that back corner of his mind, pausing a moment before replying. “Emilio.” Might as well share it. “I’d say it’s good to meet you, but I think it might have been better if we’d met some other way.”

—

The woods were dark around them and the regular sounds had returned and Wynne was overtaken by a feeling of familiar fatigue. Adrenaline made place for weariness, for the feeling they kept coming back to. How much more of this? This feeling out of their depth, this wondering if this was a better way of living in the first place. And yet their heart hammered with it, their state of aliveness. Death could have come for them today, the way it should have come for them half a year ago and once more they had escaped.

It didn’t make them smile or celebrate, but it made them clutch that knife a little tighter. A blade would have been their undoing and now they had wielded one. They look at the other, at his offer to answer questions even if not tonight. Wynne gave a small nod of their head, swallowing questions of whether he knew of demons. They weren’t sure they wanted answers, anyway, to expose themself in such a way. 

“That’s okay. It’s late.” It had to be, by now. It had been late when Wynne had left home, their legs too restless to rest and their mind running rounds around itself. This had not helped the situation, even if there was a part of them that was sure that if they were to sink down now, they would never get up. They longed for their bedroom, the four walls of it. The privacy to whimper and breathe faster than good for their lungs. They longed for a shower. They longed for — no, they refused to do that. To long for home. Their brother, maybe they’d afford themself that: to long for his friendship and comfort.

Perhaps it was naivety, they did consider that reality, but Wynne decided to trust the other. At least for this walk out of the woods and at least enough to try and find him again, if their curiosity stuck with them. “Likewise. On both fronts.” They checked their phone, pulling up their map. “I’m not too far from here.”

—

There would be no questions tonight and, oddly, Emilio found that he didn’t entirely dread the future in which they would appear. He wasn’t much of a talker — anyone who knew him well could attest to that. He wasn’t entirely comfortable in English, wasn’t even entirely at home in Spanish. He’d been taught action over words, and it was a lesson that stuck. Often times, the latter failed him. How did you explain something you’d understood from the time you knew your own name? How did you teach someone things that had always been inherently true for you? He wasn’t sure he knew. 

And yet, somehow, he thought he might try to figure it out. For this kid, for the next one. He couldn’t save his kid, but he could save someone’s. Maybe if he did enough of that, that ache in his chest might feel a little less unbearable someday. 

(He didn’t believe it, even as the thought occurred to him. Nothing could make this bearable. Nothing.) 

Offering Wynne a small nod, he gestured for them to go ahead. “I’m not, either. I’ll walk you. Make sure nothing else comes up.” He couldn’t promise them tomorrow in a town like this, but… He could promise that he’d do everything he could do to make sure they made it home safe tonight. That he could do.

#threads. #vampires suck. #emilio. #i would say thank u bex for writing with me but u stomped on my heart so many times that im not sure if im grateful #<3 jk this was so fun #wickedswriting

[insxghtt]

Babes, I’ve seen what’s happening in Brazil. Stay safe! Also I’ve seen some news that META purposefully blocks all posts about Brazil…

Thank you for worrying, things in here are really tough. Yesterday I went to a protest in the Paulista Avenue in São Paulo and it helped me a lot to stay hopeful.

For those of you who don't know, Bolsonaro supporters invaded and destroyed the Alvorada Palace, the oficial residence of the president. They called it a protest, when in reality it was terrorism and an attack on democracy. Those are the same people that did the n4zi salute and refused to accept the result of the elections.

I've seen people compare what is happening in Brazil to what happened in the USA when Trump lost to Joe Biden and I understand that the comparison makes it easier to understand, but it's important to know that this situation was already predicted by anyone who studied brazilian history. It was only a matter of time and if we keep ignoring the real reason behind this, it won't stop. So, i'll try to explain a little more about it in a simple way.

Brazil went through a military dictatorship that began in 1964 and ended in 1985. During this time, innocent people were killed by the military. The opposition was silenced, censured, women were raped, people were tortured. Those who were against it and survived were lucky, but many lost friends. Til this day, many people were never found. Our current president, elected by the people in a honest election, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (Lula), was one of the people who fought against the military. He was chased and tortured but he survived and because of people like him, we are now living in a democracy.

