#who may ACTUALLY be the most dangerous person in the city if not the country and maybe even surrounding countries
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Egon
(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader)
Rating: 18 + for violence and explicit smut.
Synopsis: A small confession leads to something completely unexpected.
Notes: As promised!! I'm super proud of this guys! I think I captured Simon quite nicely. I am new to the fandom, and still reading lore. Feel free to correct me on anything you see wrong. Egon is actually the codename for my OC Ema 'Egon' Swann. This fic started with her, but as to not be selfish, I made it more inclusive by changing it to the reader perspective! I hope you enjoy!!
Word count: 8k+
AO3
Egon.
German, by nature. Meaning "strong with the wind"
That was the nickname the men of task force 141 gave you.
They had many reasons for this name. You were fast–agile on your feet. Small and clean. It was hard for any enemy to catch you, or even see you coming. You were strong too, for a woman of your size. You could easily take down a man twice your size with the techniques you studied and used over the years. But their main reason for giving you this nickname was for your sharpshooter skills. No matter the conditions, you always made your shot. Rain, thunder, wind. You never missed. No outlying factor kept you from doing your job.
That's what gained you the respect of task force 141.
You've known these men for a while, having been asked to join the team just over two years ago. In that time, you got to learn the boys well. All of them respected you and treated you as their equal–something you worked so hard for. Being a woman in this field of work is challenging, even for some of the strongest ladies you know. That didn't stop you from doing your job–which impressed Price when he worked with you on a mission before he asked you to join the team.
It was a mission in New York City, where you were a part of the NYPD task force. The lead was mafia related and Price's team was called in to assist. Your captain at the time knew it was a risky job, and he needed devoted and dangerous men to help him take their leader down. You along with a couple of your own comrades fought side-by-side task force 141 and pushed through a successful mission.
Everything after that is history. You left with Price and his team, never looking back.
These men are your family now, and you love every single one of them in your own way. Price and Gaz keep to themselves most of the time– Soap is the one you'd definitely call 'brother'. You and him have the best dynamic. He's goofy and chill, and you adore that about him. Inherently with him comes his Lieutenant, Ghost. A man you haven't really been able to get a read on since you met him those couple years ago. Yes, of course, it's mainly to do with the fact that he wears that damn mask twenty-four-seven. But he also isn't the most personable guy. He speaks when he needs to, and fights when he has to--but he hasn't really gone out of his way to get to know you–even though you and Soap are practically attached at the hip.
Being close to Soap means he typically picks you to go along with him and Ghost on missions. Which you don't mind. When the three of you get split up, the commlink keeps you all close, figuratively.
One of the things you and Soap bonded over was your mutual adoration of music. You didn't have the best childhood, and music was your escape. It appeared Soap used music to his comfort as well. So, when you're on missions but split apart, Soap keeps in your ear either spatting off random lyrics of songs, or requesting you sing to him. Much to Ghost's dismay–who has to listen to you two banter about why you don't like country music, or why Soap can remember so many random lyrics. Ghost keeps quiet, and you wonder if you get on his nerves. He's the type of guy to speak his mind and the fact that he hasn't said anything yet suggests he may…be okay with it? Who knows with that man.
Ghost keeps close, but far away at the same time. He treated you like an equal, and always made sure he had your six. The same thing goes for you. Granted, the giant, pure muscle of a man never really needed your help. You were always there for him. Over time, he seemed to soften on you. He would use your real name on occasion. He got worried sometimes when you didn't answer his comms right away and would scold you once you were all back together.
'Fuck woman, answer the bloody comms when your superior asks for your status.' He would gruff in that deep British baritone.
You would never admit it, but something about that man set your body on fire. His size, his voice, his attitude. Fuck, his attitude alone. He exudes confidence and experience without being cocky. There's nothing quite like a confident man–a man who knows what he wants and can take it whenever he wants….but doesn’t. He was always looming over your shoulder, watching you intently through the holes in his mask. Soap would comment on it every now and then, making fun of the Lieutenant for not being able to keep his eyes off you for a moment. You didn't think it was that serious–you convinced yourself he was just watching you for your own safety. As any good teammate would.
But then the subtle touches started. You would feel his large hand splaying over your lower back as he walked beside you up the copter ramp, almost as if he was guiding you. Of course it never happened if someone was around to see it—he made sure of it. But it would happen more frequently. They were genuine, and gentle touches. And completely innocent. Being a woman, you had an intuition for men's intentions–since you dealt with them your entire life. Ghost never set any alarms off. You always felt safe with him.
You trusted him with your life, and you hoped he felt the same about you.
He was cold and calculating—mysterious and quiet. Though he showed those small, intimate minstations to you and you alone, you tried not to think too much into it. Ridding yourself of the disappointment before it reared its ugly head. You often thought about what he looked like under that mask. You've seen his eyes countless times. They were brown like freshly ground coffee. He had blonde eyelashes that stuck out amongst the black paint he smeared right there. He had a strong, chiseled jawline. Sometimes you can see a few prominent veins through his mask when he tightens it. His neck is strong and thick, no doubt riddled with scars from his many years slaughtering men.
You imagined what his body looked like too. He's a big man, standing almost an entire foot taller than you. He had thick, broad shoulders and a puffy, muscular chest. Even when he wore one hundred pounds of gear, you could still see how fit he was. His waist was thin and strong, he had a certain swagger when he walked that always caught your eye. His forearms almost looked fat, they were so fucking thick with muscle. He was covered in huge protruding veins on both arms–they were even visible on the arm that was covered in tattoos. And his hands always made you blush. They were twice the size of yours, and you spent many occasions watching his big fingers work the trigger on his guns like a thread. He was nimble, and agile there.
You wondered what they would feel like–if they would grip your throat with delicacy or fierceness. If they would roam down your neck and swallow your breasts in a warm squeeze. If they would trail your curves all the way down to your ass and nead the soft, pillowy flesh there. If they would tease you–circling around that sensitive bundle of nerves until you were weeping for him. If they would pump you, fill and stretch you out until you were ready for his cock. Or would he even give you that decency and instead, take you unprepared in a hot, lustful frenzy?
