#and it took the killing of international aid workers to get here?

[booasaur]

What using the tiniest bit of US leverage can do.

#us politics #joe biden #israel #palestine #free palestine #these people have been starving and dying for so long #many still surviving are beyond the point which they can be brought back safely from without medical help #and it took the killing of international aid workers to get here? #it's just so sad #there's no win here #no lesson learned #we can only hope this pressure mounts and stops things #especially with iran's counter hovering

[sunflowersteves]

Unforgivable || ch. two

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your life with Natasha seemed like pure bliss until the team mistakes you for an agent gone rogue. 

Word count: 2K

Author’s note: Cliff hanger, I knowwww. There will be one more part! I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: angst, fluff!, swearing, angsty plot, basically the whole team is a dick

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Your feet start to ache as you continue to walk on the dirt road that led from the compound. You honestly had no idea where you were going, your phone was at five percent, and the Avengers had just threatened your life. Tears started to prick your eyes as you thought about Natasha. Anger consumes your thoughts, hot tears, and furrowed eyebrows. How could she not trust your love for her? How did the Avengers even have any information like that?

You blamed her for not trusting you. You blamed her for not trusting her love for you. You blamed her friends for not looking into it more. You blamed her for-

You just sigh and shake your head. A part of you wanted to give her a chance, to go back and see if she believes you. The other part never wanted to see her again, ever. Another part of you growled at the side that wanted to go back; you were almost ashamed of it. The Avengers had threatened you. They threatened your life and never once believed you over some paper.

But you were so confused. Your heart clenched at the thought of never seeing her face again or never having her fiery hair tickle your cheek.

You abruptly stopped as the road split into two. You tried checking the map on your phone but it acted like there were nothing here but fields. You sigh, sitting on a large rock near the road. You felt a vibration from your phone and quickly looked at it.

Hot RedHead: It’s over. I never liked you anyway.

Tears started to fully flow now, your chin wobbling. You started to chew on your lower lip to help stop the raking sobs flowing out of your body but it was no use. You were now leaning against the rock and pulling your knees up, resting your hands in your head. God, this all seemed so pathetic. You really love Nat, you can’t get her out of your head but what does she think of you now?

Natasha’s POV

Natasha was going as fast as she could, turning corners on her motorcycle it almost fell over. She had no idea how far you had gone. She was hoping you were still walking along the road. She knew you would push her away right when you saw her but can she blame you? Her friends made her believe you were a Hydra agent. But all she could think about was cradling you in her arms and telling you she’s sorry, hoping you’ll forgive her.

She knows it’ll take time. However long it’ll take, she doesn’t care. She’ll wait until you’re both 60 and a little wrinkly if she has to. But Nat also understands if you don’t choose her. With the amount of damage, she and her friends caused she doesn’t blame you if you never wanted to see you again. She would definitely respect that choice.

Fire burning anger ignited in herself. She can’t believe how shallow it was to believe her friends who stupidly mistook you for someone else. She felt so much anger towards them, convincing her that you were with her for information. How could they be so stupid? How could she be so stupid to trust them?

She came to a screeching halt as she spotted you leaning on a rock. She propped her motorcycle and carefully walked over. She practically whimpered as she could hear your soft snores. She could see the tear-stained cheeks and her heart constricted. Your nose looked stuffy from all the crying and your eyes had a slight puff to them. 

She presses a hand onto your forehead and could feel the heat radiating off of you. It had been quite a hot day in New York and she didn’t know how long you had sat out here. She sighed and picked you up, laying in her arms you subconsciously snuggled into her. She feared that if she took you on her bike, you would end up falling off. So, walking it is.

Natasha marched along the dirt road, tears flowing down her cheeks. Some dripped down onto her shirt as she couldn’t wipe them. She just whispered “I’m sorry,” over and over again and carried you to the nearest bus station. 

After about an hour of walking, Natasha had finally made it to the bus station. She paid for your ticket and sat you on the bus, head leaning on the window. She looked around and saw that only an old woman sat on the other side. She told the bus driver to keep an eye out for you and she nodded, telling her that no one would touch you. Nat just nodded and started to trek back to the compound.

--

Reader’s POV

It had been a couple of days since Nat broke up with you. You kept telling yourself that you were...handling it but in reality, her leaving had hit you pretty hard. You hadn’t really left your apartment, only going to the store for groceries. You called in for work telling them that you were sick but they knew you were lying. Especially your best friend, Shuri. Right when you called in sick, she immediately asked what was wrong but knew you needed time off. 

You sat on the couch and sadly ate ice cream and started watching The Lovebirds. You would be drowning in your favorite wine but they ran out so you turned to tubs of ice cream. As the movie progresses, you find yourself crying with some tears dropping into your ice cream as Issa Rae and Kumail Nanjiani realize they’re still in love with each other. 

You turned off the TV as the movie was over and was about to get ready for bed, especially since you’ve run out of sick days but something caught your eye. Your bag had sat on the dining room table, completely untouched. A little note stuck out of one of the pockets. You walk over and carefully take the note out.

Meet me at the blockhouse in central park on the 7th, 9 pm.

You sigh, that was tonight. But you knew exactly who it was. You knew Natasha wanted to speak with you, maybe she changed her mind? That definitely explains how you don’t remember ending up on a bus.

You just shook your head, crumbling it up, and tossing it in the trash. There was no way you would fall for that, right? I mean, it’s just the Avengers wanting to throw you in jail or maybe that’s just where they wanted to kill you. You and Nat had met there, her asking you for your number and you had many dates walking around central park. 

They just wanted to reel you in. They were smart, you’d give them that but there’s no utter way you’d go. So, you got ready for bed and fell right asleep. The next morning you had to go to work, as much as you trudged along, groaning loudly as you got dressed. You stayed quiet on the subway as your friend talked your ear off.

You walked into the International Rescue Committee, slightly waving at some of your co-workers. You sat at your desk, doing some paperwork before visiting some of the kids you’ve helped. You especially couldn’t wait to see Peter, who has been attached to your hip since you arrived. You’re typing away, sipping on some coffee until you jumped a bit from a voice behind you.

 “Oh shit, you look awful.” You roll your eyes and give a look at Shuri who’s snickering at your reaction. You and her both turn a bit more serious as you sigh and turn to her small tears forming in your eyes. She wraps her arms around you into a full hug. “Nat broke up with me. Her friends saw my name in a Hydra file and thought I was out to get her.” 

Shuri gasped, hugging tighter. “Did they believe you?” You shook your head and ignored the stares you were getting from you crying in Shuri’s arms. “I see why you took some days off. Don’t worry about it. I’ll fill out your paperwork. Go see Peter.” She smiled brightly as you thanked her, kissing her cheek. “You’re the best boss ever!”

You walked next door to a large and fancy apartment complex where most of the refugees stay. You knew he was playing sports with some of the other kids so you walked past the complex and to the basketball court. “Y/n!” Peter ran towards you, locked you into a huge as you giggled and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Good to see you, kid.” He goes on to ask a bunch of questions, wondering where you’ve been and why you weren’t there. You explained some of it, to which he nodded and then declared to hate the Avengers now.

You laughed but you knew he was serious. He meant well. You and the rest of the kids start playing some basketball, laughing and playing around. What you didn’t notice though was the Avengers walking up to the basketball court. Before they reached you and notified you of their presence, one of the kids fell onto their knee and scraped it pretty bad. 

Loud cries and sobs filled the air and you ran over, inspecting the wound. “Sh, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Peter! Get the aid kit!” He ran into the complex to grab one from the front desk while you rub circles into the little girl’s back. Peter came running back and you took some soap and water, cleaning the wound. “See that bird over there? I want you to look at it okay? See it? It told me the other day that it likes your paw patrol shoes.” 

The little girl cried out only a couple of times as you cleaned the wound and put a power rangers band-aid on her, which you knew was one of her favorites. She clung to your leg asking if you can get her ice cream because it still hurts. You laugh and nod, holding her hand.

“Y/n.” Your whole body froze, slightly turning to see the Avengers standing before you. You gripped the little girl’s hand while pulling a frown on your face. “Peter, take her to get ice cream.” He just nodded and gulped, taking the girl’s hand and walking to the ice cream shop next door. He gave you a concerned look but you nodded, making sure he knows you’re okay. 

You open your mouth to speak but Clint just shakes his head, the rest of the Avenger’s head hanging low. You were honestly scared shitless, you tried not to give it away. However, it was pretty obvious as your hands were trembling and your breathing was fast. They were here to end it, weren’t they? I mean, sure you’ve stayed away from Nat so what could they possibly want?

“You should know that we’re sorry.” Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. Sorry? Huh? “The person on that file wasn’t you. The picture was the exact opposite. We shouldn’t have reacted that way. We’re very sorry and hold us accountable. If you can, please forgive Nat.” And with that, each Avenger apologized for what they did and asked you to consider taking her back.

You would just raise your eyebrows but then they told you that she feels horrible, not sleeping or eating. She feels like shit for not trusting you, the love of her life, and trust them instead. You couldn’t speak, just shaking your head as tears threatened to fall. They nodded and walked away going back to the compound.

Now you had to make a choice. Forgive Natasha or never see her again? On one hand, you wanted to be back in her arms again. Smelling her shampoo and kissing her temple all while that passion and love fill your stomach. But on the other hand, the Avengers had threatened you and your life. Natasha thought they were right. Natasha believed them, believed that you used her for information.

Although, you know you’ve already made your decision.

~~

Unforgivable Taglist: @messuhp​ @dark-heart-no-soul​ @jenny-song​

Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @kitkatd7​

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #scarlett johansson #natasha romanov #marvel #marvel fanfiction #natasha fanfiction #Black Widow #black widow fanfiction #black widow x reader #angst #natasha angst #marvel angst #natasha romanoff series #marvel x reader #captain america #clint barton #Bucky Barnes #wanda maximoff #gay!natasha

[grootpoepjeplasjehoofd]

If we talked about what is happening in Minneapolis the same way we talk about events in a foreign country, here’s how the Western media would cover it. The quotes and those “quoted” in the piece below are fictional.

In recent years, the international community has sounded the alarm on the deteriorating political and human rights situation in the United States under the regime of Donald Trump. Now, as the country marks 100,000 deaths from the coronavirus pandemic, the former British colony finds itself in a downward spiral of ethnic violence. The fatigue and paralysis of the international community are evident in its silence, America experts say.

The country has been rocked by several viral videos depicting extrajudicial executions of black ethnic minorities by state security forces. Uprisings erupted in the northern city of Minneapolis after a video circulated online of the killing of a black man, George Floyd, after being attacked by a security force agent. Trump took to Twitter, calling black protesters “THUGS”’ and threatening to send in military force. “When the looting starts, the shooting starts!” he declared.

“Sure, we get it that black people are angry about decades of abuse and impunity,” said G. Scott Fitz, a Minnesotan and member of the white ethnic majority. “But going after a Target crosses the line. Can’t they find a more peaceful way, like kneeling in silence?”

Ethnic violence has plagued the country for generations, and decades ago it captured the attention of the world, but recently the news coverage and concern are waning as there seems to be no end in sight to the oppression. “These are ancient, inexplicable hatreds fueling these ethnic conflicts and inequality," said Andreja Dulic, a foreign correspondent whose knowledge of American English consists of a semester course in college and the occasional session on the Duolingo app. When told the United States is only several hundred years old, he shrugged and said, “In my country, we have structures still from the Roman empire. In their culture, Americans think that a 150-year-old building is ancient history.”

Britain usually takes an acute interest in the affairs of its former colony, but it has also been affected by the novel coronavirus. “We’ve seen some setbacks with the virus, but some Brits see the rising disease, staggering unemployment and violence in the States and feel as if America was never ready to govern itself properly, that it would resort to tribal politics,” said Andrew Darcy Morthington, a London-based America expert. During the interview, a news alert informed that out of the nearly 40,000 coronavirus deaths in the United Kingdom, 61 percent of the health-care workers who have died were black and or have Middle Eastern backgrounds. Morthington didn’t seem to notice. “Like I was saying, we don’t have those American racism issues here.”

Trump, a former reality-TV host, beauty pageant organizer and businessman, once called African nations “shithole countries." But he is now taking a page from African dictators who spread bogus health remedies, like Yahya Jammeh of Gambia, who claimed he could cure AIDS with bananas and herbal potions and pushed his treatments onto the population, resulting in deaths. Trump appeared to suggest injecting bleach and using sunlight to kill the coronavirus. He has also said he has taken hydroxycholoroquine, a drug derived from quinine, a long-known jungle remedy for malaria. Doctors have advised against using the treatment to prevent or treat the coronavirus.

Meanwhile, Americans desperate to flee will face steep challenges to cross borders, as mismanagement of the coronavirus and ethnic tensions in the country have made them undesirable visitors. But some struggling American retailers, like Neiman Marcus, are hoping to lure shoppers with traditional 19th-century colonial travel fantasies through neutral khakis and cargo shorts as part of a “Modern Safari” collection. “Utilitarian details & muted tones meet classic femininity,” reads a caption under the photograph of a white woman. Pith helmets were not included in the accessory lineup.

Some nations are considering offering black Americans special asylum. “Members of the white ethnic majority are forming armed militia groups, demanding their freedom to go back to work for the wealthy class who refer to workers as ‘human capital stock,’ despite the huge risk to workers,” said Mustapha Okango, a Nairobi-based anthropologist. “This is a throwback to the days when slavery was the backbone of the American economy. Black slaves were the original essential workers, and they were treated as non-human stock.”

Africa could be an ideal asylum destination, as several African countries have managed to contain the coronavirus outbreak through aggressive early measures and innovations in testing kits. Senegal, a nation of 16 million, has only seen 41 deaths. “Everyone predicted Africa would fall into chaos,” Okango said. “It is proof that being a black person in this world doesn’t kill you, but being a black person in America clearly can.” The African Union did not respond to requests for comment, but it released a statement that said “we believe in American solutions for American problems.”

Around the world, grass-roots organizations, celebrities, human rights activists and even students are doing what they can to raise money and awareness about the dire situation in America.

“It’s sad that the Americans don’t have a government that can get them coronavirus tests or even monthly checks to be able to feed their families,” said Charlotte Johnson, a 18-year-old Liberian student activist, who survived the Ebola pandemic. “100,000 people are dead, cities are burning, and the country hasn’t had a day of mourning? Lives don’t matter, especially not black lives. It’s like they’re living in a failing state.”

[lfthinkerwrites]

52 for Esme and Crane, please!

Esme had been in Intensive Treatment doing her rounds when the alarm sounded. “Alert. Security Breach in Level A. Alert. Security Breach in Level B. Alert. Security Breach in Level C...” The sounds of gunfire had followed soon after, and Esme had scrambled for the safety of a guard station along with three of her coworkers. They had just barely managed to barricade themselves inside when a handful of the Joker’s men had stormed past, shooting at anyone not hiding. Esme sat on the floor as far away from the door as she could. She'd flinched when the Joker's men had tried to burst their way inside but had managed to stay silent. The rioters had given up after a few minutes and moved on, but Esme could still hear the gunshots, the dying screams of the other nurses, orderlies, doctors, guards, her co-workers, her friends-

She didn't know how much time had passed, but soon, after what felt like a hundred years, the gunshots had receded further into the Asylum, and the only sounds she could hear now were the muffled sobs of the co-workers she'd hidden with. Esme slowly got to her feet and pressed her ear against the door.

"Do you hear anything?" her friend Chelsea whispered.

Esme slowly shook her head. "No. I think they're gone."

"We should stay here," Jerry, one of the night custodians said. "Wait for Batman or GCPD to come get us."

"Wait," Mark, an orderly whispered. "Did you hear that?"

The cramped guard station was silent. Soon, Esme could hear it. The sound of a low, pained groaning. "...Help...me..."

Esme crouched down to pick up her first aid kit. "What are you doing!?" Chelsea hissed.

"Someone's hurt out there, I have to help them."

"Don't do it, Esme," Jerry warned. "You don't know what's out there."

Esme moved the desk enough out of the way so she could get out the door. "Lock up behind me," she said. Before anyone else could voice a protest, she slipped out of the guard station.

The first thing she saw in the corridor was a dead body. One of the new interns, Josh something. He was barely recognizable. A few feet away, propped up against the wall, a security guard was holding his bleeding leg and wincing. Esme took a quick look to make sure no one else was around, then dashed to the guard. "Can you stand?" she whispered.

"I'll try," the guard said. Esme offered her arm to help him up, when she heard approaching footsteps. Batman? She turned, only to nearly shrink back.

Before her stood Jonathan Crane, in full Scarecrow regalia. "So you lived," he said dully. "For now at least."

Crane used to be civil with her. Crane used to be almost decent to her. Then something had happened, almost a full year ago that broke him. He'd attacked Warren White, nearly killed an orderly, been put in solitary, and come out a broken man. He rarely spoke now and treated her with the same icy disdain he treated the doctors with. Esme stayed still looking up at the patient she'd almost been fond of, trying to see any trace of him through that burlap mask. "Are you alright, Professor Crane?"

The use of his old title only seemed to irritate the man. He loaded his gauntlet. "That is a stupid question, child. You're not stupid. Are you scared?"

Esme felt the grip of the security guard's hand on her arm, trying to shove her away, trying to save her, but she stayed, even as Crane advanced towards her. "Professor Crane," she pleaded. "Jonathan, please-"

Crane stilled. "Edward?" he whispered. He sounded near tears. Esme thought she might have gotten through to him when he violently shook his head. "Make them suffer," he whispered again, in a harsh, guttural tone. "Punish them for taking him away from you. Show them the true meaning of fear!"

'Taking him away'? Who was he? Wait, he'd said Edward. Edward Nigma? He'd been in a coma for almost a year, but why-oh. Oh God. Crane and Nigma had been...? How could she not have seen this? How could no one have seen this? "I'm so sorry," she said, sincerely.

He aimed his gauntlet towards her and stepped forward, only to stop again. He seemed to be arguing with himself. "No," he said. "Not her. Not her." He stepped back finally, and Esme thought she could see a trace of the old professor who used to look out for her. "Goodbye, child." He turned on his heel and ran down the hall.

Esme never saw him again.

#Anonymous #esme the nurse #jonathan crane #surprise! #guess who wound up in pi verse after all!

[newstfionline]

Monday, August 23, 2021

22 dead, many missing after 17 inches of rain in Tennessee (AP) At least 22 people were killed and rescue crews searched desperately Sunday amid shattered homes and tangled debris for dozens of people still missing after record-breaking rain sent floodwaters surging through Middle Tennessee. Saturday’s flooding in rural areas took out roads, cellphone towers and telephone lines, leaving families uncertain about whether their loved ones survived the unprecedented deluge. Emergency workers were searching door to door, said Kristi Brown, a coordinator for health and safety supervisor with Humphreys County Schools. Up to 17 inches (43 centimeters) of rain fell in Humphreys County in less than 24 hours Saturday, shattering the Tennessee record for one-day rainfall by more than 3 inches (8 centimeters), the National Weather Service said. Lines of storms moved over the area for hours, wringing out a record amount of moisture. The downpours rapidly turned the creeks that run behind backyards and through downtown Waverly into raging rapids.