The fact that we don't talk about the military dictatorship is why some people don't even recognize it as a dictatorship. Many people still defend it. Bolsonaro defended it. He was a huge supporter of the military and already gave many interviews saying that the military's only mistake was "not killing enough". After the end of the dictatorship no museums were made in memory of the victims. Supporters and even some tortures like Colonel Ustra were never arrested.

Lula was president from 2003 to 2011. After he left the presidency, Dilma Rousseff was elected the first female president of Brazil. She was one of his great friends and also part of the same political party as him, the Worker's Party (in portuguese: Partido dos Trabalhadores, PT).

Dilma also fought against the military with Lula. She was also tortured and luckily survived (and without ratting out any of her teammates!!). She was president from 2011 to 2016. In 2016, she suffered a political coup. They called it an impeachment but 94,7% of the  congressmen who voted her out were being investigated for corruption because of her. There was no reason for an impeachment, there were no proves that she was corrupt. Her mistake was to try to fight them all at once.

On the day of the coup, we saw what Bolsonaro was capable of for the first time. At that time he was a congressmen and he voted her out. During his speech, he said "In memory of Colonel Carlos Alberto Brilhante Ustra, the fear of Dilma Rousseff, for the Army of Caxias, for the Armed Forces, for Brazil above all and God above everyone, my vote is yes".

Carlos Alberto Brilhante Ustra, the torturer.

“In this case of the Teles family, which is a terrible case because the parents of Edson Teles and Janaina Teles, at the time Edson was 4 years old and Janaina 9, they were brutally tortured and the children were taken to the premises of the Doi-Codi and saw people tortured and their parents hurt. At first they did not recognize them. They stayed there for a while without the presence of any relatives and no known person being used as a bargaining chip so that the parents, Amelinha Teles and César Teles, could say what they [torturers] wanted to hear”, said the professor, José Carlos Moreira da Silva.

This was the man that Jair Bolsonaro, who would later become president of Brazil, paid tribute to. The saying “for Brazil above all and God above everyone” was also a reference to the Nazi propaganda, in Hitler's Germany, "Deutschland über alles" which, in English, means "Germany above all".

Bolsonaro was not arrested after that. Nothing ever happened to him. That was when it all began.

Dilma was betrayed by her own vice-president, Michel Temer. She was publicly humiliated by senators, congressmen and the media.

Elections finally arrived and people who saw what was really happening had a glimmer of hope. But then the worst happened.

On April 7, 2018, Sergio Moro, friend of Bolsonaro and then federal judge, illegally arrested Lula for the crimes of passive corruption and money laundering in the criminal action involving a triplex in Guarujá with absolutely no proves. They had nothing on Lula but, if he was arrested, he couldn’t run in the elections and the Worker’s Party would not return to power. Lula da Silva peacefully turned himself in to the Federal Police after making a public speech.

“There’s no use in trying to stop me from traveling around this country, because there are milions of Lulas, Boulos, Manuelas and Dilma Rousseffs to do it for me. There’s no use in trying to stop my ideas. They’re already in the air, and you can’t imprison them! There’s no point in trying to stop my dreams, because when I stop dreaming, I’ll be dreaming throgh your minds and dreams! There’s no point in thinking everything’s going to stop the day Lula has a heart attack. That’s nonsense! Because my heart will be beating through yours and there are milions of hearts! The powerful can kill one, two, or a haundred roses. But they’ll never stop the arrival of spring and our fight is in search of spring!”, said Lula, before turning himself in.

In 2018, The Worker’s Party decided to put Fernando Haddad on Lula’s place. They tried their best, but Haddad didn’t have the same power that Lula had. Bolsonaro won and, in 2019, he took over.

Lula was released on November 8, 2019, one day after the Federal Supreme Court considered the arrest in second instance unconstitutional. The UN Human Rights Committee (United Nations) concluded that Sergio Moro was partial in the trial of Lava Jato cases against him. It was also considered that his political rights were injured when he was prevented from running in the 2018 elections.