It's all human nature, you suppose. It's natural for a woman to be sexually attracted to a protector like Ghost. It goes back thousands of years–it's all instinct. That's what you tell yourself after you cum on your hand thinking about your Lieutenant. When that wave of unfiltered shame and guilt rushes over you following your high.
_______
"Egon, how copy?" Comes that familiar gruffy voice.
You jump slightly, shuddering out of your thoughts as you neel against the abandoned brick building. Your rifle in your left hand, fingers tight on the trigger.
"Jesus, Lieutenant–awaiting target. No eyes yet." You grunt out, face heating up in embarrassment. He always knew when to catch you off guard.
"Eyes on the prize, sergeant. Stay focused."
You scoff, eyes rolling as you adjust your stance slightly. It's dark, the only light you have to use coming from old, orange colored lamps hanging from the buildings. To top that off, it's been raining all day so it's doubly hard to see far in the distance. Even with a scope.
"Easy for you to say, Lieutenant. I'm out here freezing my ass off and you're inside a nice warm building." You mumble into the mic.
"Punishment for not listening to your superior."
"Bite me." You retort.
No response. You grin. Any opportunity you get to fight back at the Lieutenant scolding you, you'll take.
A few minutes in silence go by as you wait patiently for your target to come into view. You have a black mask covering the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes and forehead exposed. A heavy leather hood covers your hair. Soft pelts of rain dropping keep you focused in the moment. Your tactical boots are worn and wet, holes from misuse letting water in to soak your socks. The harness tied around your waist and thighs is digging into your pants, which are rubbing and chafing your skin. Your back hurts from being on your feet all day, and your head is pounding. You usually get headaches when it rains. You are so fucking ready for this day to be over.
You stay steadfast nonetheless. Eyes focused on the door the target will be coming out of.
A few more minutes go by in silence when you hear the comm start to buzz, indicating someone was about to speak.
"Why can't orphans play baseball?"
You can't help the cheeky grin that creeps its way upon your face.
"Why?" You ask.
"They don't know where home is."
"Ghost," You say with a huff, attempting to hide the laugh trying to claw its way out of your throat. "Shut the fuck up."
"It's inappropriate to speak to your superior that way."
"Sorry, let me rephrase. Shut the fuck up, sir."
"Better."
You grin, holding the butt of your rifle up to your cheek in anticipation. Your finger reaches up and you adjust the scope. You close your left eye and squint your right as you look through the glass. You hadn't realized you never turned off your mic when Ghost crimes in again.
"Control your breathing, Sergeant. It'll help you focus better."
Your breath catches in your throat the moment is deep voice comes through the ear piece. Was the bastard really listening to you breath this whole time? Your tongue slides over your bottom lip, moistening the smooth skin there. You let a long breath come out before slowly breathing back in, reducing your heart rate. With your breath now cool and even, you sink back into the task at hand.
"Atta girl." Ghost whispers in that english accent, his voice sending a wave of chills down your spine.
Your chest pulls tight at his encouraging words, and if you hadn't been so focused on the door in front of you, you may have retorted something flirty back. But just as you were about the touch the communicator, the door in your sights swings open. You pause and hunch down impossibly lower as a tall man, accompanied by three other men stumble out of the building. You're so low now your chest could practically touch your boots. Your back is arched and steady, fingers itching to pull the trigger as you search for the man you have a description of.
The rain is starting to pick up now, thunder rocketing through the air as lightning snaps to the ground in the distance. Your breathing is steady and firm, flowing visible streams in front of your face as the chill in the air makes you shiver.
You're so focused on identifying the target in front of you that you don't hear the footsteps approach you from behind. They're quiet, trained and quick. You lock eyes on the target. A tall, skinny man. He has long, curly blonde hair that flows just past his shoulders. The identifying marker is a scar on the left side of his face. It's long–stretching from the bottom of his jaw all the way up and over his eye. It stops just above his eyebrow.
Rain is starting to smear over the scope lense, making it increasingly difficult to see the taget. After a moment, you lick your lips away, your pointer finger hones down on the trigger and starts to stretch it down. The man across the way reaches down for the door handle on the SVU next to him. You take one final breath in and hold, steady and true. Your finger pulls down, emitting a loud pop in your ear. It's quick, and the target immediately falls to the ground. Not a word, not a sound. Silence as his body hits the cold, wet concrete. The men around him start to panic and pull their guns out, rapidly stomping around in circles to try and spot where the bullet came from.
One turns in your direction. He doesn't see you, but starts running in your direction. You cock back and lift on your feet. You stand to almost your full height, knees slightly bent. You pull the trigger again. The second victim drops to the ground with a loud and painful grunt. At this point, you've given yourself away. Blood rushes through your ears as the two other men start sprinting in your direction. You slowly start to back up, cocking back yet again to let another bullet fly. Bullseye–a direct hit to another man's head. Your focus now remains on the last man standing who has gone into a hiding stance. You stand up fully and start to turn. When you do, you hear the sound of another rifle going off. Blood splatters across your face as a man–whom you had no idea was directly behind you–falls against the brick wall and his lifeless body slides down.
You gasp softly at the sight–having had absolutely no clue the man was behind you getting ready to attack. You look around quickly, trying to locate where the shot came from when Ghost's voice comes through the headset.
"Thought you knew better, sergeant."
Your breathing is heavy as you look up at the building across the street. On the fourth floor, Ghost moves forward to reveal himself through the window. The bone part of his mask almost lights up as he positions his rifle and shoots the last of the men on the street. He looks down at you as he lowers his rifle. His massive body towering in the window. His eyes lock with yours as your chest heaves up and down. The hood on your jacket has fallen now, and rain is starting to soak your hair. It sticks to your cheeks and neck. The water soaks your face.
"Were you watching me?" You ask, slight irritation in your tone.
"Had I not been, you'd be dead."
You scoff, clenching your jaw and rolling your tongue in your mouth as you keep eye contact with him.
"Get down here. Let's go."