Moving inland, storm Henri drenches Northeast US (AP) Storm Henri weakened into tropical depression Sunday night, as it crawled over the Northeast and continued to unleash downpours over a region already saturated by heavy rain and wind that knocked out power to over 100,000 homes and swamped roads, closed bridges and left people stranded in their vehicles. Henri made landfall Sunday on the coast of Rhode Island, and the National Hurricane Center warned that the slow-moving storm would continue dumping heavy rains on wide swaths of the region. The storm was downgraded from a hurricane before reaching New England, leaving many to breathe a sigh of relief. There were few early reports of major damage due to wind or surf. But the storm’s heavy, sustained rains raised concerns about flooding from the storm that threatened to stall over the region before pivoting to the East and moving out to the Atlantic Ocean on Monday night. Some of the highest rain totals were expected inland.

Civilian air fleet activated for just 3rd time in history to aid Afghanistan evacuation (The Week) For just the third time in U.S. history, the Pentagon is activating the country's Civil Reserve Air Fleet, meaning 18 civilian aircraft from airlines such as American, Delta, and United will be utilized to aid the Afghanistan evacuation in the wake of the Taliban takeover. The planes won't fly into and out of Kabul—the CRAF does not enter war zones—but they will head to U.S. military bases in Germany, Qatar, and Bahrain to fly stranded evacuees elsewhere, alleviating some of the pressure on the armed forces trying to get tens of thousands of Americans and Afghan civilians to safety. The civilian planes are also necessary because the military planes used to carry people out of Kabul don't have adequate restroom facilities or the ability to provide food on longer flights across the Atlantic, The Wall Street Journal notes. The CRAF program was created in 1952, a few years after the Berlin Airlift, an early Cold War crisis that saw the Soviet Union block access from the east to other sectors of the divided city that were controlled by Western powers. Since then, it's only been activated twice—during the Gulf War in Kuwait between 1990 and 1991, and at the start of the Iraq War between 2002 and 2003. The Pentagon only wants to use the aircraft for a week or two, which seemingly lines up with its plan to finish the withdrawal by Aug. 31, though the U.S. is facing calls to extend the deadline.

In Haiti, a brutal reckoning over an all too familiar task: Rebuilding (Washington Post) Hundreds of schools in Haiti were destroyed or badly damaged when the earth shook. The quake damaged power plants, bridges and roads, compromising electric grids and transit. The water supplies for countless communities are contaminated, in some, locals say, because of corpses upstream. Even as Haitians bury their dead, rescue operations continue and bands of desperate victims raid aid trucks. A country of endless crises led by an interim government stepping in for an assassinated president once again faces the arduous task of rebuilding. In the Western Hemisphere’s poorest nation—one worn down by repeated natural and man-made disasters—the list of broken infrastructure and housing is an omen of new hardship ahead. Just as it did in 2010 after a more deadly earthquake—and in 2016, when Hurricane Matthew pummeled the same southern communities stricken by the quake now—Haiti is looking to the international community for help. But that hasn’t worked out well in the past. Last week’s quake reopened old wounds from the 2010 temblor that struck closer to the densely populated capital and killed more than 220,000 people. Over $13 billion in aid was allocated by international agencies to respond to the disaster. But mismanagement, a disconnect with local reality and lack of organization led to mistakes that the Haitian government, international agencies and NGOs say they can’t afford to commit again. To avoid the mistakes of the past, the Haitian government is now requesting that aid flow through it. But on the streets, distrust of local and national officials, who victims insist are corrupt and will spread distribute the aid for personal or political gain, is growing.

British military: 7 Afghans killed in chaos at Kabul airport (AP) A panicked crush of people trying to enter Kabul’s international airport killed seven Afghan civilians in the crowds, the British military said Sunday, showing the danger still posed to those trying to flee the Taliban’s takeover of the country. There have been stampedes and crushing injuries in the crowds, especially as Taliban fighters fire into the air to drive away those desperate to get on any flight out of the country. On Saturday, British and Western troops in full combat gear tried to control the crowds pressing in. They carried away some who were sweating and pale. With temperatures reaching 34 degree Celsius (93 degrees Fahrenheit), the soldiers sprayed water from a hose on those gathered or gave them bottled water to pour over their heads. It wasn’t immediately clear whether those killed had been physically crushed, suffocated or suffered a fatal heart attack in the crowds. Soldiers covered several corpses in white clothes to hide them from view. Other troops stood atop concrete barriers or shipping containers, trying to calm the crowd. Gunshots occasionally rang out.

Europe fears Afghan refugee crisis after Taliban takeover (AP) From above, the new border wall separating Turkey from Iran looks like a white snake winding through the barren hills. So far it only covers a third of the 540-kilometer (335-mile) border, leaving plenty of gaps for migrants to slip across in the dead of night. Traffic on this key migration route from central Asia to Europe has remained relatively stable compared to previous years. But European countries, as well as Turkey, fear the sudden return of Taliban rule in Afghanistan could change that. Haunted by a 2015 migration crisis fueled by the Syrian war, European leaders desperately want to avoid another large-scale influx of refugees and migrants from Afghanistan. Except for those who helped Western forces in the country’s two-decade war, the message to Afghans considering fleeing to Europe is: If you must leave, go to neighboring countries, but don’t come here. Even Germany, which since 2015 has admitted more Syrians than any other Western nation, is sending a different signal today. And French President Emmanuel Macron stressed that “Europe alone cannot shoulder the consequences” of the situation in Afghanistan and “must anticipate and protect ourselves against significant irregular migratory flows.” Greece, whose scenic islands facing the Turkish coast were the European point of entry for hundreds of thousands of Syrians, Iraqis, Afghans and others six years ago, has made clear it doesn’t want to relive that crisis. Turkey is also reinforcing its borders.

Internal displacement crisis looms in Afghanistan in wake of Taliban takeover (Washington Post) As Afghanistan’s neighbors, along with other countries in the region and in the West, brace for the possibility of a large-scale refugee crisis driven by the Taliban’s rapid return to national power, the largest share of the displacement crisis is unfolding within Afghanistan’s borders, aid groups say. As the Taliban took territory in recent weeks, waves of Afghans fled their home provinces on foot and in cars and rickshaws in search of shifting, shrinking government-controlled pockets. In the week before Kabul fell to the Islamist group, tens of thousands of people fled, many of them making their way to the capital, directly or by way of provincial capitals that did not hold out long. Afghanistan already had 3.5 million internally displaced people before the Taliban took over. More than a half-million Afghan civilians have been displaced this year, UNHCR estimates, with about 80 percent being woman and girls. Now that the Taliban has control at the national level, and there are few places to flee its fighters within the country, it remains to be seen what share of people will simply go home.

Israel strikes Gaza after violent protests along border (AP) Israel’s military bombed Palestinian militant weapons sites in the Gaza Strip early Sunday in response to a violent demonstration on the perimeter fence that left an Israeli police officer critically injured, the army said. Saturday’s violence erupted after hundreds of Palestinians took part in a demonstration organized by Gaza’s Hamas rulers to draw attention to the Israeli-Egyptian blockade of the territory. The demonstration grew violent after dozens of people approached the fortified border fence and threw rocks and explosives toward Israeli soldiers from behind a black smoke screen billowing from burning tires. At least 24 Palestinians, including a 13-year-old, were injured by Israeli gunfire, according to the Gaza health ministry. An Israeli Border Police officer was shot and critically injured. The army said in a statement that in response to the violent demonstrations, fighter planes hit “four weapons and storage manufacturing sites” belonging to Gaza’s Hamas rulers, and that the military deployed additional troops to the region near the border with the Palestinian enclave.

#headlines #news

[squishybuttercup]

Nam Jaejoong

28 years old - Genius - Slob - Bookworm

@simvicii​ Alex’s Bachelor Challenge

(NOTE: Under the cut is LOOONG story with his earlier life containing tw violence and depression. If you’re okay with that content, I hope you take the time to get to know Jae.)

  Backstory:

Jae was orphaned when he was 10, and he had been keeping to himself mostly ever since then. His family had gone through series of tragedies, but most of those things do not make sense to a child. When he was 6, his older sister was diagnosed with Leukemia. Their parents’ relation started to strain as they struggle to earn money for his sister’s treatments and for their basic needs. They worked multiple jobs, and took turns in taking care for their children, but Jae was mostly overlooked. Both of them had to stop school, and so their only activities at home were reading and house chores (which eventually Jae had to do most as his sister’s condition worsened). Their parents were barely home, and when they were, all they would do is fight (screaming at each other and throwing things around the house). Eventually, his father stopped coming home. Without enough financial aid, medical treatments for his sister halted. She died when Jae was around 9 years old.

After years of struggles and pain, his mother was pushed to a point of experiencing depression. Again, a child wouldn’t know what to do in his situation. After all these things, the worst was yet to come for him. Robbers came to their house one night, and his mother tried to fight them of from stealing what is left of their savings. Jae rushed to help her but one of the robbers attacked him, all he could remember was a sharp pain on his face before he passed out (This resulted in him having a scar on his face). He woke up in a hospital bed, wherein a police officer broke the news to him, his mother was killed in the robbery. The orphanage has sent him from foster families after foster families. Jae spent most of his time on his own, reading books and trying experiments (when he has resources). He had a hard time at school because most kids and teachers just saw him as a weird kid. When he was 17 his genius potentials were noticed by their school principal who decided to give him a test, wherein if he passed he is then qualified to continue on to college despite him stopping school for a few years.

After passing the exam, Jae was then introduced to a couple willing to adopt him even though he is almost in legal age. The couple were both middle-aged doctors, who never had a chance to have a child of their own. They think that he will fit right in their household, and he did like it there. He had access to a library with a lot of medical books, a comfortable bed, and supportive guardians. During his time spent with them and in college, he slowly started to open up to other people. It was a little awkward for him at first to call them “mom” and “dad” but he got used to it.

For his bachelor’s degree, he took up BS Psychology. His course was a big part of how he was able to help himself heal and to also attend therapy. His social life also started to grow as he participated in different organizations that are about healthcare and environment preservation. When it comes to his dating life, well, college girls and boys don’t usually take interest on someone who has his face buried in a book. He went on a few first dates, but none of those developed into anything serious.

He did of course still spend most of his time reading, especially fictions which are fantasy genre since that was his interest when he was a kid. Jae was usually submerged in studying; this applies to all kinds of topics ranging from social issues up to medical discoveries. Whenever this happens, he tends to ignore the random papers, candy wrappers, water bottles littered in his room so his mom describes him as bit of a slob. (Their housemaid confirmed this).

His motto in life is “Keep Learning”. He values individual growth and always finds ways on self-improvement. He tried out sports during this time too, which are basketball and tennis. They were fun for him but they didn’t exactly become his favorite activities. But his experience did help him realize that hobbies aside from reading are important as well. This was how he developed the habit of jogging every other day, and he also tried going to the gym but that didn’t work out for him so he opted for exercising at home instead.

Jae entered medical school when he was 22, and he originally planned to pursue being a General Practitioner. But during his third year, when he had to choose his field of specialization in medical practice, he chose to focus on being a surgeon. Furthermore, his goal is to be a neurosurgeon.

When it comes to family bonding, they genuinely enjoy discussions related to their field of expertise. His dad is a Physician and his mom is an OB-GYN. But medical field aside, they enjoy watching action movies together. They also go out to eat ice cream during summer, and their favorite food to eat during winter is ramen.

  Right now, at age 28, he has finished 2 years of internship. He is currently evaluating his life and his goals in life.

“I’m working as an intern in the same hospital where my parents work. But I decided to take a small break from that for now. I am passionate about my career, but I’m also the kind of guy who dreams of having his own family. And uhm.. I’ve been thinking that I’m not getting any younger, and now more than ever I want to take this shot at love. I talked it out with my parents, because they’ve always been supportive of my career, and they said they want what’s best for me, and that I’m the one who knows that. I’m going to admit that the idea of my own family also terrifies me, but I also know that with the kind of person I am now, I’m going to be a responsible and loving father/husband.”

The reason why Jae is even able to make this choice, despite the well-known fact that doctors are busy as heck, is because of his security in his workplace and the support from his parents and friends. The hospital he works on ensures not only the best care for its patients, but also to its workers. The board members and all staff are aware of Jae’s capability as a doctor and treats him with high regard even though he’s only an intern so far. He had a discussion with the Director of the hospital before he started internship, to which he expressed his intentions and wishes regarding his working hours incase he decides to start a family. The Director is a good friend of their family, and one of the few people who knows about his past. Which is why he has made arrangements for Jae, with the knowledge that he will still be able to work his best.

Jae doesn’t really know what to think of fate or coincidences, but just during the start of his break, he saw “The Bachelor: Alexander Goth”. He wasn’t one to have crushes immediately on someone, more so on someone he hasn’t met. But boy did Alex leave an impression on him. The more he read about him, his interest in him develops and he hopes to get to know him in person someday. He deeply respects Alex’s work as an author, and he’s pretty excited to read his works!

“I’m entering this challenge and I view it as me spending time with possibly the love of my life. When it comes to what I look for in a relationship, I want someone I can grow with. People are so obsessed with finding their Perfect Match, and most of the time they just look for someone who is completely compatible with who they are at the moment, and worse they only want these ideal soulmates. I think that it’s important for partners to respect, trust and love each other. But they should also be aware that people continuously change overtime, and that as partners they must grow together and always choose each other.”

  Here is a CAS picture of him where his scar is now visible:

squishybuttercup’s notes: hi love!! I know that your aim with this challenge is to have gameplay-centered legacy. But the reason why I wrote this much detail about him is for you (and alex) to get to know him well. Gameplay-wise he can just work as doctor in the sims world and be one of the two best dads in the sims world. Also Jae isn’t the type of person who shares his life story away, so I imagine him telling Alex himself about that part ^_^ I’m super excited for this and I hope Nam Jaejoong gets picked! Anything else not mentioned here you may ask me or opt to have your own interpretation I don’t mind as I am literally offering him to be in your game ajsdfsjkl this also means i acknowledge that you might change his looks to fit your game’s aesthetics. also ily :p

#ts4 #the sims 4 #the sims #sims #sims 4 #maxis mix #simvicii #ts4 edit #sims 4 edit #sims edit #s4 edit #ts4 male sim #male sims #alexgothbcentry #my edits

[twdeadfanfic]

Golden Cage, Pt.2

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary:  The reader is one of Negan’s wives, kept against her will in the golden cage that is the Sanctuary. When they brought Daryl in, she can’t take to see more suffering, and she tries helping him, until she gathers enough courage to ask him to help her run away from there.

Set in season 7, 8 and (sort of) 9. Angst, Hurt/Comfort, there’s some fluff in here sometimes too, and also language, violence, and all those twd kind of things.

Disclaimer: For me, and as much as I love the actor and I think him an interesting character, Negan is a villain, and in this story, he’s certanly the villain in Reader’s life. So if you don’t like to see portrayed Negan like that, then please don’t read instead of sending hate...

Chapter 2/24 Updated twice a week, posting Monday and Thursday

If you want to read more of my Daryl Dixon stories (long series, mini-series, one shots...) check my MASTERLIST on the description of this blog.

We left the reader on her way to talk to Daryl for the first time...

.........................................................................................................................

The smell of the cell made your stomach turn but you tried to ignore it, and you turned on the lantern to illuminate the small place. Daryl was curled up on the ground, and he hadn’t even looked at you when you walked in. It broke your heart to see someone like that. The idea that you were part if it made you hate yourself.

“Hello. I’m a nurse, I came to check on you and see those injuries,” you announced, and you couldn’t help how your voice shook. “Please, don’t try anything. If you hurt me Negan’ll cut your hands and the ones of the people you love.” You felt awful threatening him like that, but you didn’t want to risk it. You knew that the man was probably dangerous, and now that you were alone with him, you were a bit afraid. Still, he didn’t seem that dangerous at that moment, he was still not moving or saying anything.

Not knowing what to say, you knelt down next to the man, reaching out to check his vitals, wondering if maybe he was unconscious. At soon as he felt your hand on him, though, the man flinched away roughly, sitting up and pushing you away on the process. You yelped, scared, falling onto your ass, and you were about to call for Dwight, but Daryl didn’t do anything else. He’d backed himself against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest, gaze still down, though you noticed him breathing hard. Probably you’d scared him. You couldn’t blame he’d flinch like that, after everything that had been done to him.

“It’s okay. I only want to help.” You raised your hands, showing them to him before reaching down to open the first-aid kit, showing it to him too, though you weren’t sure if he was even looking. “I’m going to check your injuries, so please, don’t push me away. I won’t hurt you, so please don’t hurt me.”

If the man did something to you, Negan was going to be pissed, and you knew it wouldn’t be only at Dwight and the prisoner, you’d pay too. But for now, Daryl wasn’t trying to attack you, and so you decided to keep going.

Something on the wall caught your attention and you reached out to take off a picture and examine it. It showed the remains of what had been a person but was barely recognizable anymore, and you felt as if you might throw up. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. You knew who had done that. And probably that person had been someone Daryl had loved. You couldn’t believe Dwight could be this cruel.

Daryl had glanced at you when you reached out, though he dropped his gaze again, and you noticed he’d begun shaking. It broke your heart. You tore the picture into pieces and threw it into the first-aid kit.

You tried to take a hold on yourself and switch into nurse mood. If the man had been ruthlessly beaten, you wanted to check if he had any fractured rib or internal bleeding, and also check if they had damaged his already injured shoulder. You reached to, very gently, try to lift his sweatshirt, but Daryl flinched roughly again, and you let go. You didn’t know what to do. Dwight wasn’t allowing you much time, and you weren’t making much progress.

“Sir, I’m really not going to hurt you. I’m a trained nurse.” You tried again.

“You’re his wife.”

You were surprised to hear the man’s low rasp. You hadn’t heard him talk before. He was still looking down and not moving, yet he’d spoken, and for a second you didn’t know what to say, taken aback. He was right, though. Maybe Daryl thought you were going to hurt him, maybe he was scared of you…it made your heart clench. Probably he despised you, you’d understand it, most times you did too. You were part of this too, in a way, even if you’d never wanted to.

“Yes, I am one of his wives,” you said, honest. “But I’m also a nurse, that’s my job too. So please, let me do my job.”

You reached out to push his hair away from his face and see how bad it looked, but he flinched away again. You let out a sigh. Not progress. Then, Daryl surprised you speaking again.

“What you mean, wives?”

“You thought I was the queen of the castle?” You scoffed. “There’s several of us…you see, some people here are Saviors, but others are workers, under Negan’s control, doing different kind of things…some of us are wives, we work looking pretty, listening to Negan, and…well…” you trailed off. “And as I told you, I work as a nurse too, but I don’t have much time, so please…”

You reached your hand again but didn’t touch him. This time Daryl didn’t flinch, and so you dared to actually brush his hair away from his face and gently turn his face towards the light of the lantern. Daryl took a deep breath when you touched him, and you noticed him shivering again, but he didn’t pull away.