Now, we have the opportunity to change that. How? By talking about the military dictatorship, giving visibility to all victims, recognizing our history, punishing those who threaten our democracy without forgiveness. And to finish, i want to remind you of something we all heared in school at least once: “Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it.”

Sem anistia e sem perdão.

#brazilian elections #brazil #politics #brazilian culture #LulaPresidente #lula #brasil #sem anistia #fora bolsonaro #fuck bolsonaro #democracy #writers on tumblr #luiz inacio lula da silva #president lula #partido dos trabalhadores #dilma rousseff #o povo quer o bolsonaro na prisão #bolsonaro preso #president dilma #dilma #writing

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil court denies fact-checker’s plea to dismiss criminal complaint filed by fake news site

A 2020 article by Aos Fatos found that Jornal da Cidade Online had ties to the widow of Carlos Ustra, the first military officer convicted for torture and kidnapping during Brazil's dictatorship

The State Court of Rio de Janeiro in Brazil has denied the request of a fact-checker to dismiss the criminal complaint filed against him by a fake news site that his organization had investigated.

Jornal da Cidade Online earlier filed criminal complaints against Aos Fatos executive director Tai Nalon, accusing him of “defamation and unfair competition for investigating the dissemination and monetization of fake news by the website,” Aos Fatos said in a statement.

Aos Fatos is a signatory to the International Fact-Checking Network at Poynter. Founded in 2015, Aos Fatos has “established themselves as a reference in fact checking in Latin America” and has become “known for producing tools for battling disinformation” according to Poynter.

Jornal da Cidade Online is a website currently under investigation by Brazil’s Superior Electoral Court and the Supreme Federal Court for “participating in and financially benefiting from disinformation campaigns” according to Aos Fatos. 

The case stems from an April 2020 investigative article of Aos Fatos, which revealed that Jornal da Cidade Online “shared monetization tools and strategies via Google AdSense with a series of portals including Verdade Sufocada, maintained by the widow of Colonel Carlos Alberto Brilhante Ustra,” according to an Aos Fatos statement.

The article has been censored since June 2023 following a decision by the Court of Justice of Rio Grande do Sul. 

Continue reading.

#brazil #politics #fake news #journalism #brazilian politics #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[astercomoasflores]

On November 15, 1889 there was the Proclamation of the Republic in Brazil through a coup. During the next 5 years Brazil was governed exclusively by the military and the period is considered a dictatorship.

We were born, as a republic, as a dictatorship.

From 1937 to 1945 we had another dictatorship, that of Getúlio Vargas, who was nicknamed Father of the Poor and Mother of the Rich. He is a controversial figure in Brazilian history because, despite being a dictator, he was and still is very popular. So much so that years later he was democratically elected and governed the country from 1951 to August 24, 1954, when he committed suicide.

Something I find very interesting about Getúlio Vargas is the letter he wrote, which gave his death a grandiose tone, like a hero who dies in a Greek tragedy. He portrayed himself as a martyr. In his words, "Nothing remains except my blood. I gave you my life, now I give you my death. I choose this way to defend you, for my soul will be with you, my name shall be a flag for your struggle.(...) Serenely, I take my first step on the road to eternity and I leave life to enter History."

Then there was the Military Dictatorship, which began on April 1, 1964 with the support of the United States of America, with the justification that they were protecting the country from the communists. It was a dark and violent period, marked by the loss of rights, torture, persecution, censorship. It lasted until 1985.

In less than 100 years Brazil has gone through three Dictatorships, none as inhuman and violent as the most recent one. And people ask for it back. They extol torturers as if they were heroes. I will never understand this. I will never accept that the first president elected by the people after Dilma, who fought against the dictatorship and was tortured, is the same man who said that Ustra, a torturer, was a hero.

But that's not the point. What I really want to talk about is the music produced in 1964-1985.

Cálice (Chico Buarque and Milton Nascimento).

“Pai, afasta de mim esse cálice”, translated to “Father, take from me this chalice” is a reference to a biblical passage.

Cálice sounds exactly like “Cale-se”, so the phrase is "pai, afasta de mim esse cálice" traduzido para “father, take from me this shut up”. A great pun, in my opinion. Here the “shut up” refers to oppression and censorship.