Embarrassment was evident in your tone, but you couldn't hide that from Ghost. You couldn't hide anything from a man with his experience. So you gave in and let it out.
Ghost was down in your area within a minute or so, and he approached you slowly.
It was still raining as you and Ghost started walking towards the safe house. It was a small cottage on the outskirts of this shitty little town. Price said there was a shower, and that's all you could ask for. You walk silently next to your superior, who hasn't looked at or spoken to you since he came down from the building. You keep your eyes forward and alert as your heavy boots slush through the wet streets.
"Have you heard from Soap?" You ask softly.
"Affirmative. He's on the other side of the city with Price and Gaz. They're at the other safehouse." He responded in that deep tone.
He's safe. A gentle sigh of relief left your lips as you continued your walk to the safehouse.
The walk there stays silent. With Ghost keeping close to your rear, he almost hovers over you but he's slow. Which is unusual for him. On occasion, you could have sworn you could hear his breathing. It was loud and sounded labored. You raised your voice a little at one point to ask if he was alright and grunted back at you. Something seemed off.
After a couple hours carefully trekking through the nearly flooded city, you made it to the safe house. It was pitch black, away from any city lights to give you away. It was a small, one room cottage. When you opened the door, you cleared the room with your rifle. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to house the two of you until the morning. There was a small, two person bed, a run-down kitchen and a small, detached bathroom with holes in the door. It was filthy, but you were thankful to be out of the rain. You noticed a small fireplace that seemed clean enough to use.
You turn to Ghost, who is towering behind you. "I'll start a fire. You should try and get a hold of Price and let him know we're okay."
The large man grunted, and turned slowly in the direction on the bed. You watched his feet almost drag the floor. And when he sat down on the edge of the bed, you noticed him trying to conceal the hand that was holding his side.
You watch him for a few moments before turning your attention to the fire. It was starting to get cold. Worry about Ghost later so the both of you don't freeze to death here. Gathering what little kindling and firewood you could find, you begin to light the fire. First you pile in some pieces of wood you found here and there, and then you line the tower with what kindling you could find. Reaching into your soaked chest pocket, you pulled out the lighter you hoped wasn't flooded. And by some miracle, it wasn't. You easily ignited a small fire in the run-down fireplace.
Turning around, you glance over to see Ghost still sitting with his hand on his side. His hulking figure dips the mattress by a good bit.
"Fucking awful communicators." He grunts out before he rips the mic off his head.
"Not able to get a hold of Price, huh?" You say with a soft smile.
He shakes his head slowly. A grunt being his only response, again.
You stand from where you sit, starting to pull your weapons and gear off. Your weapons come first. You gently set the rifle up against the wall, and place your handguns beside them. Knives get stuck in a pile next to the handguns. You reach around to unstrap your vest, pulling it off your shoulders. It drops to the floor with a thud, which grabs Ghost's attention. Once your vest is off, you move to take your harness off. Ghost watches you through half lidded eyes. You prop one leg up on a grate for better access to the straps that trail from your waist, all the way down to your feet. Starting with the foot strap, you unclip the buckle. Your hands slide up your calves to your thighs, where the second set of straps dig into the skin there.
You quickly make way with those buckles and pull them down your legs. The last strap around your waist is easy. You stand and unclip the last buckle and let that strap fall to your feet. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as you turn to walk towards Ghost. He was still watching you, his hand holding his side. He hasn't moved–still sitting there uncomfortably, no doubt, in his full gear. You approach him slowly, hands hugging your hips as you test these waters.
"Let me see." You say gently as you stop directly in front of him. He's so big that he's still eye height with you, even sitting down.
"I'm fine." He grunts.
"Sir–"
"I said I'm fine. Tend to your own." He says.
"I just want to help, sir. "
He glances up at you through his mask. You're standing close–so close he can feel the heat radiating off your body. His eyes meet your face, his hand still hovering over the wound on his side.
"Do you trust me?" You ask gently.
He seems hesitant, no doubt unsure what he wants to do. But after a few moments of watching you, he lets the hand on his side slowly drop to his thigh. He breathes out slowly.
"Yes."
You take this moment to be bold for the first time with him. You suck a breath in and hold, slowly reaching forward and gliding your hands over his shoulders. They fall down his back to unstrap the back of his weapons vest. Your eyes bounce back and forth between his as your chest presses softly to the pack on the front of his body. You pull the straps up over his shoulders and let the best slide down his front, pulling it off and gently setting it down on the floor by his feet. Next, your nimble fingers work at the zipper on his jacket–pulling down until it unclips at the bottom. You run your hands over his shoulders again to pull the rain jacket off–setting it on the mattress next to him.
He looks bigger this way, which should be impossible. You just took eighty pounds of gear off his body but even now, in just his black pull-over hoodie and rain jacket, he looks bigger. His muscles are more defined. You can see the bulge of his strong pecs, the roundness of his arms.
You stand up to look at him once again.
"May I?" You ask softly.
He doesn't speak, but nods slowly.
You mind his permission and slowly grab the bottom of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his chest. What reveals is a nasty stab wound–about three inches long. Blood trails all the way down to his jeans. Most of it is dry, but some warm blood indicates it's still bleeding.
"Jesus wept. You were going to leave this unattended?" You ask, glancing up to meet his gaze.
He brings his hand up to hold his hoodie for you. You remove your hand and reach into the first aid kit attached to his utility belt. Pulling it open and starting to look through the supplies.
"I've had worse." He retorts with a snort.
You can't help but smile gently, looking at him through the corner of your eye as you rummage through his bandage pack.
"You're an idiot."
"I'll be sure to remember that when I'm doing your performance review."
"In that case, be sure to remember this. I want a raise." You say with a small laugh as you set some bandages down on his thigh.
"A raise? You can barely do what you're told now. Only good employees get raises." He retorts, you swear you can hear the grin on his mouth.
"I've never been one to respect authority." You say, a cheeky grin meeting his gaze as your hand brings a sanitary wipe to his wound.
"Fuckin' Americans."