He’d several open wounds and bruises on his face, his lip was cut open and his nose was bleeding. He’d deep, dark circles under his eyes, both from lack of sleep and proper food. You didn’t think you’d ever seen any of Negan’s prisoners looking this bad.

You let go of his face to pour disinfectant in a piece of gauze, and you began to clean the wounds and wash the blood off his face. You knew you must be hurting him, but Daryl didn’t flinch.

“Did he send you to do this?” He rasped. “What for?”

“Negan? He doesn’t know I’m here.” You replied, focused on deciding if his eyebrow might need butterfly stitches that you didn’t have on hand.

“Then why?”

“Told you, I’m a nurse.” You decided to just press the gauze against the open eyebrow, hating how it made Daryl flinch, and hope it’d stop bleeding. “Can’t do nothing when someone’s hurt like this.”

Daryl scoffed at that. “Your husband has done worse.”

“I know…” You whispered, biting your lip and feeling a lump in your throat. “I’m sorry…about what he did to your people, about what he’s doing to you…” Daryl just scoffed at your words again, and you knew what he thought of you. “Look…all he wants from you is for you to join him. I know it’s horrible, I know how he is, but he wants you alive, whereas Dwight seems to actually want to see you die in here. Just tell Negan you’ll work for him, and this will stop.”

Daryl pulled away from you roughly at that, scaring you, and he looked at you for the first time, angry, fierce and dangerous blue eyes glaring at you, despite the pain and the condition he was in. He was dangerous, you could see it, feel it, you could see why Negan wanted him, and yet you didn’t call for Dwight. Daryl didn’t try to do anything to you, just glared you down.

“That’s what you came to do? Talk me into joining him with your nurse bullshit?” He accused and you shook your head.

“Told you, none but Dwight knows I’m here. But if you don’t work for Negan, he’s gonna let you die in here but he won’t kill you, he’s gonna keep doing this to you…” As the words left your mouth, you knew there was no point. Beaten and broke, tortured, and yet, you could see Daryl wasn’t going to give in. You wished you could be as strong-willed and brave as he seemed to be. Maybe things would have been different…

“Maybe you decided you wanted to, but I ain’t no one’s bitch.”

You just nodded at that, feeling tears in your eyes, but you deserved it.

“Time’s up.” Dwight yanked the door open and you got up to face him. Daryl hugged his knees against his chest again, gaze down, silent and unmoving again.

“If he has internal bleeding he’s going to die in here.”

“He’s well enough.” Dwight shrugged as if nothing. “If he wants a doctor appointment then he knows what he has to do.”

“What’s your problem with this man?! Have you always been this big of an asshole?!” You snapped, but Dwight just grabbed your arm to try and walk you out of the cell, but you pulled away. “He needs to eat, real food. And he needs to sleep. And it’d be wonderful if you stopped beating him!”

“Look, Y/N, you can be a nurse and you can be Negan’s wife, but you have no power here, you can’t give me orders,” Dwight stated and you resisted the urge to spat at him. Instead, you just turned over and left the cell yourself, not wanting nothing to do with Dwight anymore.

For another couple of days, you didn’t see Daryl again, though you knew he hadn’t died, but you didn’t dare to go check on him, in case Dwight might dare to tell Negan, you didn’t want him getting the wrong impression. One afternoon you were on your way to the infirmary to check on another wife who wasn’t feeling good, when you heard a noise, someone being beaten…you’d learned to recognize that sound during your time at the Sanctuary.

You rushed to it, finding it coming from a Savior’s room, and through the open door you saw Dwight kicking Daryl onto the ground. You didn’t know what made you get so angry, maybe seeing Daryl defenceless, tied up as he was, the unfairness of it all, your guilt and  disgust at being part of that hateful place were growing day by day, getting too hard to ignore it, all it seemed to explode as you got into the room.

“What the hell is your problem!” You grabbed Dwight’s arm, taking him by surprise and yanking him away from Daryl, who seemed surprised too, as he looked at you from the ground.

“Now, doll, who’d have thought you had that in you!” Negan’s amused voice made the blood in your veins freeze. You hadn’t even realized he was in the room, focused as you had been in Dwight. Negan grinned at you and you looked at him like a deer in headlights. “Are all nurses this passionate about their patients?”

“I…I…” You babbled, unsure of what to do. “Sorry…I thought…I didn’t know...”

“Don’t apologize, darling, in fact, what a turn on. You’re on fire!” Negan chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at you, but you thought you could see danger behind his eyes. You knew you needed to think quick.

“You still want him to work for you? Because if you keep this up, there’s no way he will.” You tried to sound as confident as you could. “He’s going to die, he can’t keep going without proper food and rest, and how many beats you think he can take?” You shrugged, hoping you were delivering your point, trying not to be scared as you gave your opinion, even if it wasn’t totally true. “So you either stop that and get him working, or you kill him already…”

Negan’s smile didn’t leave his face, and he was looking at you as if surveying you. You tried not to shiver under his gaze, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, not physically, at least not until…

“Thanks for the opinion, doll, you might be right.” He took that awful bat and approached Daryl. “See, I just had a conversation with Daryl here. I showed him around so he could see everything he could get if he becomes a Savior and work for me…and can you believe he still says no? So yeah, you’re right, if he’s not going to work for me…”

You couldn’t help your gasp when he lifted his bat, he was going to kill Daryl and it was your fault. Negan stopped the bat right before hitting Daryl, though Daryl didn’t even flinch. Negan chuckled and looked at you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you know I wouldn’t do that in front of you…now, look at that.” He focused his attention back on Daryl, using the bat to lift his head. “Second time he doesn’t flinch…I still like him…you don’t want to be a Savior? You’re still going to work your ass off here.” Negan took a step back and Daryl’s head hung low again. “Dwight, throw him into his cell.”

Dwight only nodded, dragging Daryl to his feet and pushing him off the room.

“He’s one of a kind, isn’t him?” Negan said, throwing a gripping arm around your shoulders, and you didn’t dare him to say anything. “I want him, and I’m going to get him one way or another.”

“Sounds like you plan on marrying him too.” You joked nervously, hoping to light up the mood, and to your relief, Negan laughed.

“I might! Maybe he’ll like that more.” He chuckled. “Now come on darling, I wasn’t kidding when I said you turned me on, I want to see that fire of yours somewhere else…”

You let him guide you out of the room, trying not to shudder.

*

Next day, you were walking around the Sanctuary, tired of being kept in the wive’s rooms for most of the day, when you caught sight of Daryl. He was moping the floor, untied, though you noticed Dwight close to him. At some point, the man grabbed Daryl by the collar of the shirt to walk him somewhere else. It seemed Negan had decided to actually get Daryl working for him.

Seeing him untied worried you a bit, since you thought he might try to escape again and then Negan might very well kill him, though he seemed too weak and broken to try anything. It still broke your heart. You wanted to yell, and cry, and break stuff. It was like you couldn’t deal with more unfairness, with how horrible everything was in that place, it felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, like you couldn’t deal with it, it didn’t let you breathe…but you didn’t know what to do.

You still didn’t dare to try and run away. You didn’t dare to try to change anything from the inside either. There’d been some quiet talks among some other wives, whispers about how maybe you all together could try and kill Negan without him seeing it coming, but it seemed too dangerous, if Negan saw it coming you all would be worse than dead. And what if you managed? Those Saviors of him would fight for the power and who knew how many people would get hurt in the process, and the new leader could be even worse, even if it was hard to think.

You felt so helpless you wanted to cry.

You glanced at Daryl again, Dwight had him now working sorting something you couldn’t catch while he talked with another Savior, and you had an idea. Maybe you could make Daryl’s life a tiny, tiny bit less harsh…

*

“No. Absolutely-fucking-no! Are you out of your mind?!”

Alright, maybe you should have thought it better before bringing it up to Negan…but now you couldn’t back down.

“Come on! Someone has to clean the infirmary, and we got all those boxes of medicines and medical stuff I wanted to sort, and it’d be nice to have someone helping…”

“And the first person that comes to your mind is him? I’m seriously starting to think you want me to marry him and have a threesome.”

“Yeah, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as if it was truly ridiculous. “That sounds more like you.”

“Then what’s all this bullshit about Daryl helping you around?” Negan kept eyeing you as if he were sure you were hiding something, though maybe it was your panicked imagination.

“I’ve seen him doing stuff like that! And anyway, that’s all you wanted from him? To have him moping floors? I thought you wanted him as one of yours…”

“That idiot of Dwight doesn’t seem able to get the man to agree.”

“Maybe Dwight doesn’t know how. You heard you catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Maybe treating that man like shit is not going to work, he doesn’t seem to be one to break…” You were afraid you were being too daring, but Negan was listening. “Have him helping me and let me talk to him. I’ll tell him how life here actually is, he’ll see how it can be good. Soon he won’t want to go back to be dragged by Dwight and to keep living in that cell. Let me talk him around. I’ll get him working for you.” You hoped you were sounding convincing, and judging by Negan’s grin, you thought you were.

“And I thought you’d given me enough, doll.” He reached out to stroke your cheek. “I love how eager to please you always are.” He chuckled deeply. “Okay, let’s try it your way. If it doesn’t work…well, Daryl’s going to regret it.”

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We got some reader and Daryl interaction! What did you think of it? And it seems the girl has some plans in mind to try and help him...in her own way, as best as she can, though well, you know how Negan can be.

As always, thank you for reading, drop me a comment if you have time, and excuse my english and mistakes since it’s not my first language.

If you want to be (un)tagged let me know.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon & reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

[phroyd]

It was just hours before President Trump was set to take the stage for his rally in Tulsa last month when the news broke: Six staff at the site had just tested positive for the coronavirus.

The president, who was en route from Washington, was livid that the news was public, according to people familiar with his reaction. In the tent outside the BOK Center, where campaign staff were being tested before the event, the release of the information caused a scramble.

Health-care workers were quizzed about whether they had leaked the information about the positive cases to the news media — and then were given a different list of people to test, according to two people with direct knowledge of the events who, like others in this story, spoke on the condition of anonymity to describe internal conversations.

The flurry inside the tent was part of a cascade of events triggered by Trump’s insistence on holding the June 20 rally inside the Tulsa arena, despite the adamant warnings of health officials about the rising risks of the novel coronavirus in Oklahoma.

Tim Murtaugh, a campaign spokesman, said the Trump campaign “performed more tests than originally anticipated” in Tulsa, adding that the event was in compliance with Oklahoma state guidelines and that campaign employees “wore masks during the rally in accordance with [Centers for Disease Control and Prevention] guidelines.”

He did not respond to follow-up questions about who received the additional tests at the site, which provided screening for not just staff, but local leaders and top Trump supporters, as well. He declined to specify whether more campaign staffers than anticipated were tested.

The White House referred requests for comment to the campaign.

On Sunday, a second round of testing was provided in Virginia for campaign staff, according to people familiar with the event. Murtaugh, who initially declined to discuss the additional tests, later acknowledged that the campaign had arranged for the procedure for those who had returned from Tulsa and anyone else who wanted one and contracted a testing firm in Virginia to handle the volume quickly.

“We care about our people and their safety,” said Murtaugh, who did not respond to questions about whether any of the tests were positive.

In the past two weeks, the campaign has contended with waves of fallout from the rally, where the president put on a pugilistic performance before an arena that was only partly filled.

Two more advance staffers tested positive after returning to Washington. And dozens of Secret Service agents on the trip were ordered to self-quarantine at home because two of the staff who tested positive in Tulsa were Secret Service employees.

Dozens of Secret Service officers and agents told to self-quarantine after Trump’s Tulsa rally

Videos and photos then emerged showing that before the rally, workers removed thousands of “Do Not Sit Here, Please!” stickers from seats in the arena that were intended to mark recommended distances between rallygoers.

In Tulsa, where many rally attendees did not wear masks, coronavirus cases climbed in the days immediately following the event, according to local health officials, who have said it is still unknown whether the gathering contributed to the problem.

Some top campaign officials, including campaign manager Brad Parscale, self-quarantined at home while other employees went to hotels, according to campaign advisers.

Campaign aides had hoped the rally would be a needed return to normal — urged on by the president who wanted to go back on the trail, both for his own political fortunes and to signal that the country was on the rebound. They noted that other large events, including protests across the country after the George Floyd killing in Minneapolis, took place before the rally.

But some advisers now see the rally as ill-advised, an event that created a cascade of problems that have challenged the campaign and its staff. Campaign officials had previously said they were planning more large rallies, but the Tulsa event has led to increased concerns and debates on how — and whether — they can be pulled off.

Michael Glassner, the longtime architect of Trump’s rallies, had been reassigned in the campaign to handle lawsuits, campaign officials said Wednesday, confirming a report in Axios.

Several Tulsa residents and business leaders had warned that the rally in their city would inevitably lead to the spread of the virus in their community and possible deaths. A group of them went to court trying to block the Trump campaign from hosting the rally. They expressed concern about the number of spectators — and people in Trump’s entourage — who would probably not wear masks.

The Los Angeles company that managed the BOK Center acknowledged that the gathering created substantial risks.

“We certainly agree that the CDC and other relevant medical experts believe that this type of event is ill advised,” Joseph Farris, an attorney for the company that manages the BOK Center, said during a court hearing before the rally. “No question about it. And we don’t argue that the CDC . . . classifies events like this as presenting the highest possible risk.”

Workers removed thousands of social distancing stickers before Trump’s Tulsa rally, according to video and a person familiar with the set up

The campaign had agreed to test its staff before the event, and a tent was set up at the site, staffed by health-care workers with equipment.

Among those who passed through were Trump campaign workers and top allies and surrogates, according to people with knowledge of the operation. Staffers and top supporters entered the arena wearing masks after they’d been tested, though many rallygoers did not.

Health-care workers inside the steamy tent initially were given a list of more than 200 people to test, two people with knowledge of the event said.

But then some people began testing positive. At one point, a campaign staffer was tested three times after a first test showed up positive — and all three tests came back positive, according to a person with knowledge of the incident.

After the news that six people had tested positive, health-care workers were questioned about whether they had shared the information and given a different list of employees to test, according to the two people with direct knowledge. It is unclear how the list was changed.

The situation made the health-care workers uncomfortable, the people said, and some said they thought that people who needed to be tested were not.

Murtaugh said that testing was not halted or limited, but declined to provide details.

In the aftermath, some Secret Service agents returning from the Tulsa trip were directed not to get tested until Wednesday, days after the rally, an instruction that was given without explanation and which some agents found perplexing, according to two people familiar with the instructions.

The Secret Service declined to comment.

Back at the campaign’s headquarters in Alexandria, many staff were not wearing masks and some feared that could increase the possible spread after the return of those who were in Tulsa, according to people familiar with their concerns.

Asked whether staff wear masks in the office, Murtaugh said the campaign follows CDC guidelines.

Meanwhile, Tulsa County saw record-setting spikes of coronavirus cases in the days after the Trump rally — with the discovery of roughly 200 to 250 new cases each day.

In all, the county charted 902 new cases of the virus in the week after the rally, an increase of 15 percent over the week that led up the president’s visit. This week, new cases have fallen slightly, with an average of 93 positive cases per day so far.

Phroyd

#trump #tulsa #covid

[samuelburtonblog]

DISCORD THREAD | SAM X SKY:

feat: @skyking91

date: 9/18 directly after the party

summary: sky bandages up sam’s wounds and they confess their feelings for each other 

mentioned: @nahcam & @eeveecrmchl

Sky

Sky was outside taking a juul break. She didn’t do it much but when she got drunk, she loved the fucking head rush. Anyway, Sky was minding her damn business when some crazy dude came up to her. She was terrified for a moment being a sex worker, she was always afraid of being the victim of a hate crime or attacked by one of her clients. She felt like she recognized that guy, but it was dark and the man seemed bruised and bloodied. What the fuck? “Oi!” She screamed at him as he ran away. “What the fuck?” Sky said out loud to herself. She started walking in the opposite direction that he ran, and did in fact see a man who definitely just got his ass handed to him. As she got closer, she felt like that recognized the man. She picked up in a sprint, as fast as her heels would let her go, when she realized who it was. “SAM!!!!” She screamed, her voice echoed off the tall buildings. “Oh my god!” She got down to her knees and put her hand on his shoulders. “Sammy!” She begged. “What the fuck happened? Oh god.” his face was a disaster. “We need to get you home. Her flat was close. “Can you walk a few blocks?” Not Sam. Not after Eevee. That was going to be far too much for her.

Sam

boy, was sam glad that sky had found him. he wasn't sure how long he would have been alone out here if she hadn't. he groaned, squinting as he tried to look at her but it was dark and his face hurt and he was still trying to focus on getting air back into his lungs. his throat burned and he was sure he was gonna have some bruising their as well. fuck cam was strong. he mentally assessed the rest of his injuries. his head was killing him, but it didn't feel like he was in danger of a concussion. no broken bones. he was lucky it wasn't more serious. "mmm, help me up," he mumbled. all he wanted to do was get the fuck out of here and sleep. he was so fucking exhausted and any of the energy he'd managed to generate during his brief nap had been literally beaten out of him. he reached for sky, trying to find something to grab onto, to stabilize him. 

Sky

Her shoulders fell with relief when he responded to her. Okay. He could understand her and talk back to her. Good start. But his voice was so raspy, and she could tell he was having a hard time breathing. She gripped onto him when he reached out for her. She got to her feet and tried her very hardest to help him up. He was so much bigger than her. “Okay.” Once she finally got him standing up, she wrapped her arm around his waist and gave all of her strength to helping him stand up. She was panting, trying to calm herself down and keep herself from crying. Not Sam. “The lofts not far, love.” She encouraged him, even though she was fucking panicking.

Sam

sam was almost positive that if it weren't for sky, he'd be in a lot worse shape than he was now. fuck, she was really kind of his guardian angel this week. if she hadn't been the one to tell him, if she hadn't come and gotten him and sat with him at the hospital... well that wasn't worth thinking about right now. sam needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other right now. he tried not to lean on her too heavily. she was so much smaller than him and he didn't want to knock her over. why did he get into that stupid fight. he groaned, though it was more so a reaction to his own stupidity as opposed to the pain. and he was still a drunken mess. he really fucking hated himself right now and though he was the one bleeding out all over the place, it was sky he felt sorry for. and he told her as much. "i'm sorry." it came out raspy and quiet and sam felt embarrassed and ashamed that she had to clean him up. this whole situation with eevee hadn't been easy on her either and it was unfair for him to be so fucking selfish. 

Sky

No, no. He wasn’t doing that. That was going to set her off and make her cry. Sky was juggling so many different emotions in her mind. She was mad. She was really fucking mad. At Sam. At whoever beat him up. And just the world in general right now. She was so scared. Her mind was going to so many dark places right now. What if she hadn’t found him when she did? How much longer would he have been laying there? Scared and mu himself. In pain. She could tell he was hurting. And that her hurt. When Sam hurt, Sky hurt. Did someone else start a fight with him? Or did someone attack him? What the fuck had happened? “No. Stop that. Don’t apologize — you’re — Don’t make yourself feel like that. It’s okay.” The walk home was taking longer that normal. They were going half the speed of her normally New York City pace. “Almost there.” She should have Ubered, but her flat was so close.