About the singers: both were censored several times during the Dictatorship. Buarque was exiled and Milton Nascimento was unable to see his son for almost 20 years, if he contravened these orders the military would kill his son.

Pra não dizer que não falei das flores (Geraldo Vandré)

This song is an invitation to popular revolt. No one was going to overcome oppression by carrying flowers. The idea of "peace and love" does not make a revolution. It does not prevent people from being tortured and killed. Geraldo Vandré also opted for exile. Fleeing the country was safer than staying.

"Along the fields there is hunger Even with abundant plantations And in the streets, Streams of doubtful people Who still take a flower As the strongest symbol of their convictions People who still believe that Flowers can put down the rage of guns

Come on, let's go away Because it's not wise to be waiting for The wise does not let the chance pass by He never waits for it to come

We see armed soldiers Some of them were ever loved, others were not Most are equally lost Holding a gun in hand In the headquarters, they are taught of That old pretty lesson 'To die for the sake of the Land' But to go on without an opinion"

Mosca na Sopa (Raul Seixas)

Raul Seixas wrote this song to mock the Military Dictatorship. He represented himself as the fly, because he always bothered the military. Raul Seixas was tortured and exiled.

“I am the fly that landed on your soup I am the fly that got here to abuse you I am the fly that landed on your soup I am the fly that got here to abuse you I am the fly that landed on your soup I am the fly that got here to abuse you I am the fly that disturbs your sleep I am the fly that is flying around in your room I am the fly that disturbs your sleep I am the fly that is flying around your room And don't even bother coming to kill me Cause I'm resistent even to DDT Because you kill one and then another one comes to replace me”.

There are many other songs, but I made this text without planning and I wanted to post it soon. Maybe I'll put others later. The translations of the lyrics of the songs were taken from internet sites, which I consider safer sources than I do.

#dictatorship #military dictatorship #brazil #1964 #music #raul seixas #chico buarque #milton nascimento #geraldo vandré #Mosca na sopa #Cálice #Pra não dizer que não falei das flores

[skemtebord]

Seil Ustra (Nucifero)

#art #digital art #ibispaintdrawing #oc artwork

[thefabhawkart]

Commission for Ustra over on Twitch! I had a lof ot fun wiht this :)

#digital art #commission #cat #egyptian theme #my art #thefabhawk #clip studio paint #digital illustration

[piksel]

hiii hepsini okudum yazdıklarının cccookk teşekkür ederim 💗bende ustra kullanacaktım o zaman kullanmayayim vazgeçtim şuan ve sen çok güzelsin!! tepeden tırnağa. tekrardan ccook teşekkür ederim💐

rica ederim bebisss, ustra olayi cok kafa karistirici bi sey ya kimine iyi geliyo kimine kotu😔😔 iltifatlarin icin tesekkur ederiimmm cok naziksin🤍🤍

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[brasilsa]

liliaschwarcz

 Domingão à noite, é dia de assistir um bom filme. Hoje sugiro Argentina, 1985; drama histórico baseado em fatos reais. Ele dramatiza o julgamento das forças militares argentinas pela ditadura de 1976 a 1983 no país, responsável pelo desaparecimento de aproximadamente 30 mil pessoas. O filme é contado do ponto de vista do promotor Julio César Strassera, interpretado pelo consagrado ator Ricardo Darín. A narrativa enseja uma surpresa. A ideia do governo argentino era de alguma maneira transformar o julgamento numa grande balela, já que o promotor era conhecido por não ter feito absolutamente nada durante a ditadura— era um perfeito burocrata, desses que preferem fechar os olhos e os ouvidos no lugar de agir. Mas tudo conspirou ao contrário, inclusive o jovem promotor assistente, que fora indicado por conta da sua falta de experiência e as relações pessoais que sua família mantinha com os militares da ditadura. No entanto, em meio aquele contexto acirrado, ambos resolveram agir e punir os culpados. O filme tem cenas emocionantes, com o depoimento de pessoas torturadas, subjugadas e humilhadas, e o relato de familiares que viram seus parentes sumirem nas mãos da ditadura. “Argentina, 1985” fica ainda mais emocionante se pensarmos no momento em que vivemos, quando muitos, sem saber o que é ditadura, clamam pela volta dela. O Brasil teve uma comissão da verdade, durante o governo Dilma Rousseff. Mas essa era uma comissão sem dentes, já que poderia indicar os malfeitores mas não puni-los. Até hoje sofremos com essa “anistia militar”, negociada em 1985, e a falta de reparação. Só assim se explica que o presidente em exercício tenha elogiado o General Ustra, um torturador condenado pelo Estado brasileiro, e contratado sua esposa para trabalhar e não fazer nada — apenas como homenagem, disse ele. Esse é um filme pungente e atual. É preciso sempre lembrar de não esquecer e assim honrar nossos mortos e desaparecidos. Veja com lenço de papel do lado. (E boa semana).