You laugh out loud this time, hand gently gliding over his wound–cleaning it with the sanitary wipe. You take notice of his build. He's strong, thick and muscular. He has some chest hair, and some hairs that trail under his jeans. He's incredibly built as well–of course he is. You knew that. He was a huge man, and incredibly strong. There was no doubt in your mind he was sculpted to the heavens. His skin is littered with scars. Some range from as small as your fingernails, to the size of your fist. You wish you could touch them all, to ask their stories. How did he get this one? That one?
The little shack is quiet for a few more minutes as you finish cleaning and treating his wound. You take it slow so as to not cause him any discomfort. Something tells you he really doesn't care, but you do. His eyes watch you through the hole in the skull of his mask. The black eye paint makes his blue hues glow in the moonlight. Rain patters softly against the metal roof. Your hand glides smoothly over the patch you're placing over the stab wound. You flatten your palm to smooth it out as much as possible. His breathing is steady as it fans against your cheek. Your proximity to him right now may have been alarming if you didn't know him well.
He stays still, watching you as he holds the hoodie up over his chest. His gaze brings goosebumps to the back of your neck, making your hairs stand up. You feel the need to break this awkward silence.
"This scar looks like it was painful." You say ever so softly, your free hand coming down to the four inch scar on his abdomen. Your palm flattens and your thumb grazes it gently.
"They were all painful." He says, a hint of tease in his tone. His voice has softened considerably.
"Yeah? I wouldn't have guessed, sir." You say, eyes flashing up to meet his as your mouth pulls into a sweet smile again.
"Simon. No need to be formal when we're alone." He says, followed by your name. It rolled off his tongue with ease–like it was the most natural thing for him to say.
"Right. Simon–" you say softly. You're not pulling apart the last part of the bandage to stick it on top. "--how did you get this one?" You ask, pointing to another scar on one of his pecs.
"In the Military. My first deployment. This was one of the first." He says.
"I remember those days. I was eighteen when I joined the Marine Corp. Got a few scars myself. Though, they're more mental than anything." You say, bringing a hand up to tap the side of your head and smile. "Yours have more meaning behind them, I think."
"Rightfully ugly things." He says, his eyes now following your hands as they work to cover the rest of his wound.
"Not at all–" you say as you stop your movements. Your eyes meet his when he takes notice and lifts his head to see you. "--I find them endearing."
His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you–indicating he's unsure of the meaning behind your statement.
"I mean, they show your growth…as a man. You had to overcome each one of these–" you say as you move to continue wrapping his wound. "--they're all testaments to how strong you are. Mentally and physically. I don't find them ugly in the slightest."
Your hand stops moving as you've finally finished patching his wound. Standing up straight, you bring your eyes back to his. He slowly releases his hoodie to let it drop back down, but his eyes never once leave yours. He almost seems dumbfounded–at a loss for words. He just stares at you for a few moments before speaking.
"I don't understand." He says, almost a whisper.
"What's not to understand?" You ask.
His hands are laying on his thighs, but his fists are clenching and unclenching. He doesn't speak, so you take this chance to elaborate.
"Simon, I don't know much of your past. Well, anything about your past, really–" you say gently, your hands slowly glide up and test the waters, laying on top of his strong shoulders. "--I don't need to. I know the man you are now. Neither of us are perfect. But I do know that you're a good man, who will always have my back. That's all that matters."
His eyes never leave yours as your hands slowly glide over from his shoulders, and up his neck to rest holding his strong jaw.
"And I will always have yours. That's what being a team is all about."
You're holding his jaw gently; you can feel it clenching as he watches you through the skull mask. You're close to him now, closer than you have been. Your hips are slotted between his legs. His fingers reach out and softly graze the outside hem on your jeans–silently asking for permission. You glance down to his hands, before back up to his face and slowly nod.
His large hands come out to flatten against the outside of your thighs, softly squeezing the flesh there as they glide up and over your hips. They rest there, just above your ass. His warmth sends chills down your spine as he pulls you closer, your chest almost touching his. His palms spread against your curves and his thumbs dig into your belly.
"What's on your mind, sergeant?" Ghost asks, his voice barely above a whisper as your face inches closer to his.
You continue holding his jaw, keeping him attentive to you and you alone. Your breath fans over his covered lips. Your thumbs start to rub small circles over the sharp bones under them.
"I often think…" you trail off as your right thumb moves towards the center of his face--finding his bottom lip under the mask and pressing down. "...think about what your smile looks like. I reckon you're quite handsome."
"Is that right?" His voice is low, now laced with something akin to longing.
His hands give your hips a good squeeze, shuffling your lower half closer to his. His thighs trap you in their strength.
"Mhm." You hum softly.
You find yourself being bold again, thumbs leaving his lips to trail down his neck again. You locate the bottom of his mask and slip both thumbs under the hem. You stop momentarily, giving him ample time to stop you. Only, he doesn't. You can feel the moment his muscles tense and you hear his breath hitch. But his eyes never leave you, and neither do his hands. They squeeze you and pull you harder.
As to not betray his trust, your eyes slowly flutter closed. Your thumbs slip under his mask completely and gingerly begin pulling up. You pull it up and over his lips. Along the way, you can feel the defined muscles of his neck–the large veins. His chin and jaw are prickly, most likely from a recent shave. You pull it up to sit just in the tip of his nose. Eager fingers return to his chin, thumb coming back to slide over his lower lip. It's full, and warm. Feels slightly damp, like he had just licked it. His breath is warm on your hand as you continue to feel him here.
Your other fingers stretch to try and feel the back of his head, wanting to know if he has thick or coarse hair. Is it curly or straight? Blonde like his eyelashes or brown?
His hands become impatient and begin sliding up your sides. In the process, he pulls the skin-tight undershirt out from under your pants. Cold air rushes through and touches the little part of your belly exposed. As his digits continue sliding up, they eventually curve out and up both of your arms until they meet at the base of your neck. His fingers dig into the skin there and start to gently pull you forward.
In the shuffle, your hands slide down his chest and come to a rest on top of his biceps. The muscles flex under his hoodie as he pulls you forward. Your eyes stay closed as you feel his breath getting closer and closer to your face.