Sam

once sam was cleaned up and sober he was going to make sure to tell sky how much he appreciated her and everything she’d done for him. all this time he’d been mourning the loss of the last person he felt sure he could count on, but sky had been there for him nearly the entire time since. he’d really taken her friendship for granted and he’d be sure to make it up to her once he could walk on his own. he was glad they were going to her flat. regardless of whether or not he’d ended up on his ass this evening, he wouldn’t have wanted to return to his apartment alone anyway. he nodded in response when she told him they were close, using the back of his hand to wipe away some blood that was spilling from where the skin had broken over his nose. he was a disgusting bloody mess and he was hoping sky had something for him to other wear than his blood stained t-shirt.

Sky

They finally got to her loft after what seemed like a 3 mile block. Even though they had only been walking for less than 10 minutes. They stumbled in her apartment and were greeted by a very loud Kyro who seemed to be just as panicked as Sky. She meant to tell her dog to shut up, but she was too focused on making sure that Sam was okay. “Sit.” She demanded, as she pulled out her kitchen chair for him and plopped him down on the seat. She took a deep breath of relief when she finally let go of him. He made sure he wasn’t going to fall over on himself before she turned to pour him a glass of water and get the first aide kit. He was a mess. And sky was no doctor. What if he had an internal injury or something? Sky had to stop getting so dark. He was fine. She had to keep telling herself that. She first started to wipe the blood from his face and hands.

Sam

sam sat with a heavy sigh, relieved to be off his feet. he gratefully took the glass of water from her and slowly drank from it. what he really wanted was some aspirin but sky was already hovering over him and cleaning his wounds. it stung and he made a face, biting down in the inside of his mouth as he let her work. his eyes drifted up to her face and he watched her as she took care of him. she looked worried, and sam wanted to tell her that it was okay and that he was fine, but he wasn’t sure that would mean all that much coming from him at the moment. he felt an overwhelming surge of love for her in that moment, his eyes big and sad as he continued to focus on his breathing. he reached out and touched her lightly in an attempt to comfort her.

Sky

That was it. That’s what made her lose it. The touch on the shoulder. She paused for a moment and started crying. She couldn’t handle another person she cared about being hurt. She was trying to stay strong for him again. He needed it. But she couldn’t. She was just so scared. She tried to pull herself together because she knew she needed to help Sam first. That was all that matter right now. She could cry later. “Okay. We need to clean this.” She said to herself. She got up to wash her hands before she started rubbing the antiseptic on his skin. She was trying not to press down too hard and hurt him even more. She sniffled as she cleaned him up, wiping her tears right the back of her hand. “Fuck.” She cursed under her breath.

Sam

oh fuck. he hadn’t meant to make her cry. sam panicked a little, trying to figure out how to make it okay when she got up to wash her hands. “sky...” he said, his eyes following her as she readied the antiseptic. it stung, but he was too preoccupied with the way she was crying to worry much about that. “hey,” he said reaching out to touch her arm again. “it’s okay, really, i’m okay. it’s just some blood and some bruising, i’m okay, i’m here.” and she looked so nice in her outfit for the party and he didn’t want to ruin it but he was also pretty sure that if he didn’t hug her right then that he’d never forgive himself. his hand slid up from her arm and looped round her shoulders as he pulled her in close to him. “see i’m fine,” he said into her hair, just wanting to stop her from crying. he hated seeing her sad and he hadn’t being the cause of her sadness even more. if he could help it, she’d never cry again. he kissed the top of her head before pulling back to look at her. he held her face in his hand, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a small tear. his hand lingered, his eyes soft, and his lips twitched upwards into a small smile.

Sky

Her felt her ex grab her in a way that was meant to comfort her, but that familiar touch only made her cry more. She was used to people not being around for a long time in her life. It had happened to her all the time as a child when she was moved from family to family. Never really staying in the same place for more than a few years. But New York has become her home. She’d never lived in one place longer. And Sam had to stay. When he say him lying on the ground completely helpless, for a split second she thought she would lose him. Sam couldn’t leave her. She took short breathes, trying to catch her breathe. She finally let out two big shaky breaths when he attempted to calm her. The peck on the head was actually comforting too. She looked up at him with dark, swollen eyes. Oh God. Sky was just realizing now that no matter how many people she had cared about over the course of her life, Sam was the one that she wanted to stay with her forever. She needed him to never leave her. She really thought she had lost him for a minute back there. The actress took a deep breathe and slowly stopped crying. She reached to place her tiny hand on his cheek. Sky wasn’t think straight, and got so lost in his eyes that she almost forgot what was happening. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, lingering close to him for a moment. It felt like a magnet was pulling them together, and she could barely stop herself from pressing her lips to his.

Sam

sky’s hand on his face was a comfort. it was familiar. and somewhere within sam a rush of feelings he’d thought forgotten came flooding back to him. she pressed a kiss to his cheek and he was more sure in that moment than he was sure of anything else that he needed her like he needed air. she pulled back, though she was still close and sam’s gaze lowered and fell to her lips, something stirring inside him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. he was so exhausted both physically and emotionally and he was so vulnerable and in the moment he felt a need to be close to his ex in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. the distance closed between them and their lips met and sam could feel himself melt into her, closing his eyes as he pulled her closer, needing so desperately for her to be with him here in this moment.

Sky

This was not the time nor the place. They were both hurting. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.  They just needed to feel some type of comfort. She was trying to convince herself of anything else besides the truth. She felt him pull her into closer, and she deepens their kiss. She put both hands up to his face gently, being careful not to hurt him. She breathed him in for a moment before she before she pulled away to scan his face for a reaction. She needed to know what he was thinking. Because she was so damn confused, but wanted this to so badly be genuine. There had been a few times she wished she would have giving up sex work for him, but she hadn’t felt that more until this moment. How could she ever take him for granted?

Sam

sam was not in the frame of mind to be rushing into anything but it felt so good to be with sky like this again. she meant so much to him and he’d been so happy when she’d told him she still cared for him. hell, that she’d still loved him. and for the split second between her confession and the gin spraying out of his nose, he’d thought she was talking about this. he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed kissing her, holding her, and he was breathless when she pulled away from him. his eyes were on hers and they were so full of genuine need. a desperation to be close to her again. he cradled her face in his hand, trying to gauge whether or not she wanted this as much as he did.

Sky

Sky didn’t know what to say. Clearly he was waiting for her to say something next. But for once in her life, she couldn’t seem to find any. She suddenly realized that Sam was still bleeding and needed to be bandaged up. “Let’s just...get you cleaned up right now.” Again, she needed to remind herself that taking car of Sam was her first priority. “Here.” She grabbed something Motrin from her purse and handed her three tiny pills. “If you weren’t drunk I’d give you some of my ambien.” She joked as she started to wrap bandages around his arms and taped some onto his hands. “I still have your Fleetwood Mac shirt. You can wear that tonight.” She told him. They needed to have a real talk but she knew that they were both too fragile for that right now. She dropped her head to pulled of his shoes. “Go wash up in the bathroom and I’ll look for the shirt.” She told him as she finished wrapped his wounds and stood up to offer him a hand.

Sam

fuck. she was pulling away from him. it was the sensible thing to do. they were both so vulnerable and they weren’t thinking rationally. but what sam was feeling was so real and he was fearful that if they left things alone then he’d regret it. he let her bandage his wounds, watching as she busied herself with taking care of him. when she offered a hand he took it, but he stayed seated. “sky,” he said, and he hadn’t intended for his voice to come out the way he did, all quiet and pleading. “can we talk about this?” because sam was still thinking about the kiss, and he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until they’d settled this.

Sky

She felt her throat tighten and heart stopped when he asked her to talk. She wasn’t ready for this tonight. Her head hung in defeat as she sat across from him at the table. She just realized that she had some of his blood on her outfit, but that was neither here nor there at this point. This was a conversation she wanted to have in the morning, but deep down Sky knew that neither of them would be able to sleep if they didn’t. “Okay.” She told a few shaky breaths. She looked over at him silently, hoping he’d start.

Sam

her reaction concerned him. had he misread things entirely? was she not feeling the same way he was feeling? he cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably, looking at her as he spoke. “did you not... i mean do you not...” he looked away then, slightly flustered, trying to figure out what it was he wanted to say. this was definitely a conversation better suited for the morning when they were rested and emotions weren’t running so high. but sam needed to know. “did you not feel that?”

Sky

That was actually kind of adorable. The way he was getting all flustered. Of course she felt that. How could hell she ignore a feeling like that. “No. I did. Of course I did.” She wiped them rest of her tears from her face. “Sam...” She reached for his hand. “I thought something way more terrible happened to you tonight for a split second. And thats when I realized that I felt...the...that.” She waved her hand to motion between them because she could really find the rights words fo describe how she felt. It was love, but it was also fear and uncertainty.

Sam

sam felt guilty about scaring her like that. it’d been his own fault that she found him that way, bleeding all over the pavement, struggling for air. if he’d have found her like that... he didn’t want to think about it. but he was here now and he was okay. sky was doing a great job bandaging him back up. he squeezed her hand gently. “i’m sorry i scared you...” he murmured, meeting her gaze again. he thought about how grateful he’d been that sky had found him and how he’d wanted to tell her how much he’d appreciated her when they were walking back to her flat. “sky... if you hadn’t been there... if you hadn’t been here through all of this i don’t know what i would have done.” something really stupid, probably. “sky, i need you,” he told her, his voice urgent.

Sky

Fear struck deep through her body when he told her that he didn’t know what he would have done if Sky hadn’t been there. She needed to stop thinking like that. She reached out for his hand, dark eyes pleading with him. “Sam...” She began, taking a shaky breath. “I need you too. I’m — im sorry I didn’t realize just how much I needed you until now. You’re the best man I ever met. I’m sorry...I’m sorry I took that for granted before. Her eyes grazed over his beaten face. That was so hard to look at, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. “I’m sorry for everything.” Of course, she was referring to what she refused to give up which inevitably caused their break up. She still completely blamed herself that one.

Sam

sam ducked his head, eyebrows knitting together as he frowned, shaking his head. it had sucked, ending things with sky. in many ways sam felt like she was his other half. they just really got each other and sam felt like a better man when he was with her. she was such a positive force in his life. but she wasn't entirely to blame for things ending. sam had been jealous and possessive. and while he knew that sky didn't have feelings for those other men and knew that it was just a job, something he'd known about before they became involved, it still got to him. he wanted her all to himself. and it had been unfair for him to ask her to give it up entirely for him. "don't be, really," he said. "that doesn't matter now," he told her. and it didn't, not after everything else that had happened. what was important was that they were here together now, here for each other to hold each other up when they both felt things crumbling around them. "we're here now, you and me, that's what matters, right?" he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "you mean so much to me... more than you know..."

Sky

Sky had never been happier in her life than when she was with Sam. Of course, there wasn't many good parts of her life to compare it too. Still. He made her feel like a fucking queen, like she deserved nothing but good. When she had gotten her first role on broadway, Sam was the first person she wanted to tell. She wanted to share her life with him, and she never stopped wanting that. It just took this to make Sam realize that. Of course, deep down she had always been thinking that. She had just tried so hard to push those feelings back. This was just so complicated and Sky was so confused, but everything that Sam was saying...she felt that too. "Sam..." She looked down at their hands then back up to him. "I love you."

Sam

sam couldn’t believe it’s taken him so much time to realize what was right in front of him. he’d felt so alone as if everyone who’d ever mattered to him had left him in some way or another. and while he and sky had spent their time apart, if he had ever needed anything, she would have been there for him. she was just amazing like that, always had been. at her words sam’s heart swelled and he felt safe and he felt home. seeing sky always felt like returning hole after a long day and in the moment sam couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. he reached up and touched sky’s face, smiling at her meaningfully despite the pain. “i love you too.”

Sky

Sky hated that it took something like this to make her realize how she felt about him, but her heart was still full regardless. This was Sam. Her Sam. She closed her eyes and smiled softly to herself when he touched her, just focusing on his calming touch. Her eyes opened when he spoke to her. Her heart swelled. She took his hand from her face and kissed the back of his palm. This felt so right. The few months they spent apart felt so wrong. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She confessed.

Sam

“it was stupid, it was my fault,” sam admitted. his gaze dropped to his lap, ashamed. looking at it with a bit of clarity now, it was really a cry for help. he’d really been slipping lately, thinking he could handle everything on his own. he looked at sky again and his smile widened, knowing now that he didn’t have to. “i’m not going to do anything like that again.”

Sky

“Okay.” Sky nodded. She still had so many questions to ask him about the fight. She was sure it wasn’t entirely his fault. Why though? Why would Sam get into it like this? Did it have anything to do with Eevee or was something else going on? “Come to bed.” She told him, standing up and grabbing his hand. “You need to rest. And you can tell me what happened in the morning.” She was eager to know that story. And she wanted to know who did this to him. Now that she knew Sam was okay, she was starting to get angry. But Sam’s health was still her number one priority. That could wait until the morning.

Sam

sam got slowly to his feet. he was still dead tired but he felt better now than he had when he’d stumbled through the door and that was entirely thanks to sky. he realized then that he didn’t know if he’d ever actually told her ‘thank you.’ he leaned in and gave her a small tender kiss on the cheek. “thank you, sky.” he said as he pulled away. the word ‘bed’ had never sounded so good and sam couldn’t wait to get some much needed sleep. he sensed it would be a lot easier with sky nearby.

Sky

Sky just shook her head because she didn’t need to be thanked for this. She was just grateful that he was okay, and that she was the one to have found him. Her heart fluttered a little when he gave her a loving peck on the cheek. She reached up to trace tiny circles on his face around his bloody cuts. She reached for his hand and started gently pulling him across her studio apartment and towards her bed. The idea of sleeping next to Sam actually excited her and comforted her at the same time. She hated sleeping without him for the few months they were apart, and she wanted so badly to lay next to him again. “Get undressed. I’ll clean you clothes.” She went into her closet and dig through it to find one of his old t shirts. It was a shirt that she never wanted to throw away, but felt like she couldn’t wear again.

Sam

the way sky touched his face was so gentle and loving that sam felt like his heart might explode. he let her lead him to bed and did as she said, slowly pulling his shirt off over his head. he winced a little, a sharp pain radiating from his shoulder. he must have landed on it funny when cam had slammed him to the ground. after he’d successfully removed his shirt, he stripped down the rest of the way to his boxers and sat on the edge of the bed. he’d forgotten how lonely it was sleeping on your own when he and sky had broken up. bowie helped a little, and thank god there was another living thing occupying sam’s space because he just might have gone crazy otherwise, but it hadn’t been the same. he’d missed holding her so much and early on he’d had to convince himself not to call her while he lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, trying to fight off his insomnia. he couldn’t wait to hold her again.

Sky

Sky whipped her head around to look at Sam when she heard in wince and pain, which caused her heart to sink into her arse. She had to remind herself that Sam was okay. She took a deep breath before she walked back over to Sam. She gave him a worried expression as she sat back down next to him. She needed to get him ice. With his shirt off, she could see all of his bruises so clearly. Which of course, made her heart pang again. She gently helped Sam put his shirt on, trying not to hurt him even more. Once he shirt was on Sky stood up. She had completely forgotten that she was still in her outfit from the party. “I’ll be back with your water and some ice. Lay down.” She instructed him, pulling up the covers and adjusting a pillow for him. She washed up in the bathroom, changed in pjs, and turned the shower on while she let herself have a good cry into the bathroom sink. Just for a minute. She needed to get out before going back to bed with Sam. “Here.” She said when she finally returned to her bed. “More Motrin for the morning, water...” she set both down on the night stand next to him then slid in bed

Sam

sky was really good at this taking care of people business and sam thanked his lucky stars once again that she’d been the one to find him in the alleyway. though his body was sore and exhausted, but it was also thrumming with this sort of excited energy as a result of being close to sky like this again. the act of her helping him with his shirt alone was something so intimate. he watched as she left him to get cleaned up in the bathroom. sam climbed under the covers, settling into bed and already feeling at piece. he closed his eyes, focusing on evening out his breathing as he began to wind down. he opened his eyes when sky re-entered the room, placing the motrin and water on the bed side table. the temporary peace he’d found in the brief time he’d had alone vanished as she climbed into bed beside him. they were both tired and he was certain he’d be unconscious in a matter of minutes which was really a damn shame. even after their conversation earlier, sam was still uncertain about where that left them and what that would mean for them tomorrow. he loved her and she loved him and they needed each other if they were gonna make it through this intact. though lying in bed with sky was familiar, he was nervous being this close to her like this, like he’d do something wrong. he felt kind of like a teenager again. turning over on his side was a bit of a no go at this point unless he wanted to further fuck up his shoulder. he settled for reaching for her hand under the sheets, his fingers intertwining easily with hers.

Sky

All Sky wanted to do was snuggle up next to her ex, but she didn’t want to hurt him anymore. Ex seemed like an odd word for him now. Even though it always seemed weird. Now so more than ever though. This was all so uncertain and confusing. But one thing Sky knew for sure was that she loved Sam. She loved him so damn much she thought her heart might explode. She turned on her side and propped her head up on her hand to look at him, surely not taking her black eyes off of him until he fell asleep completely. She smiled as she felt their fingers intertwine, giving his hand and firm and comforting squeeze. That felt so familiar. It was so comforting, yet made her feel so uneasy at the same time. Where the hell were they going to go from here? Was she going to quit her job now. She had to keep reminding herself to just focus on Sam’s recovery. They’d work out the details eventually. A conversation she was both terrified yet excited to have. She pressed a light kiss on his forehead as he drifted off, unable to help herself. He was all bloody and mangled and bruised in the inside too. She just wanted to give him all the love in the whole world.

#discord #sky #my heart is full to bursting :')

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust Day Three: Pony Express

A/N: I am doing Yeehawgust this year as writing prompts (and I am VERY behind). While this is an RDR blog, this is ORIGINAL fiction. There is, obviously, a lot of inspiration draw from Red Dead as well as other Western games, movies, TV shows, and books that I love. Mostly in the names of characters. All characters, however, are my own. All prompts will follow the same group of characters.

As always, feedback is appreciated.

Soundtrack: The Man Comes Around - Johnny Cash

“Let me have it!” Sophia screeched.

“Why, Sophie? It isn’t yours is it, Sophie?”

Mickery snatched the envelop from Len’s hand. “Why does he call you that anyway? All the time I known ya, no one’s ever called ya that.”

“Why dontcha go ask him? And give me that before you go.”

“Hey!” Andy’s voice boomed out, scaring all of them to stillness. They stared at him wide-eyed. Andy’s anger was not a fun thing to be on the business end of. “I thought I told you guys to leave that alone. It ain’t none a y’all’s.”

           Andy took the envelope from Mickey and laid it on the bed where he could see it as he buttoned up his shirt. MacKenzie had asked him to take it to the neighboring ranch. It surely wasn’t anything too important cause she didn’t even seal it. It was a large manila envelope and all she did was button it closed.