[avistadamontanha]

Simplesmente é impossível escrever em uma postagem os motivos que me fazem ser contra Bolsonaro. Por este motivo separei 10 motivos que me fazem não votar nele. 1-Bolsonaro disse que não estupraria a deputada federal Maria do Rosário (PT-RS) porque ela não merecia, já que era feia. Além de ter vários comportamentos deploráveis com jornalistas. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LD8-b4wvIjc> 2-Considera Brilhante Ustra, torturador da ditadura, chegou torturar mulheres grávidas, de herói nacional. <https://g1.globo.com/politica/noticia/2019/08/08/bolsonaro-chama-coronel-ustra-de-heroi-nacional.ghtml> 3-Ex-mulher de Bolsonaro afirma ter sido ameaçada de morte por ele.<https://www1.folha.uol.com.br/poder/2018/09/ex-mulher-afirmou-ter-sofrido-ameaca-de-morte-de-bolsonaro-diz-itamaraty.shtml> 4-Bolsonaro acredita que mulher ganha menos que um homem para fazer o mesmo trabalho, pois pode engravidar e tirar licença maternidade. <https://gauchazh.clicrbs.com.br/politica/eleicoes/noticia/2018/10/o-que-bolsonaro-disse-sobre-salarios-e-direitos-trabalhistas-de-mulheres-em-entrevista-concedida-a-zero-hora-em-2014-cjn585nmv04f901pi6ioxn6bv.html> 5-Bolsonaro foi xenofóbico ao se referir à jornalista Thaís Oyama como a “aquela japonesa”, dizendo que “não sabe o que ela faz aqui no Brasil”. <https://catracalivre.com.br/cidadania/bolsonaro-revolta-comunidade-japonesa-no-brasil-apos-fala-racista/> 6-Bolsonaro é um dos autores do PL 6055/2013, que tinha como objetivo proibir o atendimento médico para vítimas de abuso sexual pelo SUS.<https://fenafar.org.br/2022/05/16/bolsonaro-e-autor-de-projeto-de-lei-que-visa-impedir-atendimento-a-vitimas-de-estupro-pelo-sus/> 7-Vetou integralmente o PL 2508/20 que dava prioridade para o pagamento do auxílio emergencial em cota dupla (R$ 1.200) para a mulher chefe de família (uniparental) quando o pai também informasse ser responsável pelos dependentes. <https://www.camara.leg.br/noticias/680028-bolsonaro-veta-prioridade-a-mulher-chefe-de-familia-no-auxilio-emergencial/>

8- A omissão do SEU governo à reserva indígena possibilitou a invasão do território por cerca de 20 mil garimpeiros, o que consequentemente fez com que aumentasse as violações de mulheres Yanomami.<https://sumauma.com/por-que-os-garimpeiros-comem-as-vaginas-das-mulheres-yanomami/> 9-Por conta da gestão do governo de Jair Bolsonaro, a população brasileira tem se alimentado cada vez menos e pior. <https://www.bbc.com/portuguese/brasil-54288952> 10- Bolsonaro é racista. <http://conaq.org.br/noticias/bolsonaro-e-acusado-de-racismo-na-pgr-apos-declaracao-sobre-negros-e-indios/>

#ele não #ele nunca #elenão #fora bolsonaro