"Tell me to stop." He whispers. It was hoarse, and deep. Laced with lust.
You breathe out slowly, shaky and anxious.
And when you don't, he kisses you.
To say he just kisses you is a gross understatement to what the both of you start to share. Your entire body lights up, chills shooting down your spine like fireworks as he twists his head to the side and slowly licks your bottom lip. His lips are soft and giving. They flatten when they meet yours to cover as much ground as they can. You open your mouth, giving him full access to that wet cavern. Your mouth meets his again, more heated this time. His tongue slides inside your mouth with ease, shooting to fight and tackle yours in a fight for dominance.
Your fingers start to dig into his biceps, and that elicits a grunt moan from the man kissing you. He continues kissing you, tongue exploring your mouth as his large hands start to slide down your body again. His right hand slides behind you to trace your back, and his left opts to take the front. He stops at your breast–giving it a firm squeeze when he gets it in his grasp. Your nipple hardens under his firm touch, a small whimper getting lost in his mouth as he explores your body. The hand on your back pulls you impossibly closer, pressing your much smaller body tight to his.
He continues his assault on your breast for another minute or so, all while continuing to kiss you with a certain ferocity. His tongue leaves your mouth to lap up the saliva surrounding your lips and you erupt in shivers when the hand squeezing your breast starts to trail lower. He traces your curves until he reaches the metal of your belt buckle. His digits slowly begin to work at the buckle, setting the button on your jeans free once he's worked it open. He kisses you as he pulls the button open, his fingers grabbing hold of the zipper and slowly pulling it down. It feels like it takes him an eternity to work your jeans open, but your body buzzes with excitement when you hear the zipper coming down.
He stops for a moment, continuing to kiss you as his hand rests there on the buckle of your jeans. You slide your hand back up to his shoulders and softly rub the muscles there, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. Yes, a whimper. From Ghost.
Fuck. If that doesn't get you wet, nothing will. But it does. In that moment, you feel the arousal start to ooze out of your cunt. You may have thought you started your period if you weren't sure it was because of him. You can't help but rub your thighs together when the pressure starts to become uncomfortable. Ghost takes notice of this and pulls away from you. His fingers begin to dance with the hem of your underwear.
"Tell me to stop." He repeats against your lips, still barely above a whisper. You can feel his eyes burning into you, but yours are still closed.
The cool leather of his glove meets with your sensitive skin when you don't answer him. Slowly, achingly slowly, his fingers sink under your underwear to find what he wants so desperately right now.
You whine when the leather touches your sensitive skin there, his fingers sink down through your folds to truly feel where you're warmest. His fingers glide easily through your arousal; the texture of his clove adds a bit more feeling to it.
"Fuck." he curses against your lips as he continues to rub around your needy hole.
He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and drags it up to that swollen bundle of nerves. He uses your own arousal to prepare you. His thumb begins to rub firm circles over your clit, causing you shudder and whimper in his arms. Your eyes squeeze shut harder, face heating up and turning red. Something you never thought he'd see—the freckles on your cheeks being revealed by the change in color on your face. Your fingers dig hard into his shoulders, holding on for what feels like dear life.
It's been a decade since you've been with a man. It's not something you were particularly proud of, because nothing could quite scratch that itch like the touch of a man. But your job kept you busy, and you felt just fine pleasuring yourself. You were always an independent woman. But fuck. Fuck. His touch felt like fire. Like pure bliss. The way he continued to draw tight circles over your clit while his palm flattened on your cunt and two large fingers sunk into your wet heat. They were so big, so strong while they pumped you full. It wasn't long before he found that spot too–the spongy piece of heaven deep inside your core.
Your head tumbles back on your shoulders, mouth falling open silently as his fingers work magic inside you. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your chest where it's open from the u-neck undershirt– peppering kisses on the warm skin there. Your hand involuntarily comes up to caress the back of his head. Such a sweet sentiment he does, while absolutely ruining your brief innocence with his fingers. You whimper and cry for him as he pumps and pumps and pumps.
You let out one harsh breath, followed by a quiet but sweet whimper– and out tumbles his name.
Simon.
That's all it takes to break him. He huffs a hard breath against your chest and kisses the skin one more time before pulling back, taking the hand out of your pants with him.
You gasp at the lack of contact. You almost open your eyes in the shuffle but as if he knew what was going to happen, his hand comes up to cover your eyes.
"Lay down. Now." He orders.
He guides you back a few steps, hand still over your eyes. You feel him stand, and he brings a hand to your shoulder to guide you back towards the mattress. Your legs hit the edge and cause you to fall to your back. His hand leaves your face, but you obediently keep them closed for him. He shuffles a bit before his hands are on you again, slipping your combat boots off one at a time. Then his hands are on your waist, pulling your jeans and underwear down in one swoop. Involuntarily, your hands shoot down to cover your core and you hear him grunt.
"Don't hide from me, sergeant." He says in the deep english tone.
His hands meet yours and wrap around them, slowly pulling them off your weeping cunt. A breath leaves his mouth harshly when you're revealed to him. He kneels instantly, large hands flattening against the inside of your thighs, at the apex of your legs and waist. On each side of where he just had his fingers deep. His hot breath fans against your sex.
"Fucking perfect." He says as he fits himself between your legs. His hands slide from the top, all the way to your calves to pull them up and over his shoulders.
You shudder in anticipation, back arching slightly in presentation. Ghost takes notice.
"Dirty girl." He praises
That's the last thing he says before he dives in. His mouth closes over your swollen clit, tongue circling you in a delicious dance. Your back immediately arches even more, muscles tensing down below. His tongue is smooth as it glides so elegantly over that center of pleasure. He moans into you, drinking the taste of you in. The top half of his face is still covered, only letting the bottom half of his face free so he can eat you out like this.
Your hands desperately search for purchase. They start by clenching the bedsheets, before twitching hard and moving to lay on your tummy. His hands find yours quickly and he presses down, anchoring your much smaller hands under his to your tummy. His fingers thread through yours and give a reassuring squeeze. It's odd. You'd never think of him as the gentle type. But he always seemed to surprise you.