“I think it��s certainly my business,” Sophia interrupted.

“And just how’s that?”

“Well, it’s my ranch.”

           The boys laughed and Sophia stubbornly put her hands on her hips. Sometimes they all felt like they were children, merely pretending to be adults. Occasionally they would break character. This was one of those times.

“It’s your daddy’s ranch, Soph.”

           Andy did feel for Sophia. He really did. Things had been all laid out for her just the way she wanted up ‘til recently. Her sister came home from a cushy corporate law job and just waltzed right into Sophia’s job. Andy badly wanted to know why. Had Sophia done something in the almost year he had been gone to warrant her replacing? Was MacKenzie just that good at running ranches? He couldn’t see that.

           Andy wanted to ask Mr. Alder – and had it been a year ago, he might’ve. But things just didn’t quite feel the same anymore. This was still home, but it felt like the family had changed. Len and Sophia – and Mickey – they were really all he had left. The only things that had remained the same in that year. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“That’s Sophie,” Len teased, pulling Andy from his thoughts.

           He found himself lost in thought a lot recently. Reflecting on the changes he was seeing, on life, on definitively not being a young man anymore. He’d never felt older. At just 35. How pathetic. While the others argued on about Sophia and her new nickname, he thought about how he felt. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. He didn’t know if he wanted to know.

           He buttoned up his shirt, put on his hat, and picked up the envelope. Paying no mind at all to his friends bickering behind him. He walked right on out, much to their shock. Was he even listening to them? No, no he was not. And ss he walked out of the house, he came face to face with another person he didn’t want to hear babble on about childish nonsense.

“Where ya goin’, Rockford? Runnin’ out on our race?”

Damn Ryan.

“No.”

“Well, it sure looks like you’re leavin’.’”

           Andy pushed passed him, not quite feeling like he owed him any sort of explanation. He knew he wasn’t handling all the changes well. Ryan was kind of his boss. But he had done nothing to cause Andy to show him any kind of respect. He was certainly not a leader.

           And Ryan was certainly not used to the lack of respect that Andy consistently showed him. Sure, he might’ve been an old hand, but he had been gone a long time and a lot of things had changed. He was going to have to be shown that things were much different now. He placed his hand firmly on Andy’s shoulder.

           Andy whirled around, face to face with Ryan. Both of the men felt angry and disrespected. It was an absolute recipe for disaster. Andy’s immediate urge to ball up his fist and punch Ryan directly in the face vouched for that.

“Ya wanna take your hand off ‘a me?”

“Ya wanna tell me where the hell you’re goin’?”

“No, I do not.”

           Ryan felt like he was at a crossroads here. If he let Andy get away with this disrespect, it would save a fight. A fight that could potentially land both of them in a lot of trouble with Hosea or Mr. Alder. But Andy would then always feel that he had a right to disrespect him. If he put him in his place, however –

“Let him go now.” His internal monologue was cut off by a feminine Southern voice. “I said now, Ryan.”

           MacKenzie Alder was her daddy’s eyes and ears on this ranch and she was out to prove she could do a better job of that than her sister. Two of their best workers killing each other would not lend itself to her favor. She was already at a disadvantage in that a lot of the older hands didn’t like her, especially Andy. They felt she had stolen the job from Sophia, even though she was immensely more qualified. Perhaps coming to Andy’s rescue would win her some point.

“Not that it is any of your business since Mr. Rockford is off the clock, but he’s running an errand for me. Taking some documents over to Green Rose.”

           Ryan looked at Andy a beat longer before letting him go and taking a step back. MacKenzie was a smart woman, she had to know that Andy had to be taught to respect more folks than just Sophia and those hands he hangs out with. They were not the ones in charge anymore.

“I expect no further issues from the two of you. Or both Hosea and my father will be informed, and that ends well for neither of you.”

           MacKenzie placed her hands on her hips – a power pose. She was in charge here. At least in this situation. No one else. Not her dad, not the foreman, and certainly not her sister. She called the shots. She wanted to get that message across loud and clear to these.

Ryan cursed. “Whatever, have a good ride, Mr. Pony Express.” And he stalked off into the house for God knows what.

           Andy looked at MacKenzie. In all the years he had worked here, he felt this was the first time he had really seen her. She looked similar to her sister in that they were both around the same height and blonde with light eyes. MacKenzie’s were a striking blue where Sophia’s were a deep green. They shared the same nose and same look on their faces when they were angry.

           But as Andy studied her closer, he realized the two could not be more different. Sophia was a cute girl-next-door type. Sweet and funny, she always looked like she belonged here. MacKenzie, on the other hand, did not. Even around the ranch, she wore dress clothes. Dresses, blazers, boots that you’d sooner see at a gala than in a pasture. She carried herself differently, too. At first, it seemed like she was more confident than her sister, but at closer look, she just expressed that confidence in her body language.

           Sophia was effortless, MacKenzie was all strategy. Andy reckoned both had their good and bad points. He just hoped she wasn’t expecting a thank you for coming to his aid. She didn’t seem to be. She just nodded at him, instructed him again to get that envelope to the neighbors, and then walked off into the house, as well.

           Andy could only ponder where that left him as he made his way toward the barn. He almost didn’t want to take his horse now after Ryan’s little

pony express

quip, but it was a faster route than the roads from this ranch to the next, so he saddled up anyway and headed off

#writing #my writing #original fiction #not rdr #yeehawgust #yeehawgust day 3 #day 3 #western #yeehawgust 2020

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

No Hope, No Future: Let the Adventures Begin!

This writing is dedicated to my dear friend Miles “Art Phoenix” and also to the memory of:

15-year-old Italian individualist anarchist Anteo Zamboni, who lost his life attempting to shoot and kill Benito Mussolini in Bologna on 31 October1926

& Japanese anarchist and nihilist Fumiko Kaneko, convicted of plotting to assassinate members of the Japanese Imperial family and imprisoned until she took her own life.

The sun, moon and the stars do not wait; they bomb the sky with their presence. A tsunami does not hesitate; it announces a death rattle of destruction before dissipating. So why should I wait? And who am I waiting for? And who are they waiting for? The Future is a god obeyed at the expense of one’s immediate desires in order to secure distant membership in a nonexistent utopia.

The Future is a hologram projection of dreams and promises that get rejected by the present. For politicians and other authoritarians seeking long-term domination, The Future is often socially utilized to exploit one's fear of living in the moment. The Future domesticates wild desire, limiting its capacity to explore spontaneous, unpredictable experiences.

Today is here, right now like a blank canvas inviting my imaginative, destructive creativity. Do I dare to dream bigger than the prison world of material wealth, fashion trends and workerism? Should I indulge in savage hedonism against the monolith of collectivized misery? Yes! Against the gospel of The Future, my anarchy is a riotous celebration of now!

The Future is antithetical to any feral insurgency that refuses politicized stagnation. When I say “politicized stagnation”, I am referring to the politics of “waiting for when the time is ripe”. When I say “feral insurgency”, I am referring to the prioritizing of immediate attack rooted in an individualist, unrestrained desire for freedom. The Left enjoys long-winded academic debates and discussions, attempting to redefine revolution within the limited scope of civilized society. Acting as a new constitution for a future society, there is everexpanding politically correct terminology to learn and memorize, along with the everchanging methods of “educating” “the people”. And then there’s the ingroup and outgroup competition, the oppression olympics and lowestcommon denominator identity politics. I consider all of this Politicized Stagnation. More time and energy is placed on the ideological construction of a perfect future utopia than attacking the existing prison society now.

These type of (exhausting) discussions understimulate my desire for wild experimentation and illegalist adventure. When I speak of “wildness” I am referring to the unique complexities of individual experiences and emotion, which defy the politicized confinement of analytical measurement. When I speak of “illegalist adventure” I am referring to the full-flowering of individual growth and selfliberation beyond the confines of law and order.

My wildness is defined by an individualism borne of the intercourse of anarchy and nihilism; it can not be captured and confined to socially constructed identities nor the poverty of leftist ideology. The illegality of my feral revolt against industrial civilization makes me an accomplice of all wild beings who viciously reject social domestication. My wildness is an exploration into the adventurous unknown life experiences of criminal, antiworkerist anarchy. My experiences are unique,

everchanging and my own, blowing to pieces the assumption that they can be defined by identitybased affiliations with any particular group membership. I find identity politics laughable, rejecting its glorified victimhood and representation. Rather than participating in the pretentious role of identity policing, I take destructive aim at the mental prisons of my own class, race and gender assignment.

I also mock the authority of psychiatry with an assertion of negativity toward behavorial standardization. In the eyes of a neurotypical society, I am fucking crazy but in the eyes of lunatics I am alive and well! The insane/sane binary is a socioeconomic trap that criminalizes antisocial behavior and capitalizes on emotional misery. With the experience of having been imprisoned at a psychiatric facility and rejecting their medications, I remain insubordinate: there is no cure for my depression that civilized society induces. There is no prescriptive remedy for my unruly incompatibility with collectivized subservience. I refuse to tranquilize my hatred for authority and this civilized society which maintains it.

Some would even encourage me to indulge in the intoxication culture that takes the sharp, sober edge off of reality. But it is sobriety that I weaponize against the docile, habitual comforts of toxic escapism. There is nothing this colonial establishment wants more than to subjugate my savagery with addiction or habitual inebriation. My sobriety is a feral sworn enemy of industrial civilization.

No Hope, No Future: Let the Adventures Begin!

I don’t want to create new theories or more analysis to filter the world through; I want to destroy the ideological chains that prohibit me from experiencing it directly. I don’t want to create a blue print for another world; I want to experience utopia, here and now!

What differentiates leftism from my nihilist anarchy is the desire to embrace the present as the best time for attack, waging an individualist war on all governance and social control. While adherents of leftism spend years in college classrooms attempting to make leftism palatable to “the masses”, some nihilist individuals send smoke signals of sabotage in solidarity with others who embrace the night like a balaclava. With destruction, these individuals constellate an informal network of feral revolt across the globe, leaving behind the chains of fear and internalized victimhood.

Even in the era of Trump presidency “the masses” have yet to take up arms and overthrow the establishment. While anarcholeftist organizers advertise their groups in competitive popularity contests, the violence of fascism, poverty and police orchestrated executions roll on. Individualized, spontaneous ruptures to the civilized order define a warfare that almost always undermines state infiltration and management. In the transformation of civil anarchism to feral insurgency, anarchy becomes an anti-political life of illegalism accessible to any individual with the courage to get wild and fuck shit up.

The authoritarian “revolutionaries” who carry communist bibles filled with “better futures” are a predatory bunch, discouraging individualist selfdetermination and targeting those most vulnerable to groupthink buzzwords like “hope” and “community”. One is led to a believe in and choose a side within a binaryist worldview: find a future of happiness through the riches of capitalism or find a future of happiness in the communalism of communism.

For me The Future of both is as much of an apparition as the authoritarian power both require to create it; I refuse to endure years of wageslavery in hope of a future financial security under capitalism. Equally, I refuse to surrender my present days building communes in hope of a future communist utopia.

My anarchy can not be defined by either capitalism nor communism: it is the abomination of both. My activities require no future utopia for motivation only a personal obsession with a present life ungoverned by submission. My anger and contempt for this technoindustrial nightmare motivates my actions. “The Commune” requires my individualism in exchange for membership, and like a machine requires my free time and energy for its maintenance.

I mock those Tiqqunists, the Invisible Committee and their disciples for attempting to market insurrection to “the masses”. Their “manual of terrorism” is merely a biblical text that presents itself as a “truth” that people are “forced to choose” if they desire something other than the world we have today. This oversimplification intentionally erases those who channel the power of their individualism towards emancipatory destruction rather than surrendering themselves to "recreate the conditions of another community."

The way I see it, no one other than my self is more qualified to determine and acquire my freedom. I am responsible for my own life, freedom and the necessary attack in obtaining both. Without prioritizing this personal responsibility, I would fall into a dependency which would enable an authoritarian, social hierarchy that normalizes my own disempowerment.

For many, individualist potential is difficult to explore in the presence of an overwhelming number of mechanistic social roles and identities that demand its surrendering. So is it really surprising that many people have difficulty imagining themselves as independent, selfsufficently armed survivalists? Much of what is propagated as “anarchism” in the US comes from a collectivist perspective that boasts more about “community”, “the movement” or “the commune” rather than individualist power. Is it really surprising that so many self-identifying anarchists struggle with not feeling motivated enough to take action unless they are affiliated with a group, organization, or movement?

The anarchist nihilist critique of organization can be summarized as a tension between the individual and the collective. Sure, I will be the first one to say that shit like the J20 black bloc that wrecked havoc in the streets was a hell of a fun time! I understand there is a power, riotous excitement and even sometimes safety in numbers. I also recognize that mutual aid and support do wonders for helping one another in more ways than I can list. But what about that same power, riotous excitement, and safety in individualized, lone wolf attacks?

Is there no power to be found in knowing everyday can be an opportunity for direct action without needing a police killing or some moral outrage for motivation? Is there no excitement to be found within the personal experimentation of clandestine activities, the rush of adrenaline while fleeing the scene of a crime, or the safety in a selfplanned and secured action taking place when and where police least expect it? Why wait for the next demonstration, police shooting, presidential election or convergence? And while the aid of others can potentially enhance one’s criminal experience, there is much to learn about one’s personal experience with carrying out their own individualized attack. Everything from planning, to panic control and task completion are experienced differently when not split up amongst others.

With individualist attack, the actor is not alienated from the action. Everything is evaluated directly, personally, and in the moment. The attack then becomes a direct expression of the individual. Without the ideological guidance of a future utopia or greater power, nor the motivation of a collectivized identity, the individual becomes simultaneously the catalyst and creator of their anarchy. The selfdefeating worldview one holds onto is only as strong as their grip on it. The enslavement of one’s existence is only as powerful as their individualized subordination.

One thing that comes to mind when speaking of creating anarchy is uniqueness. Ones relationship to their action is always unique from another. From a strategic point of view, there is uniqueness in the experience of lonewolf attacks. Even “phantom cell” structured attacks carried out by small groups of trusting individuals offer a unique perspective on direct action. Compared to mass demonstration property destruction, (which unfortunately often ends with police kettling and mass arrests) it doesn’t take long to research how successful ALF and ELF attacks are while utilizing the model of spontaneous and unpredictable attack. But the ALF and ELF are the more wellknown success stories. This doesn’t include all the successful attacks by lonewolf individuals. These individualized attacks have the benefit of being carried out in the most random, unpredictable manner, while displaying the courage and power one determined individual can possess. Formally organized movements that require mass mobilization and time for “education” is futile; along with formally organized militias, both play into the trap of predictability and infiltration.

Socially speaking, personal uniqueness is more often feared than accepted. If it can’t be controlled, massified, or out-right eliminated it is a threat to the continuity of an established social identity. The breaking down of control and stability often induces panic in authority. An individualism that rejects the logic of submission becomes boundless in the exploration of personal potential. This ungovernable potential threatens the collectivized security of social control and predictability. Similar to the strategy of spontaneous attack, desire armed with chaos is like the wildness that civilization tries to domesticate; determined and resilient.

When I hear people say “we have a plan for a better world” in the futuristic sense, I wonder if they are considering the very real possibility that they will never see that world. And unless they are speaking for others the way politicians do, I am curious to know who is going to experience this better world. Is this “plan for a better world” a predetermined model for a future of people that the architects have no relational connection to? I have no desire to propose and enforce a preconstructed model of living upon people from afar. As I expect for myself here and now, anyone who exists beyond my own life is entitled to the same individual agency.

For me, this shit world in which I currently exist is the only world I am going to see. I have no delusions of getting old and touring colleges to give speeches on anarchy. Nor riding trains at 80 years old, or wasting away in a retirement home glued to a television or piecing together puzzles. I will most likely die young, and I don’t see a “better world” coming. Nor a mass uprising that wouldn’t impose another authoritarian regime in place of the current one. I guess some would say this is the “hopelessness” often associated with nihilism. For me, this is a realistic assessment of the world I currently live in.

But this reality, however dismal, motivates my desire to make my life, through fierce revolt, as joyful and fulfilling as possible! My hopelessness does not paralyze me with fear or depression; I celebrate it with hysterical laughter and ecstasy in spite of civilization’s death march. I arm my desires with the urgency to live... against the social order of monotony and peaceful enslavement, to sleep beneath the stars, to feel sunshine and a breeze with every hair on my body, to listen to the latenight conversations of the insects, to become wild...

Scattered everywhere around me are the social manifestations of domestication and control, the politics of fear that reinforce them and the individual architects who construct them. Therefore, opportunities for creative destruction (or destructive creativity) surround me! So why wait?

My Individualism, nihilistic and anarchistic, is the embodiment of both perpetual destruction and creativity. The life I want to live is the one I create here and now. Through the personal destruction of all that governs me, my freedom is experienced creativity. My life is my utopia, located here and now, defining my present as the playful insubordination that renders The Future useless.

******

To black out in becoming the light of hopelessness,

to accelerate emancipation from the shackles of stagnation,

to create an exhilarating life of hedonistic rebellion against the social conformity of self-destruction,

wild insurgency is an individualist celebration,

a reclaiming of a life society says I can’t have,

every day against stifling obedience to The Future.

- Flower Bomb 2019

#anarcho nihilism #anti civ #green anarchy #post left #anarchism #anti left anarchy #communism

[arrantsnowdrop]

A Dangerous Game - Chapter 1 (Theseus Scamander x OC series)

Prologue

Summary: When Victoire McKinnon, one of the wizarding world's most proficient curse-breakers, is asked to assist and protect the Ministry of Magic's Auror Department in their crusade against Grindelwald, she finds herself stuck working with the extremely annoying, exceptionally good looking Theseus Scamander.

Warnings: swearing, kinda mature themes (Grindelwald kills people so mentions of death), 2466 words

..........

It was a rainy morning in London. Victoire had found a small cafe nestled between a bookstore and an antique shop, and there she sat, watching the heavy downpour out of the large front window. The pastry in front of her lay mostly untouched, but the two white mugs that had been filled with coffee were empty. She needed to be alert, despite how early it was and how little sleep he had gotten.

Her meeting with Torquil Travers was at eight, and the old clock on the wall read seven thirty. She had been up ever since Griphook had summoned her to his office at five in the morning (on her first day of vacation, no less), and her anxiety had been steadily rising since.

She hated that she was nervous. This was far from her first visit to the Ministry of Magic; her father had been the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and she had visited him at work every Saturday with her mom and brothers until she had started school at Hogwarts. Her oldest brother, Emrys, now worked there as well, fulfilling some position in the Department of Mysteries that he had been told not to disclose.

In more recent years, Victoire found herself attending a multitude Ministry events, including galas to raise funds for advanced equipment and research, and countless meetings to seek approval for more risqué assignments. Though Gringotts and the Ministry worked separately, having their support in more controversial endeavors guaranteed less backlash from the public.

However, the situation at hand was odd to say the least. 

Travers, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had requested an experienced curse-breaker from Gringotts to aid the Aurors in their crusade against Grindelwald. Gringotts curse-breakers hardly ever worked in coalition with any Ministry workers, especially not the Aurors (there was a bit of an unspoken rivalry between the two parties). Victoire knew Travers usually had too much pride to ask for help outside his department, much less a completely different organization, so she figured something pretty bad must have happened for him to seek assistance.

That’s what made her nervous, really; she didn’t know how bad the situation was, or who she was working with. The lack of information was putting her on edge. She did know that about a week ago, a few aurors had gone missing after they had miscalculated how dangerous the situation was, but that alone was not enough to justify Travers’ request. There had to be more.

Still, Griphook had assured her the assignment wouldn’t last more than two or three weeks, and that the vacation she was supposed to be on would be extended for another week afterwards.

A low rumble of thunder snapped her out of her thoughts, and she glanced at the clock again. Seven forty five, not too early to head over to the Ministry.

She pushed herself out of her chair and brushed a few stray crumbs off of her skirt, leaving a tip on the table and stuffing the croissant in her pocket for later.

“Thank you for the breakfast!” she called to the barista, waving goodbye as she walked out of the front door and into the rain.

She groaned, quickly realizing that the coat she had grabbed this morning was not one of her waterproofed wardrobe pieces, and that there were far too many people walking around her to even think of casting a spell without someone noticing. She figured she would deal with her wet clothes once in the Ministry, and quickly took off down the sidewalk.

The rain only seemed to pick up as she got closer and closer to the phone booth at the end of the street. She squeaked at a rather loud clap of thunder and practically jumped into the booth, slamming the door behind her to shut out the rain and dialing 6-2-4-4-2 rather hastily.

“Good morning! Is it still raining up there?” the welcome witch asked warmly.

“Yes, cats and dogs,” Victoire replied, whipping out her wand and quickly drying herself off.

“That can’t be fun. Please state your name and reason for visiting us today.”

“My name is Victoire McKinnon, I have a meeting with Torquil Travers at eight.”

“The Victoire McKinnon? Curse-breaker Victoire McKinnon?” the witch asked earnestly.

“That’s the one,” she said uncomfortably.

“It’s an honor to meet you miss, I keep up with all your work in the Daily Prophet!”

“Thank you so much! I’d really love to talk about it all but I do have somewhere I need to be,” Victoire said.

“Oh yes, sorry! Sending you down right away miss!” came the eager response as the floor began to descend into the ground.

“Thank you,” Victoire replied, rubbing her hands together nervously.

The one downside of being one of the most well-known curse-breakers of the century was the fact that she could go nowhere in the wizarding world without someone noticing her and getting all flabbergasted. Of course she adored the people who read all of her research, but when they acted like she was some famous witch, she couldn’t help but feel quite awkward.

The lift slowed down and then stopped, and the doors in front of her opened with a soft “ping.”

She stepped out onto the wooden floors of the atrium, weaving through a group of tourists before catching sight of Travers standing next to the statue of some old wizard.

“Victoire!” he called, waving her over with a grin on his face.

Most people thought Torquil Travers was intimidating at best, and terribly harsh and dictating at worst, but he had been close friends with Victoire’s father and was almost like an uncle to her.

“Hi Mister Travers,” she replied, smiling as he wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I’m very glad you came,” he stated.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?” she sassed, stepping back and crossing her arms across her chest.

“Oh come on now, you can’t be that upset to see me?” Travers teased, beginning to walk across the floor towards the lifts on the other side. Victoire rolled her eyes.

“I wish the circumstances of this visit were a bit different, that’s all.”

Torquil sighed and nodded seriously.

“Me too, Victoire. You know I wouldn’t have asked for you to help if the situation wasn’t desperate.”

“I know, Mister Travers,” Victoire assured, following him into a lift while he pressed the level two button.

“Did you change the ceiling? The blue looks different,” she said, her eyes drifting to the top of the atrium.

“I didn’t do anything, for all I know the ceiling changes color,” Travers replied, laughing as the lift began to move.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was, in Victoire’s opinion, perhaps the most dismal looking floor of the whole Ministry of Magic. She followed behind Travers through a sad looking hallway with worn blue carpets and walls that were practically begging to be redone.

“Have you ever considered adding a little color around here?” she asked as they walked past a pair of double doors leading into the Auror Headquarters.

Travers shot her a glare as he walked into a room across the hall.

“Close the door behind you,” he called, picking a set of papers off of his desk and straightening them out while he sat down.

Victoire obliged, shutting the heavy set door and taking a seat on the other side of his desk.

“I knew they were going to send you,” he started. “You’re one of the best witches of the century and your skills in both curse-breaking and defensive wizardry are unparalleled.”

“Well, uh, thank you sir-”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the incident we had last week?” he inquired. Victoire nodded.

“Griphook told me, have you found the three aurors who went missing?”

Travers shook his head, handing her the stack of papers he had been sorting.

“This is a report on that and three other situations of similar consequence. All four have taken place within the last two months, and collectively have resulted in 14 aurors either dying or going missing.”

Victoire bit her lip, skimming through the summaries of each report.

“This is a problem,” she said finally, looking up at Travers. He nodded.

“I’m quite aware. That’s why I need you to prevent this sort of thing from

happening. I can’t fight Grindelwald if all my Aurors are gone,” he said.

“Do you have any sort of exact job description I could see? I just want to know what my specific role is in all of this,” she said, gesturing towards the papers in her hand.

Travers nodded, pulling yet another paper off of his desk and handing it to her.

“I’m going to pair you up with one of my head aurors,” he said. “You’re going to accompany him to all of his cases related to the crimes of Grindelwald and his followers, and make sure they’re not rushing into any traps.”

Victoire nodded, “I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Travers said, “I have a feeling that European houses with relatively newer curses are easier to detect than what’s in your typical field of work.” Victoire chuckled, and Travers gestured back to the packet of papers in her hand.

“And in your spare time, I wouldn’t mind if you could figure out what’s happened to the aurors who have gone missing. It’s getting hard to explain to their families that I have absolutely no idea. Even some sort of closure would be better than what they have now,” he said somberly.

“I won’t let you down, sir,” Victoire said.

“I know you won’t, Victoire,” he said, standing up. “You start tomorrow, but while you’re here I want to introduce you to the fellow you’ll be working with.”

Victoire followed Travers out of his office and back into the main hall, then further down and away from the lift and the Auror Headquarters.

“This is where all the Head Auror offices are,” Travers clarified, as if he could sense her confusion.

“Ah, so I’m working with a Head Auror?”

“Yes, one of the best,” Travers said, stopping outside one of the many wooden doors and knocking it twice with the back of his hand before entering.

“Theseus, do you have a minute?” Travers asked. Victoire peered into the tidy looking office. It was smaller than Travers’, with shelves against nearly every wall, filled to the top with books and file folders.

“Of course, sir,” came the voice of the young man sitting behind the desk. She watched as he stood up quickly, gaze flicking over his neat suit and tall figure and tousled brown hair. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Victoire, this is Theseus Scamander, Head Auror and expert Dark Wizard Catcher,” Travers said, gesturing to the young man.

Victoire sucked in a breath. She did know who Theseus was.

“Theseus, this is Victoire McKinnon, the Gringotts curse-breaker behind their extensive research in Japan and Africa.”

This was the guy who called curse-breakers “glorified history nerds on a scavenger hunt without a purpose” during an interview with the Daily Prophet once.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss McKinnon,” Theseus said smoothly, sticking his hand out for her to shake with a smile plastered on his face.

The comment had stung a little.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” she said coldly, keeping her arms at her side.

“Theseus, you and Victoire are going to be temporary partners on your Grindelwald cases, her purpose being to keep you and your team safe from any curses or traps,” Travers said, completely oblivious to the emerging tension in the room.

“With all due respect sir, I don’t think we need protecting,” Theseus said, turning to Travers with a look of distaste.

Victoire scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Theseus, too many Aurors have gone missing for us to keep doing things the same way we have been,” Travers said sternly.

“But sir-”

“I am not going to risk any more of my staff because you can’t bring yourself to admit you could use help. If I can do it, there’s no reason why you can’t,” the older man finished, clapping his hands together as if to conclude his thought.

Victoire smirked, finding it hard to not laugh when Theseus glared at her.

“Well, I’ll leave you two so you can get acquainted. Victoire will be joining you in the field tomorrow, and I expect you will get along just fine,” Travers said, looking at Victoire expectantly.

“Oh yes, sir, I’ll be on my best behavior,” she said with a curt nod of her head. Travers rolled his eyes.

“Tell your father I say hi, alright?” he asked, bidding farewell once more before walking out of Theseus’s office and closing the door behind him.

The room fell silent, save for the ticking of a clock somewhere on Theseus’ desk.

It was a rather dark looking office. There was definitely light coming from somewhere, but it seemed faint, and there were no windows. It wasn’t like Griphook’s office, which was dark but very aesthetically pleasing; it was simply dark and boring.

“Well, this should be an interesting couple of weeks,” Theseus mumbled, breaking the silence.

Victoire turned on her heel sharply and glared at him.

“Are you always this negative?” she asked crossly. Theseus looked at her in disbelief.

“Are you always such a know-it-all?” he retorted, grabbing a piece of blank parchment from a drawer and setting it on top of his desk.

“Listen, I’m just as annoyed about this arrangement as you are, but you could at least pretend you weren’t completely disgusted by the prospect of working with me,” she said dryly.

“Oh no, am I hurting your feelings, sweetheart?” Theseus mocked, sitting down on his desk and pouting at you. She rolled your eyes.

“You wish,” she grumbled, trying to ignore the fact that he was still taller than she was sitting down.

“Are you even any good at your job?” Theseus asked offhandedly. “I don’t want to die because you don't know what you’re doing.”

Victoire gaped at him, struggling to form a response.

“Cat got your tongue, love?” Theseus asked chuckling.

“Fuck off,” she spat, turning around and walking towards the door.

“I’m hurt, Miss McKinnon, I really am,” Theseus said sarcastically, sitting down behind his desk and pulling his quill out of the ink pot.

“Are you going to be this rude tomorrow, Mister Scamander?” Victoire asked dryly as she opened the door.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Theseus shrugged, diverting his attention to the paper in front of him.

Victoire groaned and slammed the door behind her, already looking forward to the end of this stupid coalition.

..........

[A/N: I'M BACK Y'ALL!!! This literally took like months to write bc of school and then summer was distracting, but I'm back and ready for consistent posts and more fics and all the fun stuff. Shoutout to @littleyellowladybugg for being a goddess and proofreading this for me (follow her plz she's amazing). If you like this, drop a like or comment or reblog! I love feedback! Also I'm thinking abt making a tag list for this so if you're interested message me or something :) thanks loves, hope you like/liked this!]

#fantastic beast and where to find them #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander x oc #theseus x reader #theseus x oc #theseus imagine #fantastic beasts

[classyklancey]

Blue Roses |Bad Boy! Keith x Flower Shop Worker! Lance|

Pairing: Lance McClain x Keith Kogane Genre: Fluff, slight smut  Warnings: just some making out and slight dirty talk  Summary: Lance works at a flower shop in which his grandma is the owner of. He’s there every day without a single complaint, loving to be around the flowers and helping people show the ones they love them with a simple gesture such as flowers. He wished someone would show their affection towards him with flowers but it seemed that day would never come. One day though, a mysterious stranger shows up in his shop looking beyond handsome. Turns out the stranger liked him and they had a bonding moment. Now, the story of their love growing and flourishing must be told. Part: 5/?

okay, so let me let you in on a little secret 

Keith and Lance?

TOTAL WRECKS 

they’re so very, very nervous and excited 

they couldn’t eat breakfast or lunch from how excited they were 

Lance wouldn’t shut up in the gc with Pidge and Hunk to Pidge’s dismay

Keith kept texting Shiro and Adam questions about dating and going on dates; luckily for him, both of them thought it was so cute how nervous he is 

eventually, the time came 

Keith had to go pick lance up 

he texted Lance for his address and took a deep breath when Lance sent it 

Keith looked over the route there and realized he didn’t live that far away, ten mins away at most 

he walked out of his apartment and got his motorcycle from the parking garage

he then zoomed off to Lance's place

it was probably the fastest he’d ever driven 

when he got there, he quickly pulled his phone out to let Lance know he was there

when Lance came out, the air left both of their lungs 

Keith had done it

he was wearing his leather jacket, no band-aids covering his wounds, AND his hair was pulled back into a small bun

if Lance could, he would’ve combusted right there just like he said he would 

Lance's face was covered in a blush 

okay, but Keith was having the same issue 

Lance was looking pretty gosh darn good himself 

he wore a blue button-up that made his eyes pop from where Keith was parked several feet away

the blush made his tan skin look so smooth, only making him even more handsome

by the time Lance reached Keith, the boys finally remembered how to breathe

Keith could now see that Lance wasn’t wearing any makeup to hide the freckles dusting his cheeks

Keith wanted to kiss every. single. one.

“Hi,” Lance squeaked nervously 

“Hey,” Keith breathed out 

it was then that Lance noticed that Keith had his piercings in 

Jesus Christ

Keith really was trying to kill him 

he had many piercings on the ear that was facing Lance, a lip piercing, an eyebrow piercing and holy christ what if he had a tongue piercing???

Lance inhaled shakily as he shook his head

“Christ, Kogane. You really pulled through,” Lance would say to break the silence that followed after their in awe shy greeting 

Keith chuckles in that deep way of his as he shrugs, offering Lance his helmet 

“I’m here to please, babe,” Keith replies in a flirty tone, remembering their texts from this morning

Lance’s blush gets worse, much to Keith’s pleasure, as he lightly hits Keith’s buff arm 

Keith only chuckles and motions for Lance to get on 

“Hop on, lover boy” 

Lance whines in his head at how cute Keith is, climbing on behind him 

Lance starts to question where his helmet is and when Keith tells him that he only has one helmet, Lance immediately goes to give it back to him but of course, Keith tells him that Lance’s safety comes first

before Lance can argue with him, Keith is telling him to hold on tight and taking off 

Lance wraps his arms tight around Keith’s waist, letting out a girly scream

Keith laughs and slows down a bit to not give Lance a heart attack

Lance’s grip loosens but was still tighter than it needed to be

His face was buried in Keith’s back by his shoulder, giving him a freebie to take in Keith’s scent

besides the obvious answer of leather, he smelt like a car garage. you know, motor oil, grease, gasoline. it must be his jacket that he wears to work 

that smell was faint though 

what Lance really smelt was his cologne 

it smelt like Axe body spray but not like an annoying amount that makes you gag

Lance was so focused on Keith that he hadn’t realized that they stopped

“As much as I’d love to have your arms stay wrapped around me, we have a reservation and I’d rather not lose it”

Lance snaps out of his thoughts at the sound of Keith’s voice, quickly getting off

he almost falls off but he manages to save himself 

and that blush was back again

“Sorry,” he says quickly while looking at the ground

Keith finishes parking his bike before getting off and smiling at Lance

“Don’t be”

Keith starts walking towards the door and Lance quickly follows after him

Keith laughs a bit as he stops, turning to look at Lance

Lance blush goes scarlet as he looks at Keith with panicked eyes

“What? What’s wrong?” Lance spews out 

Keith chuckles and steps closer to Lance, making his heart beat wildly 

“You might not want to wear this inside,” Keith says softly before knocking his fist against Lance’s head where the helmet was 

Lance’s ears go red out of embarrassment, glad the helmet was hiding them 

Why was Lance acting so flustered? He was supposed to be doing that to Keith!

Keith chuckles and takes the helmet off for him, kissing his forehead once it was off

Lance’s eyes widen, knowing he was as red as a tomato 

Keith comes back over to him when he’s done, holding in his coos at how cute Lance looks

Lance’s hair was an absolute mess now and Keith knew if he figured it out, he’d complain about it 

Keith hums when he reaches him, reaching up to fix his helmet hair 

Lance just stares at his face, eyes studying how handsome he is

Keith finally looks into Lance’s eyes when he finishes with his hair, freezing at Lance’s gaze

they were so close

like 

close 

before either of them could decide what to do about their closeness, a car’s horn goes off and scares them

they move away from each other before shuffling inside

they take their seats and start to chat about random things

they were both relieved that it wasn’t awkward 

when they order their food, Lance orders a lot

when the waiter leaves and Keith jokingly comments on it, Lance’s reply was that he warned Keith that he’s a pig

Keith then tells him that he’s the best looking pig he’s ever seen then 

they both laugh and then start to talk again 

after eating their food, they decide that they would go to the park 

they go outside and they feel that the air was a bit chillier now that the sun has gone down 

Lance shivers but doesn’t say anything 

Keith hums as he takes his jacket off and throws it over onto Lance’s head

“Here,” he says simply 

Lance wouldn’t show it but he was ecstatic 

He quickly slips it on and lets out a happy hum, it being warm and smelling like Keith 

“How cliché,” Lance jokes

“Want to walk to the park?” Keith asks in response, not embarrassed one bit about being ‘cliché’

Lance nods his head and flashes his signature smile, starting to walk to the park 

Keith walks alongside him for a bit, having an internal debate 

does he hold his hand? wrap his arm around him? is it too soon for this stuff?

but they like sucked faces just like yesterday so ??????

unbeknownst to Keith, Lance was having the same internal war

he gave him his jacket so it wouldn’t be weird to hold his hand, right?

they both decided to grow a pair at the same time and move their hands to grab the other’s

they ended up wacking their hands together and jumping at the sudden, abrupt contact 

they chuckle and look at each other, smiling as they grab each other’s hand properly this time 

Keith gives Lance’s hand a squeeze and Lance swings their hands a bit 

both of their faces are red once more

when they reach the park, Lance instantly heads for the swings 

he sits down and instead of Keith sitting next to him like Lance thought he would, he goes behind Lance and starts to gently push him 

Lance smiles like a goon as he swings his legs

eventually, they decide to stop

Lance stops swinging and Keith sits beside him on the other swing 

they hold hands again and stare up into the sky to stargaze

they stay at the park for hours, moving from the swings, to the slide, to the monkey bars, and even to the grass

they talked about everything imaginable, everything from something simple like their favorite colors all the way to if aliens exist

that last one ended up being very lengthy

when Lance let out a yawn, Keith decided he should get him home

he leads him back to his motorcycle and when Lance offers to give him his jacket back, Keith declines 

“You’ll get cold,” Keith explains 

Lance pouts and responds with, “But you’re sitting in front of me. You’ll get cold”

it apparently wasn’t up for discussion, just like the helmet situation

Keith just got onto his motorcycle without another word but with a reassuring smile

Lance gets on eventually and Keith takes him home 

Lance gets off the motorcycle once they reach his house, turning to stare at Keith

he bites his lip and looks away when Keith just stares at him 

he wanted to kiss Keith but wasn’t sure if it was okay 

“So, uh...goodnight,” Keith says awkwardly, having the same question as Lance

Lance tries to hide his disappointment with a smile and nodding his head 

“Right. Goodnight. Thanks for tonight. Text me when you get home so I know you didn’t die in a fiery crash,” he says cheerfully as he takes off the helmet and slides it onto Keith’s head 

Keith thanks Lance and tells him he will be careful 

Lance starts to walk towards his place when Keith’s voice stops him 

“Lance, you forgot something”

Lance’s brows furrow as he turns back around, walking back over towards him 

“I did? What?” 

before he could contemplate further on what he could’ve forgotten, Keith’s lips were gently meeting his 

Lance was surprised by this kiss just like the first time 

he also noticed that this kiss was different than the first one 

the first one was hot, passionate 

this one was soft and slow 

Lance hums and wraps his arms around Keith while the other place’s his hands on Lance’s waist

Lance couldn’t help but smile a bit into the kiss 

they pull away after a couple seconds, their faces still very close together 

they stare into each other’s eyes, not wanting to let go of the other 

“You know, that kiss was very good, don’t get me wrong, but I think I like the first one we shared better,” Lance says somewhat playfully 

Keith smirks before slamming his lips back against Lance’s 

now this was what Lance liked

he liked feeling Keith’s tongue fighting against his, kissing so hard that their teeth clash occasionally, and-

wait a second 

Keith does have a tongue piercing  

before Lance could stop himself, he was moaning 

Lance instantly regretted it when Keith pulls away 

Lance blushes darker than he has all night, his heart absolutely dropping 

“I am so sorry! I-It just slipped out! I felt your piercing and I-”

Lance is cut off by Keith chuckling 

okay, so now Lance was absolutely mortified 

this is it 

he’s going to die right here

he wasn’t even able to think of another way he would’ve liked to go out before he felt Keith cradling his face 

“Lance, baby, calm down,” Keith says and oh god, his voice was deeper now 

JeSUs CHrIsT

God really must have it out for Lance

“Hey, I said calm down. Why do you look like your panicking more?” Keith says playfully with a deep chuckle 

God, even his chuckle was sexy 

Lance clears his throat and looks away, still scared out of his wits that he just ruined everything 

Keith hums as he turns Lance to look at him again 

“Ah, I see. You think I didn’t like your moan?” Keith asks as if he’s just now piecing it together 

Lance bites his lip hard and nods his head despite the fact he wanted to deny it 

Keith shakes his head and uses his thumb to take Lance’s lip from his teeth 

“Don’t bite your lip. That’s my job. Now, use your words, baby”

Lance was sure he just jizzed his pants 

is this real? this was too good to be true. is he being pranked? Lance forced himself to not look around for cameras 

“Y-Yes...” Lance stutters out quietly 

Keiths hums and looks at him like he’s proud of him 

is he proud of him?