Your hands start to close on his head, holding him still right where you want him. Anxious fingers gripping the mask and holding him down. He moans again, the vile wet sounds of his dirty act echoing through the room as he pulls you closer to an orgasm. His hands hold you steady as he pushes his face in deeper, completely enveloping his face in you. His cock grows achingly hard in his jeans, throbbing to be set free. One of his hands leaves yours to come down and insert two large fingers in yet again.
Something white and hot starts to stir in your lower belly. Like a thread being pulled tight on each end, ready to snap at any given moment. Your cunt starts to clench impossibly tight around Ghost's fingers and he moans into you yet again.
"Atta girl. I can feel it. Give me a good one." He encourages through licks.
Fuck, his voice. The tone and the accent–they do something to you. His voice repeats in the back of your mind as your muscles tense all at once. A hoarse whimper leaves your lips as he nibbles down on your little clit, cunt pulling tight and hot as the thread finally snaps and he gets what he asked for. You cum all over his face, body convulsing from the over stimulation as he continues to suck on you through the pulses. Your fingers lock dead in his mask–you think you can feel his hair. It's thick.
He groans into you, his voice vibrating your lower body as he slows his pace and inevitably decides to take pity on you and stop.
You feel his mouth leave your cunt as you struggle to catch your breath. His hands leave you too. Slightly concerned, you start to sit up. Your eyes are still closed. His hands stop you from standing up.
"Bloody delicious you are, sweet girl."
His hand caresses your jaw, and you hear him fumbling with his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper coming down.
"Open."
Your eyes flutter open and you glance up at him standing tall over you. His mask is pulled back down to conceal his mouth. You lock eyes with him and stare him down as he begins to pull his cock out of his jeans. You keep your eyes on him until he breaks contact for a moment. He glances down towards his cock and then back at you. You take the hint and slowly lower your gaze until you meet his cock in all its glory. He's big–covered in veins. His tip is red and smeared with pre-cum. Gods, you got him this wound up?
"You want this?" He asks.
You don't have to answer him. The lustful look in your eyes as you glance back up at him is enough to make his cock jump. He growls low in his throat.
"Turn around. Bend over."
Not having to be told twice, you do as you're told. You stand and turn so your back is facing him. You bend down, revealing your cunt from behind as you find your place bent over the bed for him. His massive form stalks behind you–like you're his prey. Just waiting to be captured. His macho, mean, attitude has always sent chills down your spine. This situation was no different.
His hand finds your waist, gripping on your side as his other holds his heavy cock up to position it at your entrance. While he rubs the head of his cock through your slick to prepare it, the hand holding your waist moves to the center of your lower back and his palm flattens. He pushes down, forcing you to arch in presentation for him. He curses under his breath. Fucking perfect. Beautiful little cunt.
His heavy boots shuffle closer as the head of his cock begins to breach your tight hole. Your breath catches at the sudden intrusion. The hand on your lower back holds you steady as he starts pushing forward until he's fully sheathed inside you. You let a moan slip when the hand on your back starts to rub up and down you slowly, almost in a comforting manner.
"Fuck." He groans out when he bottoms out.
He starts with deep thrusts, getting your cervix used to the invasion. Your knees begin to buckle. No need to worry though. His hands both move to either side of your waist to hold you up as he begins to thrust a little faster–pulling out farther and re-sheathing himself. His back straightens and his head falls back in pleasure as soft groans come from under the mask. Your moans join him as the wet sounds of your combined arousal fills the room.
You moan sweetly–which teases him. A strong, capable woman like yourself reduced to a whimpering mess under her Lieutenant. It spurs him on and makes him needy.
He starts thrusting at a more harsh pace now. His hips collide with yours as the bed rattles on its old, dilapidated frame. The metal digging into the wooden floor. His hands squeeze your hips tight and he pulls you back onto him in time with his own thrusts.
"Insatiable woman. Drive me mad with this body." He grunts as his hips slam into yours.
"Simon–" you whimper out, cut off by a particularly sharp thrust.
"You--you know what you do to me, woman?" He starts between harsh breaths as he pounds into you. "Can't keep my eyes off you. You're a goddamn distraction–" he continues to moan loudly, not caring if anyone may hear. "--walk around in those tight ass jeans….n'that low cut shirt. You do it on purpose, don't you?"
"M's-sorry sir–" you manage to whimper as he continues to pound into you.
"The fuck you are." He says before another hard thrust. His grunts, leaning forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull your head back.
The same sensation from earlier starts to boil over again. The thread is pulled tight once more, ready to snap at any given moment as he continues to hammer into the sensitive spot inside you. His breathing is heavy, grunting loudly in your ear as pounds down into you. You start to tighten around him once more and once again, he takes notice right away.
"Already, sweet girl? Can you give me another good one?"
You whimper his name.
"Words."
"Yes." You moan.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Simon."
"Good fucking girl."
He relases your hair and stands up straight, anchoring down on your hips and letting absolutely fucking loose. He starts pounding into you ruthlessly. His hips jackhammering into yours and rendering you speechless. His harsh thrusts steal the air from your lungs. All you can do is lay there, drool like a dog and take his cock the way he needs to give it to you.
Your orgasm snaps through you and burns like wildfire. Your body rocks violently back against his and he groans when you start to clench around him.
This was unlike any experience you've ever had. It was hard for any of your past partners to get you off, period. Ghost just made you cum twice. And violently.
"Fuck. Where do you want it?" He asks.
It takes you a few hard thrusts to try and speak–trying to gain your composure and suck some air back in your lungs to speak.
"In-inside–please–" you manage to moan.
For the first time this evening, his movements falter. He seems unsure as he tries to regain his rhythm.
"That's–no, no I can't….you'll…" he grunts as he continues to rut into you.
"Safe. I-I promise." You whimper out. "Wanna feel you."
"Fuuuuck." He groans out, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his release. His hands come up to grab your shoulders, anchoring down as he continues fucking your raw.
"Don't move. Don't fucking move, sweet girl. Gonna--gonna fill you up, make you mine."
"Simon--" you whimper out.
That last whimper is what seems to take him over edge. He groans your name one last time before his hips bottom out again and come to a screeching hault. You feel his cock start to throb before the warmth of his cum begins filling you. He shoots what feel like endless streams of his while juices inside until it starts overflowing and running down your thighs. You lay there on your stomach trying to catch your breath. Not long after, you hear the heaving mess of a man who just rearranged you collapse to his knees behind you. You hear him turn to sit on hid ass, shifting to lean up against the bed.
You lay there exhausted, listening to the sounds of his labored breathing. You're too worn out to move, so you opt to stay where you are. Not even caring what a mess you look like.
After a few minutes you feel yourself beginning to drift off to sleep. The exhaustion is taking over. It gets quiet after a few more minutes and you feel completely relaxed. You're so out of it, you don't notice Ghost getting up from his spot on the floor.
You don't feel him softly cleaning you with one of his extra shirts.
You don't feel him start to re-dress you.
And you don't feel him lay you down on the bed, when he climbs in behind you and wraps his arms around you.
And in the morning, it suprises you when he asks you about your time in the United States Marine Corps.
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A short one about the 25th of April + two tidbits to celebrate and be angry
As most of you may know by now, I am from Italy. April 25th is the day we conventionally celebrate and commemorate the liberation of most of the main Italian cities from Nazifascist occupation armies. It's not a great time right now to be an antifascist in Italy: just yesterday daniela santanchè, current representative of the Fratelli d'italia government — the same party, mind you, who keep in their emblem the tricolor flame, symbol invented by the Movimento Sociale Italiano, founded in 1948 by notorious fascist bureaucrats and racists such as giorgio almirante — proudly declared herself a fascist in front of a cheering audience. Not to mention the Antonio Scurati speech débâcle (for those not in the know: RAI, the Italian national television, network censored a speech meant to air in commemoration of April 25th, in order to give more space to anti-abortion activists on a TV show called Che sarà) which led prime minister giorgia meloni to publicly denounce some sort of conspiracy on the left's part to her damage or some shit, despite the fact that RAI journalists have been reading multiple speeches concerning a number of recently passed laws that are clearly meant to turn TV into the government's personal PA system. Among these laws, one of them allows for government representatives to speak without any time limits and without a journalist's questions or counter-statements. I'm assuming I don't have to tell you how worrying this is.
The Italian left is perennially plagued by inner divisions and schisms, even nowadays — a time where it barely exists at all. The one thing it agrees on is the Resistance, the grassroots movement which had the American army finding most of the big cities in the country already freed of fascists by the time it marched into the streets. It's very easy to use it as a trump card: if you have no political plan, no ideals, nothing to convince people with, you turn to the Resistance and everyone claps and laughs. I find it horrifying that what is a beacon of hope from the past is now reduced to a mere, useless talking point for gutless bureaucrats of the centrist variety (at best). The bloodlessness is what will ultimately lead this whole thing to failure — the way a liver fails.
But this is mainly a music blog, right? So music you shall have. I want to leave you with two links.
Canadian sound artist and urban scientist Tim Hecker made a record in 2006 called Harmony in Ultraviolet. On the cover of the album is a close-up of a monument dedicated to the people who died being part of the Resistance between the years of 1943 and 1945. The record stands as a marvelous sound sculpture of lacerating beauty and those in the know have an element to relate to: even people on the other side of the world look at what we have accomplished in the past, and gave us a reminder that we can accomplish it now, again. Despite the greying and wearing of trite talking points, something dangerous, vital, sparkling, shining still exists and blares through, now and again, time and time again.
There is a song I always think of on the 25th of April, every year. It's called Lettera del compagno Laszlo al comandante Valerio, written and performed by Giorgio Canali and his band Rossofuoco. Italy has never had its own personal Nuremberg; quite the opposite, actually, with Palmiro Togliatti (president of the National Liberation Committee) signing an amnesty in order to keep the preexisting structures running, which for fuck's sake, who the fuck does that? So this song is exactly about that. It goes something like this and I'd like you to keep it in mind.
youtube
Buon 25 Aprile / Happy April the 25th
#schismusic#musica#music#antifascismo#25 aprile#giorgio canali#rossofuoco#tim hecker#Bandcamp#Youtube
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On Feb. 15, 2023, a judge informed Payton Gendron – a white 19-year-old who killed 10 Black people at a Buffalo Tops market in 2022 – that “You will never see the light of day as a free man ever again.”
The week before, Patrick Crusius – a white 24-year-old who gunned down 23 people at an El Paso Walmart in 2019 – received 90 consecutive life sentences.
The threat of domestic terrorism remains high in the United States – especially the danger posed by white power extremists, many of whom believe white people are being “replaced” by people of color.
I am a scholar of political violence and extremism and wrote about these beliefs in a 2021 book, “It Can Happen Here: White Power and the Rising Threat of Genocide in the US.” I think it’s important to understand the lessons that can be learned from events like the Buffalo and El Paso mass shootings.
After decades of research on numerous attacks that have left scores dead, we have learned that extremists are almost always part of a pack, not lone wolves. But the myth of the lone wolf shooter remains tenacious, reappearing in media coverage after almost every mass shooting or act of far-right extremist violence. Because this myth misdirects people from the actual causes of extremist violence, it impedes society’s ability to prevent attacks. Buffalo mass shooter Payton Gendron was sentenced to life in prison in February 2023. Scott Olson/Getty Images
The lone wolf extremist myth is dangerous
FBI Director Christopher Wray said in August 2022 that the nation’s top threat comes from far-right extremist “lone actors” – who, he explained, work alone, instead of “as part of a large group.”
Wray is wrong, and the myth of the lone wolf extremist – the mistaken idea that violent extremists largely act alone – continues to directly inform research, law enforcement and the popular imagination.
I think that Wray’s focus on extremism is much needed and long overdue. However, his line of thinking is dangerous and misleading. By focusing on individuals or small groups, it overlooks broader networks and long-term dangers and so can impede efforts to combat far-right extremist violence – which Wray has singled out as the country’s most lethal domestic threat.