“You got it all wrong, baby. I pulled away for a completely different reason”

Lance thought he was going to stop there and not tell him more when Keith’s head is suddenly beside his 

“I stopped because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from going further. I mean, c’mon, baby. How can you moan like that and not expect me to-” 

Keith cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, letting it go against Lance’s ear and making Lance shiver

“Within do time,” he whispers into Lance’s ear 

he pecks right below his ear and pulls away to look at Lance

so uh 

Lance.exe has stopped working 

Lance stands there as still as a statue 

well, other than his shaking from how turned on hard his heart was beating and rushing adrenaline through his veins 

Lance stares at Keith like a fish out of water, silently gaping at him 

Keith smirks at him and chuckles lowly, using his fingers to close Lance’s mouth he then gives him a short, sweet kiss 

“I’ll text you when I get home, yeah?” Keith says to try and get some sort of response from Lance

Keith only chuckles when Lance blushes even more, if possible, his brain finally starting to function again 

he apparently still couldn’t talk though 

Keith only chuckles before kissing Lance one more time and leaving 

Lance stands there for a long time before finally going inside 

as he was walking to his room, he realizes he still has Keith’s jacket

Lance squeals quietly like a happy girl, spinning around 

he runs to his room and launches himself onto his bed, squeezing his pillow and grinning like a fool 

Keith was just as happy as Lance

he smiled the whole way home 

even when he got home, he was still smiling like a fool

jeez, these boys were already smitten

MASTERLIST prev | next 

#klance #klance headcanons #voltron headcanons #vld #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld headcanons #klance scenario #klance fluff #klance smut #voltron fluff #voltron smut #vld fluff #vld smut #voltron scenario #klance drabble #voltron drabble #vld drabble #voltron keith #voltron lance #keith x lance #keith x lance voltron #voltron keith x lance #voltron klance #klance imagine #voltron imagine #klance series #voltron series #klance au #voltron au

[darkspellmaster]

Young Justice Theory: So I want to talk about Halo...

I’ve seen a lot of discussion about Halo the character in Young Justice. And, while I’m loathed to throw myself into this discourse, I feel like a lot of misinformation is being bandied about in regard to the character.

Now let me say this much, I am not coming at this from the standpoint of the character being a Muslim girl. Rather I’m coming at this from the standpoint of what and who the character is and why I think a lot of this commentary is…a bit of an issue when it comes to Halo and her role in the series.

So let’s start at the beginning. Who is Halo...?

The original Halo is a girl by the name of Violet Harper who was a troubled teen. She and her then boyfriend stole a drug formula from Tobais Whale (if you watch Black Lighting you will know about this kingpin) and ran off to Markovia where she was killed by an Assassin sent out by Whale. Her body was later found by the the Aurakle, who took it over and revived her. Batman discovered her, and she had no idea who she was. Due to her using Light powers he gave her the code name Halo, so he could at least call her something, and the two helped form the Outsiders to deal with the war in Markovia.

During her time with the Outsiders, Halo takes the name Gabrielle Doe and lives in a penthouse with Katana, becoming Katana’s Legal ward. She attended high school and started to date, making Brion a bit jealous, and the two realized when they spoiled one another’s dates that they loved one another. Eventually Batman found out Halo’s past and she eventually went to live with Violet’s parents, discovered that Violet needed to make amends for her past behavior and then broke things off with Brion.

Tobais Whale came back into Halo’s life seeking out the drug formula, and kidnapped her parents. She had no idea what he was talking about as the memory of the theft was gone, even with the help of her friends Violet’s parents were killed. Her memories were returned when the JL discovered what possessed her body, and the Auakle wanted to split her and their friend, killing her in the process. The outsiders saved her, and was finally left in peace to go find herself.

During this time she got lured into the Kobra cult and had to be saved by the Outsiders once more, rejoined them. However her body was killed during events of an attack on Markovia, where the ex wife of one of the Outsiders allies, and Halo took over the body of Marissa Barron, but went by the name of Violet due to connections to her former body.

In addition the new 52 redid her story to have it where Violet was imprisoned by the Kobra cult in Markovia. During this time Katana, who is on her own mission, frees Violet and steals a police van with the girl, only for the two to be caught when they stop the van to rest, thinking they’re safe.

In the redone story of Halo, the Aurkles have been captured by Kobra, and with the help of a kidnapped Scientist (I think it’s Dr. Jace) Violet is forced to experimented upon and this gives her super powers. The try to mind control her, but the Aurkles breaks free and kills everyone present but shields Violet from harm. Katana threatens to kill them and they back off allowing her and Violet to escape.

When awake from her ordeal Violet uses her powers but Katana and her partner the Entchantress knock her out. Enchantress at the time tries to free Violet from the Aurkles, but the bond is permanent. During this time the Aurkles try to free their friend, but their actions would have killed Halo, so Enchantress has to kill them to keep her alive. Halo saves Katana and Enchantress and Katana takes Halo on as a sister and offers to let her live with her.

Second question…what is Qurac?

Okay so while one can see Qurac as a fake name for Iraq the two nations are not the same and are independent of one another’s history.

Qurac is a gulf nation that runs along the eastern boarder of the Sinai Peninsula from Oman and Rub’al Khali on the south, Saudi Arabia and the Summan on the west and Iraq and Wadi al Batin on the north.

It’s considered an Outlaw nation due to it’s anti-u.s. policies and was a major sponsor of terrorism in the west. Originally, it was ruled by the Ottoman Empire until around the time of WW1 when English and Arab forces defeated the Empire, and the area then held by England until WW2. Now things get interesting…

So during WW2 the Premier of Iraq, one Al-Gailiani, who was a Arab Nationalist, decided to replace the then moderate Iraqi government with a Pro-Axis one. The Brits were having none of that thus the Invasion of Basra in 1941.

Hassan al-Sadr, one of Al-Gailiani’s supporters, fled south and galvanized Arab tribesmen into an army, and, taking the name Sulieman, he was aided by the Germans with materials and funding to establish the nation of Qurac. Because of their alliance Qurac allowed the building of Jotunheim, a giant fortress which was later assaulted by the Suicide Squad when a terrorist organization took hold of it. Jotunheim wrecked the shipping in the Oman and Persian gulfs during this time, and eventually Sulieman’s regime was defeated by the end of the war.

After WW2 Qurac became a republic and that lasted until the 1970s when a military coup led by General Marlo, overthrew the elected government and declared it a military dictatorship, against the will of the people. During his reign Marlo has tested nuclear devices that contaminated the oil supply which is the foremost natural resources. This lead Marlo to attack several international locations, among them Metropolis, causing Superman to come after him and destroy much of his military capability. Marlo eventually was defeated and brought to stand trial thanks to the work of the Suicide squad. Sometime later Cheshire used a nuclear missile on the nation as a means to show she wasn’t afraid of using the weapons she had stolen, causing trouble for aid workers to help survivors.

So that is the comic history of the nation and character…

Question three is…what is a mother box and a New God?

So a New God is a being that is from New Genesis or Apokolips. Respectively you can see them as a heavenly place or a hellish landscape. Batman believes each New God represents something, like Orion is War, Mr. Miracle is Freedom, etc. They live on the Fourth world which is in close proximity to the Source, which is basically a place where most of the powers of the universe come from.

“The Source is the "source" of all that exists and acts as the limitless energy from which all life sprang forth in the Universe. The Source created and was created by the emergence of the Universe approximately 19 billion years ago.[1] Mostly associated with the New Gods, the Source was the supposed origin of the "Godwave" that is believed to have been responsible for creating and empowering the "Gods" with their divine abilities. It also seems to be partially responsible for the ability of certain people to develop super-powers, especially those which defy the laws of physics.

Lying at the edge of the known multiverse is the Source Wall, which protects the Source, and traps all those who attempt to pass beyond it as Promethean Giants.”

So New Gods evolved into almost perfect beings due to their close connection to the source, their technology and other factors. They’re faster, stronger, smarter, etc. than their cousins the humans of earth, even though they look like us.

Another factor about the New Gods is that they are technically immortal, have acceletated healing, and you can’t really kill them with natural means, you need a specific sort of material to use against them, or they just will keep healing up and fixing themselves. Now I don’t know if anyone of them has ever revived directly from death, but near death…yes, several times.

They also obtain powers that are pretty much super depending on who it is.

As for the Mother Box…

So these “living computers” are half sentient being half highly developed machine. The New God Himon, who used Tenth Metal to build the boxes, which is seen as possibly being alive, created them and they can do a number of things. Anything from forming a boom tube, to translating, to energy manipulations to teleportation to, even healing an injury.

According to Metron, one of the smartest New Gods, the Mother box shares a rapport with nature and it’s user, providing unconditional love to the person that owns it and will self destruct should the person that owned it die. Keep in mind the mother box can be woven into just about anything, Scott Free has his in his costume as a part of it.

The list of things they can do is wild:

Change gravity

Transfer energy from one place to another

 Control the mental state of a host

 Communicate with other life forms

 Manipulate the life force of a host to sustain it past fatal injuries,

Open and close boom tubes

Take over and control non-sentient machines

Merge sentient beings into a single more powerful being

Sustain a life form in a hostile environment.

Okay so now about Earth 16 Halo….

So what do we know about Violet? We know that she was named Gabrielle and that she was a citizen of the republic of Qurac, which has been having strife with Queen Bee. We know that she came to Markovia after being chased down by a group of monsters that seems to be attacking. For some reason she agreed to open the door to let assassins in to kill the King and Queen and then was killed herself to install a mother box in her.

It’s clear by now it’s a mother box. But who did it belong to.

This becomes important I think in understanding the character we have here. Gabriella died, and while the Mother box did revive her, much like the original Halo, this is not the same girl that was Gabrielle. This isn’t a case of amnesia, the only thing keeping Violet alive right now is that box inside her, and that box, should the owner die, will destroy itself, unless it sees Gabriella as it’s owner now.

This means that the girl that we have before us isn’t really Gabrielle, she is the Mother box (or New God) taking on a new form, and reading the memories that are storied in Gabrielle’s mind. Because of the fact that the original Gabrielle died, we can then view this person as someone that is, for lack of a better term, wearing Gabrielle’s skin. This also brings up the question of identity and if the being inside her, that being this Mother box, identifies with Gabrielle’s religion or not. Violet at this point clearly feels that continuing to at least wear the hijab is the right thing to do for her, as she says, “it feels right” shows that at least the Mother box is reading the remaining emotions or whatever, inside of Gabrielle’s memories.

A lot of the issues people seem to be having with her centers around if she is her nationality, and honestly I have to say, no, she is not. The moment Gabrielle died and the Mother box activated reviving her, she lost all of that. She became a new person who is learning to be the person that Gabrielle was, but she is not Gabrielle. Thus the taking of the new name. Because of this, you can’t really judge the character on the outfits or actions they put her in based on who Gabrielle was, because this isn’t her anymore, and I don’t think this is ever going to be again. The girl that was Gabrielle died, she is dead, and there is no bringing her back. All we have now is Violet, a person who is learning to be a person, who is experiencing things for the first time inside a person’s body.

Now was it a smart idea to make her a Muslim girl from Qurac, compared to her original form, I don’t know. On the one hand, I can see where the issues regarding her being killed over and over can come off as something horrible. And that her outfit wouldn’t be seen as proper (and compared to M from Marvel this is a pretty fully covered look) compared to say Ms. Marvel’s look. However, on the other side of things, this isn’t Gabrielle anymore and because of that she has to be looked at by a different standard as she has no clue what Gabrielle would and wouldn’t wear. It’s also important to note that their costumes were designed to best suit their powers, and more than likely Fire set Violet up with cloth that would make it easier to use her abilities, much like Geoforce not ripping off all his clothing.

As more and more of Gabrielle’s memories come back, the likelihood is that Violet will have to face a choice to live as Violet or as Gabrielle. There’s also the added issue of the Mother Box and, well, who’s it is and if there is a New God in her or at least, accessing her body.

Keep in mind also that Mother boxes don’t normally create illusions, but New Gods do. Right now there’s some form of confirmation that the Mother box is inside Halo, thus making her what she is. We know that the powers she has seems to mirror that of the Mother boxes, and yet there are a few that don’t.

Halo can fly, while the Mother box can alter gravity it can’t make someone fly. Halo can cast illusions, create beams, Force fields, etc. the Mother box can’t do that –unless that falls under energy manipulation, which it could, but it still leads to the other option that could be happening here.

The Mother box is working in tandem with a New God is one of the other options for this. We’ve heard that the Mother box is inside Halo and keeping her alive. However there is the option for a New God to be using the body as well. New Gods can poessess others, it’s one of the options of their powers, and the one New God that matches a lot of the powers that Violet has right now is Solis, or Light Ray.

Lightray or Solis,  is the best friend of Orion, a powerful New God that can fly, has accelerated healing, Photokinesis or the ability to manipulate light in many ways, including force fields, blasts and casting illusions. The reason I bring him up at all is because of what Bear states in Away Mission. During the episode Bear, says that that the Real Orion is away from New Genesis. Now why could that be?

Originally I thought that this meant that the Mother box could be Orion’s and that they were holding him captive. However, the big thing about this is that you don’t just capture a Mother Box, it’s not easy to get, and the other factor is that Orion’s controls his beast/rage form. Without it he becomes a wild animal. 

Which could explain the monster we see chasing down Halo and the others in her memories.

The other option is that the mother box belonged to Lightray who is being  held prisoner, as with Orion, only he tapped into his connection with his Mother box and is now connected to it allowing Halo to access his powers until help can arrive in the form of Orion.

So we have three options here.

Option 1. Halo’s powers come strictly from the Mother Box and the Mother box has become the person Violet that is now inhabiting the mortal remains of Gabrielle Doe, who was the girl from Qurac that died at the hands of Ecks and the others.

Option 2. Halo’s powers are coming from a mix of the Mother box and Lightray/Solis who is right now incapacitated and is using his mother box inside Halo to keep others from using him for whatever purpose that they will. And that Orion is looking for his best friend, thus why M’comm was able to pretend to be him.

Option 3. Halo’s powers are coming from the Mother box, but the box belongs to a captured Orion. Should Orion be saved this could put a serious issue up in the air for Halo. As the Mother box would belong to Orion this would mean it may have to be removed as it has a connection to Orion and would want to go back with him home, since it helps calm him down. Orion could be a dick about it and want it back as well leading to a fight over Halo and her life, or he could be talked down from it by Bear and the other Forever people, which is also an option here.

Ultimately I feel like a lot of people are viewing Halo in a way that seems to be under the impression that she’s alive. Let me reiterate, she is not. She is not the girl that died, she is a vastly different character, one who’s deaths I think mean something. Each death may be processed by the Mother box for a reason, and probably will be used later in the story. As she understands that pain the box can then probably dish out everything upon someone that is attacking them at some point. That is honestly where I think we are going with this.

I hope this all makes sense.

#young justice: outsiders #young justice spoilers #young justice outsiders spoilers #young justice season 3 #young justice theories #young justice theory #young justice #yj spoilers #yjo spoilers #yj:o #yjs3 #yj outsiders #yj season 3 #yj #yj theory #yj theories #halo #gabrielle daou #violet harper #violet #orion #lightray #solis #new gods #mother box #DC comics

[louislouisrap]

long distance (kacchako)

I don’t understand what prioritization means.

I swear to god I’m working on the last part of Black Water but I was so captured by one of ualright’s tweets about Bakugo and Uraraka being in a long distance relationship that I had to crank one (a fic) out.

I have strong feelings about LDRs because I was in one for about two years before I moved to be with my now-husband. Shit sucks but it feels real good when you first see the other person after months or years apart. 

In this lil one-shot, these two have been apart for about two months while Uraraka was away on a rescue mission. emjoy <3 

Finally, the day was here, and Uraraka was coming home. It had been exactly two months and three days since she’d left--not like Bakugo had been counting down or anything. Or at least, not to begin with. Neither of them had been exactly certain when Uraraka would return from her rescue mission, which had made her departure especially hard.

It had all happened so fast: Breaking news reports began popping up that there had been a devastating earthquake in a small developing nation and the estimated death toll was only going up at an alarming rate. While pro heroes did exist there, the network was small, underfunded, and still new. Many support heroes themselves had been killed in the quake, and seismologists warned that the aftershocks would guarantee even more destruction. The same day the news broke, Japan, along with other nations, had sent aid workers to the small country. Amongst them, some of the best pro heroes they had to offer. Uraraka was one of the first to be contacted; she’d accepted immediately and was on a plane a few hours later.

It had been a solemn goodbye at the airport, with Uraraka trying not to cry but doing so anyway, and Bakugo muttering that she better show up those other foreign pro heroes, to which Uraraka laughed through her tears and said she’d do her best. They’d hugged and kissed until Bakugo insisted she’d miss her plane if she didn’t leave now. He’d watched her with an unreadable expression as she shuffled with the crowd towards the security checkpoint, waiting until she’d vanished from sight.

A tiny part of Bakugo’s mind, which he had silenced aggressively and immediately, feared if she would return at all.

But here they were now, Uraraka on a plane bound for Narita airport, and Bakugo on a train there to meet her. She’d fussed that he didn’t have to take the time to go all the way there, and he argued that she would need someone to help with her luggage so she might as well stop complaining, which she did rather quickly with a smile in her voice.

Bakugo didn’t get excited for much. Or at least, not outwardly excited, but when he did, it was usually in response to situations where he could flex his strength and power, be it against villain or Deku alike. Now he was finding the butterflies in his stomach strange, and he fought to keep his foot from tapping impatiently on the floor of the train as it made its way towards the airport. Too damn slow, he thought, even though he’d made sure he’d be arriving before Uraraka’s flight landed. To keep his mind occupied, Bakugo turned on the plush bench towards the window behind him, propped an elbow up on the sill, and watched the scenery. It was late March when Uraraka left, and she’d lamented that they probably wouldn’t get to see the cherry blossoms together this year. The weather had been cool, and the trees were only just beginning to bud. Now the passing scenery was awash with green and the days were brighter, the sky more blue, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Bakugo would soon be reunited with the person he’d come to, after two years, treasure most in this world.

It was early afternoon and the train car was mostly empty and the sunlight streaming through the windows warmed the air, though Bakugo wished the few passengers scattered around would just leave so he could ruminate in peace. He hated the weird tingling in his gut, the way his hands were sweating in anticipation. He scowled as he rubbed his palms roughly against his jeans, desperately wishing he could be alone to pop off a few small explosions to quell his perspiration. Finally, the automated voice overhead announced that the stop for the airport was next, and Bakugo practically leapt out of his seat to stand in front of the train car doors.

When the train slowed to a stop, Bakugo took a shaky breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and made his way into the airport. It was a massive place, and Bakugo spent a couple minutes checking the signs hanging from the ceiling to make sure that he was headed in the right direction. He passed by other couples walking hand in hand, families hugging one another, and Bakugo’s heart beat just a little faster in his chest. That was going to be him soon. That would be him and Uraraka. He would finally be able to feel and touch her again. The region she’d been sent to wasn’t necessarily remote, but as it was a developing nation in the midst of an infrastructural crisis, a good internet connection had been hard for Uraraka to come by. Adding in the long days, oftentimes even when she did have a decent signal, she was so exhausted that the most she could muster was a ‘hi’ and ‘I’m doing okay’ or ‘I miss you.’ The lack of communication and, possibly more importantly, physicality had begun to take a toll on them both. Bakugo felt himself practically aching to wrap his arms around her again.

Finally, he reached the wing of international arrivals. It was busy--families, friends, significant others milling around outside the restricted area from where passengers would soon stream out before collecting their luggage. Bakugo pulled his hands out of his jean pockets and stuck them in his jacket pockets instead. He bounced slowly on the balls of his feet and scowled in everyone else’s general direction. A few people, Bakugo noticed out the corner of his eye, were glancing at him and whispering here and there. A small child’s eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped as his mother smiled and tried to capture his attention with a small toy. Normally Bakugo would just ignore the stares, maybe even reluctantly take a photo or sign an autograph for a kid, but now he just wished they would all piss off. The only thing on his mind was Uraraka.

Finally, a few people trickled out into the vestibule, and Bakugo’s heart leapt into his throat. She would be here any minute now. He stayed a respectable distance from the edge of the entrance, so as not to appear too eager, but close enough that Uraraka would be able to spot him immediately.

Bakugo’s heart dropped from his throat into his stomach as soon as he caught sight of her. His brain registered her instantly. The chestnut of her hair, her bright round eyes, the exact height at which his line of sight would pick her up. All of the little things about her over the past two years that had nestled and fit into him like pieces of a puzzle, that he had no power over, yet he welcomed her into his consciousness without a second thought.

Bakugo chewed his bottom lip to keep from breaking into a bigger grin as he took in the sight of her. She looked the same--of course she looks the same, you idiot, it’s only been two months--and yet it was obvious that the trauma of the rescue mission had taken its toll on her. There were faded dark circles under her eyes; her shirt sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and her right arm was sporting a square of gauze held in place with medical tape. Small, faded spots of yellow-green bruises speckled her arms and shins, and a long, thin gash that had since scabbed over peeked out from the collar of her shirt. Her hair was pulled messily into a ponytail and her cheeks weren’t quite the radiant pink they usually were, but god she was beautiful.

Uraraka’s tired eyes shone as soon as she saw Bakugo waiting for her in the crowd, and she broke out into a run to meet him, hefting her large duffel bag onto her shoulder as she did. Without a word, Bakugo removed his hands from his pockets, ready to embrace her. He could already see her nose growing pinker, a sure sign that she was about to start crying. Uraraka let the duffel bag fall to the ground as she all but slammed her body against Bakugo’s and wrapped her arms around him.

They quietly clung to each other for what felt like forever, as if making up for the time they’d spent without physical contact by being as close now as possible. Bakugo tipped his head down, and his lips made contact with the crown of her head. He breathed in the smell of her hair, her sweet floral shampoo now mixed with the unfamiliar permeation of the dust and concrete that had followed her home.

Uraraka herself was comforted with the familiar scent of detergent and nitroglycerin as she pressed her face into Bakugo’s chest and closed her eyes. The scent of him seemed to flow through her body, reassuring her that she was home now. All the memories of death and destruction she’d seen, the long days of rescue that had stretched into the dead of night, the pain and fatigue, all seemed to soften just a bit in her mind now.

Finally Uraraka broke their embrace, and leaned up on her toes to kiss her boyfriend. “I missed you so much, Bakugo,” she said quietly, her cheek pressed against his as her arms now wound around the back of his neck.

“Missed you too, Round Face,” Bakugo murmured into her ear. “But let’s get the fuck out of here and go home.”

Uraraka smiled into his cheek and nodded. She knew how much he loved crowds, which was not at all; not to mention after her long flight, she really, really wanted to go home and shower. “Let’s go.”

Bakugo grunted approvingly and scooped up Uraraka’s duffel bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. She slipped her hand into his as they made their way downstairs to the trains back into the city.

---

They didn’t speak much on the way home. Uraraka fell asleep for most of the trip, her head resting against Bakugo’s shoulder as he took care to make sure at least one of her fingers stayed upright while he held her hand in his. He shook her gently at the stop before theirs and she woke up blearily.

“You’re cute when you’re drooling,” Bakugo rumbled and grinned devilishly at her. Uraraka blushed and immediately wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“So mean,” she teased back.

After a short walk from the station, they reached their apartment. Bakugo unlocked the door and Uraraka nearly collapsed on the floor with relief. “Hooooome!” she squealed, kicking her shoes off in the foyer and racing towards the bathroom. “A real shower!”

“Keep it down, would ya?” Bakugo tossed the duffel bag into their bedroom, then followed Uraraka into the bathroom. As she undressed to shower, he could see even clearer the contrast of the blue-green bruises and reddish-brown, scabbed-over gashes against her pale skin. Instead of sympathy, however, a burst of pride welled in his stomach. He couldn't help the smile that split across his face as he came up behind her and pressed his lips to the back of her head.

"Damn, Round Face, you really did a number.”

Uraraka sighed and dropped her head. "You should have seen all this before the recovery heroes had a chance to heal me." She bit her lip and ripped off the medical tape keeping the patch of gauze secure on her arm. The skin beneath it was new and pink, a fresh scar that would stay with her forever. “I feel fine, though.”

Bakugo hummed in response, low and gravelly that buzzed against Uraraka’s head. “You want tea?”

Uraraka stepped into the shower and closed the curtain. “Yes, please!”

---

They sat in bed together as Uraraka recounted everything that had happened during the rescue mission. Her voice rose excitedly as she recalled all the pro heroes she’d met, and all the different cuisines she’d been able to try, as the makeshift base camps from each nation had their own cooks on hand. She smiled gently as she told Bakugo about the families she’d been able to save, children, adults, even pets she’d found in the rubble when it seemed hopeless that they’d find anyone alive. Bakugo gripped her shoulder tight and pulled her close when she had trouble talking about those that hadn’t made it through the night, or the countless times when they’d arrived only minutes too late.

“Hey,” Bakugo said, tipping Uraraka’s chin up towards him. “You’re a fucking hero.”

Uraraka sniffed and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

#kacchako #bakuraka #bakugo katsuki #uraraka ochako #my fic stuff #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugo says fuck #mmmm let me drown in this fluffy shit #priorities #i think you mean suggested schedule #i am not a doctor #hi i don't know how to end a story

[newstfionline]

Wednesday, May 19, 2021

Changed by pandemic, many workers won’t return to old jobs (AP) There’s a wild card in the push to return to post-pandemic life: Many workers don’t want to go back to the jobs they once had. Layoffs and lockdowns, combined with enhanced unemployment benefits and stimulus checks, gave many Americans the time and the financial cushion to rethink their careers. Their former employers are hiring again — and some, like Uber and McDonald’s, are offering higher pay—but workers remain hesitant. Employers and business groups argue that the $300-per-week federal unemployment supplement gives recipients less incentive to look for work. But Heidi Shierholz, a senior economist who researches low- and middle-income workers with the Economic Policy Institute, said health concerns and child care responsibilities seem to be the main reasons holding workers back. In April, she said, at least 25% of U.S. schools weren’t offering in-person learning, forcing many parents to stay home. And health concerns could gain new urgency for some workers now that the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has said fully vaccinated people can stop wearing masks in most settings. Some workers say the pandemic helped them prioritize their mental and physical health. And in a tight labor market, some workers are also finding that if they hold out, they might get a better job than the one they left.

Unhealthy Dose of Litigation (CNN) It’s not personal, it’s just business. Tell that to tens of thousands of individuals sued by hospitals for ‘medical debt’ they have no way of ever paying. Community Health Systems, Inc. (CHS) is one of America’s largest hospital chains. A CNN investigation found that since March 2020, company-owned hospitals filed at least 19,000 lawsuits against their patients over allegedly unpaid medical bills, even as other hospitals around the country have curtailed similar lawsuits during the pandemic. CHS’s 84 hospitals are concentrated in the South, but stretch across 16 states from Alaska to Key West, Florida. The hospitals have sued patients for as little as $201 and as much as $162,000. Most defendants didn’t hire a lawyer or fight the lawsuits, and judges often rendered a default judgment in the hospital’s favor. Attorney’s fees and interest are often tacked on. Once a court rules against a defendant, a hospital can proceed to put a lien on the defendant’s house or garnish part of their wages. Many garnishments were against people working for low-wage employers like Walmart. A researcher who has studied hospital lawsuits said that it’s typical for hospitals that sue patients to only make a tiny fraction of their revenue from those lawsuits. “It’s not keeping the lights on for the hospitals—they don’t need to be doing this,” she said. “But for the patients... They’re choosing between medical care and food.”

Argentina Halts Beef Exports for 30 Days to Contain Prices (Bloomberg) Argentina’s government is limiting exports of beef, a staple in the country, in the latest unorthodox move to try to contain runaway inflation that’s approaching 50% annually. President Alberto Fernandez told a key beef export association that they won’t be allowed to sell the product abroad for 30 days, according to a Production Ministry statement released late Monday. “The president expressed his concern over the sustained growth in domestic beef prices over the last few months,” according to the statement. The country’s beef exports in 2020 amounted to roughly $3 billion, but the government may be more focused on the political cost of falling domestic consumption.

Spain Turns to Corruption Rehab for Officials Who Can’t Stop Stealing (NYT) Carlos Alburquerque isn’t your typical rehab candidate. He’s a 75-year-old grandfather living in Córdoba, a city in southern Spain. He was a town notary before he retired in 2015. He hasn’t touched drugs or alcohol in years. But his isn’t your typical rehab program: It’s an 11-month boot camp to reform corrupt Spanish officials and “reinsert” them into mainstream society. “Repairing the damage is what is left for me in this life,” said Mr. Alburquerque, who is serving a four-year prison sentence for stealing around 400,000 euros, nearly a half a million dollars, in his work drawing up contracts and deeds. That such a program exists in Spain may say much about the country’s belief in second chances as it does about how corruption has captured the public imagination here. Flip open a newspaper or turn on the radio: You will hear of schemes, scandals and skulduggery which almost always lead back to the public purse. According to Ángel Luis Ortiz, a former judge who now runs Spain’s prisons, the boom-bust cycles of Spain’s economy had led it to a long history of fraudsters and betrayals of public trust, he said. But at least, corruption rates in Spain were no worse than in other European nations, Mr. Ortiz said, just 5 percent of all crimes.

Russia’s northernmost base projects its power across Arctic (AP) During the Cold War, Russia’s Nagurskoye airbase was little more than a runway, a weather station and a communications outpost in the Franz Josef Land archipelago. It was a remote and desolate home mostly for polar bears, where temperatures plunge in winter to minus-42 Celsius (43 degrees below zero Fahrenheit) and the snow only disappears from August to mid-September. Now, Russia’s northernmost military base is bristling with missiles and radar and its extended runway can handle all types of aircraft, including nuclear-capable strategic bombers, projecting Moscow’s power and influence across the Arctic amid intensifying international competition for the region’s vast resources. Russia has sought to assert its influence over wide areas of the Arctic in competition with the United States, Canada, Denmark and Norway as shrinking polar ice from the warming planet offers new opportunities for resources and shipping routes. China also has shown an increasing interest in the region, believed to hold up to one-fourth of the Earth’s undiscovered oil and gas.

Cyclone kills 19 in India, heavy rains lash parts of Gujarat state (Reuters) A cyclone on India’s west coast has killed at least 19 people and damaged infrastructure and agriculture, while heavy rains continued to lash some regions even as weather officials said on Tuesday that the storm’s intensity had weakened. The cyclone Tauktae, which made landfall in the western state of Gujarat late on Monday, has hit power supply in 2,400 villages in the state as a thousand electricity pylons were damaged, Chief Minister Vijay Rupani said in a media address. Nearly 160 roads have been destroyed, 40,000 trees uprooted and several houses damaged, Rupani added.

India reports record day of virus deaths as cases level off (AP) India’s total virus cases since the pandemic began swept past 25 million on Tuesday as the country registered more than 260,000 new cases and a record 4,329 fatalities in the past 24 hours. The numbers continue a trend of falling cases after infections dipped below 300,000 for the first time in weeks on Monday. Active cases in the country also decreased by more than 165,000 on Tuesday—the biggest dip in weeks. But deaths have continued to rise and hospitals are still swamped by patients. Infections in India have surged since February in a disastrous turn blamed on more contagious variants as well as government decisions to allow massive crowds to gather for religious festivals and political rallies.

In Gaza, grief and destruction (Washington Post) In a conflict already marked by harrowing scenes of tragedy, one image stood out. Rescuers in Gaza City on Sunday pulled out Suzy Eshkuntana, a 6-year-old, from the rubble of a building that had once been her home, but which was flattened by Israeli airstrikes. She was covered in dust but alive. Her mother and all four of her siblings were dead. It’s not clear why the Eshkuntanas’ home was brought crashing down. Israeli authorities told reporters that they had targeted a network of tunnels used by Hamas militants that may have run beneath the area where the family lived. “The collapse of the tunnel system,” Reuters reported, “caused the houses above to collapse and led to unintended civilian casualties, the military said.” In Israel’s telling, there are many more “unintended” casualties in Gaza. According to local Health Ministry officials, the death toll in Gaza climbed to 212 people, including 61 children and 36 women, as fighting entered its second week. Gaza is one of the most densely populated areas in the world, home to some 2.1 million people, the majority of whom are classified as refugees by the United Nations. That’s a legacy of the displacements that followed Israel’s creation in 1948 and the 1967 Arab-Israeli War. Children make up about half of Gaza’s population. The territory has been under Israeli blockade since 2007, after Hamas took power following a rift within the Palestinian Authority. “Living conditions in Gaza are bleak: 95 percent of the population does not have access to clean water, according to [the United Nations], and electricity shortages periodically bring life to a halt,” my colleagues reported. “The territory has one of the highest unemployment rates in the world, World Bank statistics show, and the United Nations estimates that roughly 80 percent of the population relies on international aid to survive and access basic services.”

The New Arab Street: Online, Global and Growing (NYT) The video traveled at 4G speed, leapfrogging across international borders, social media platforms and social justice movements: a young Palestinian woman in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah, shouting in furious English at a Jewish man, “You are stealing my house!” “If I don’t steal it, someone else will steal it,” he retorts. Within days—as Israel bombed the coastal territory of Gaza, Palestinian militants there launched rockets at Israel, and Arab and Jewish mobs faced off in Israeli cities—the video had rocketed from young Palestinians’ social media feeds into the Arab diaspora, then lit up the internet, kindling outrage around the world. It used to be that when Palestinians were under fire, protests would follow in the streets of Arab cities. That potential for combustion forced Middle Eastern and Western leaders to keep a wary eye on the temperature of what was called the “Arab street.” This time, a week into an Israeli bombing campaign that has killed 212 Palestinians in Gaza, the reaction from Arab capitals has been muted and protests small and scattered. Instead, solidarity with the Palestinians has shifted online and gone global, a virtual Arab street that has the potential to have a wider impact than the ones in Middle Eastern cities. The online protesters have linked arms with popular movements for minority rights such as Black Lives Matter, seeking to reclaim the narrative from the mainstream media and picking up support in Western countries that have reflexively supported Israel.

Ransomware hits AXA units in Asia, Irish healthcare (AP) The Thai affiliate of Paris-based insurance company AXA said Tuesday it is investigating a ransomware attack by Russian-speaking cybercriminals that has affected operations in Thailand, Malaysia, Hong Kong and the Philippines. Meanwhile, a cyberattack on a public health provider in New Zealand took down information systems across five hospitals, forcing staff to cancel some elective surgeries and creating all sorts of other problems. It was unclear if the event was linked to a cyberattack that has nearly paralyzed Ireland’s national healthcare IT systems. The Irish government’s decision not to pay the criminals means hospitals won’t have access to patient records—and must resort mostly to handwritten notes—until painstaking efforts are complete to restore thousands of computer servers from backups.

The Places Ranked Best for Expats in 2021 (Bloomberg) Taiwan, Mexico and Costa Rica have been ranked as the top spots to live and work abroad in 2021, based on their cost of living, ease of settling in and overall quality of life. The U.S. was ranked only 34th out of 59 places, largely because of how expats viewed quality of life in America, according to a new survey published Tuesday. Taiwan topped the charts for the third year in a row in the survey of 12,420 expats conducted by InterNations, a Munich-based expat network with about 4 million members. The top 10: Taiwan, Mexico, Costa Rica, Malaysia, Portugal, New Zealand, Australia, Ecuador, Canada, Vietnam.

#headlines #news