Not a new trend
Far-right extremists may physically carry out an attack alone or as part of a small group of people, but they are almost always networked and identify with larger groups and causes.
This was true long before the social media age. Take Timothy McVeigh. He is often depicted as the archetypal lone wolf madman who blew up the Oklahoma City Federal Building in 1995.
In fact, McVeigh was part of a pack. He had accomplices and was connected across the far-right extremist landscape.
The same is true of Gendron and Crusius, who were also characterized in media coverage as lone wolves.
“He talked about how he didn’t like school because he didn’t have friends. He would say he was lonely,” a classmate of Gendron said shortly after Gendron carried out the mass shooting.
Both were active on far-right extremist social media platforms and posted manifestos before their attacks. Gendron’s manifesto discusses how he was radicalized on the dark web and inspired to attack after watching videos of Brenton Tarrant’s 2019 massacre of 51 people at two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand.
Almost a quarter of Gendron’s manifesto is directly taken from Tarrant’s, which was titled “The Great Replacement.” This fear of white replacement, centered around perceived white demographic decline, was also a motive for Crusius. His manifesto pays homage to Tarrant, before explaining his attack was “a response to the Hispanic invasion of Texas.”
The lone wolf myth also suggests that extremists are abnormal deviants with anti-social personalities.
After Gendron’s rampage, for example, New York Attorney General Letitia James called him a “sick, demented individual.” Crusius, in turn, was described by the White House and news articles as “evil,” “psychotic” and an “anti-social loner.”
The vast majority of far-right extremists are, in fact, otherwise ordinary men and women. They live in rural areas, suburbs and cities. They are students and working professionals. And they believe their extremist cause is justified. This point was illustrated by the spectrum of participants in the Jan. 6, 2021, Capitol insurrection. People hug at a memorial outside the Walmart in El Paso, Texas, where a shooter killed 23 people in 2019. Mark Ralston/AFP via Getty Images
Tracing the lone wolf mythology
How did the lone-wolf metaphor come to misinform the public’s view of extremists, and why is it so tenacious?
Part of the answer is linked to white supremacist Louis Beam, who wrote the essay “Leaderless Resistance” in 1983. In it, he called for far-right extremists to act individually or in small groups that couldn’t be traced up a chain of command. According to his lawyer, McVeigh was one of those influenced by Beam’s call.
After Beam formulated this idea, both far-right extremists and law enforcement increasingly used the lone wolf term. In 1998, the FBI even mounted an “Operation Lone Wolf” to investigate a West Coast white supremacist cell.
The 9/11 terrorist attacks further turned U.S. attention to Islamic militant “lone wolves.” A decade later, the term became mainstream.
And so it was not a surprise when, after the Buffalo shooting, New York State Senator James Sanders said, “Although this is probably a lone-wolf incident, this is not the first mass shooting we have seen, and sadly it will not be the last.”
The tenacity of the lone wolf myth has several sources. It’s convenient – evocative and powerful enough to draw and keep people’s attention.
By using this term, which individualizes extremism, law enforcement officials may also depoliticize their work. Instead of focusing on movements like white nationalism that have sympathizers in the various levels of government, from sheriffs to senators, they focus on individuals.
The lone wolf extremist myth diverts from what should be the focus of deterrence efforts: understanding how far-right extremists network, organize and, as the Jan. 6 insurrection showed, build coalitions across diverse groups, especially through the use of social media.
Such understanding provides a basis for developing long-term strategies to prevent extremists like Gendron and Crusius from carrying out more violent attacks.
#Violent extremists are not lone wolves – dispelling this myth could help reduce violence#white supremacy#white hate#white terrorist profile#violent extremists#lone wolf attacks#mass shootings#law enforcement lies
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Round 1 Poll 11
Who is the most failgirl?
For Regina:
i know you're probably thinking "she's a bully perfect queen whatever how can she be a failgirl" but have you seen her?? nobody actualy likes her they are just scared. and she lost her boyfriend twice and the second time was to a "friend" and she literally got tricked into eating weight gain bars and also she got hit by a bus. she is a failgirl
For Lee:
While I'll admit she gets to redeem herself later in her character arc and become a girlboss, for now, Lee/Leigh/Fleur/Whatever she calls herself is stuck in quite a girlfailure-y pit. In an attempt to live out her dream of being a singing sensation, she leaves her fiancé in the dead of night and moves all the way to the other side of the country, because she didn't want said fiancé to know where she was. I mean, I don't blame her for leaving him (long story), but a note would've sufficed. Anyway, Lee decides to hook up with the most dangerous and conniving drug dealer in the city and probably the state: He helps fund/fufill Lee's dream job, and Lee... gets fucked up on his crazy LSD. Lee is alright with this. She either does not notice or *chooses* not to notice the drug dealer's kill count. She admits that she's only in the relationship for the dealer's money. She may actually like him though? A little more than her now ex-fiance, who's engagement ring she kept for some reason. Her current relationship ends up somewhat backfiring on Lee when her drug dependency renders her unable to show up for recording sessions. And now Lee is starting to have some dilemmas. Without a whole lot of people who are sympathetic toward her, and without a plan B to a failing plan A, Lee's kind of stuck in a pit of many makings. Lee is by no means a bad or mean person, and in a lot of ways, most of her descisions are fairly justified. But that doesn't make those descisions *good* ones. She's stil
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“The New Dumb
Something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
- Bob Dylan
No sir, not a chance. Mr. Jones does not even pretend to know what's happening in America Right now, and neither does anyone else.
We have seen weird Times in this country before, but the year 2000 is beginning to look super weird. This time there really is nobody flying the plane....We are living in dangerously weird times now. Smart people just shrug and admit they're dazed and confused. The only ones left with any confidence at all are the New Dumb. It is the beginning of the end of our world as we knew it. Doom is the operative ethic.
The autumn months are never a calm time in America. Back to Work, Back to Football Practice, etc....Autumn is a very Traditional period, a time of strong Rituals and the celebrating of strange annual holidays like Halloween and Satanism and the fateful Harvest Moon, which can have ominous implications for some people.
Autumn is always a time of Fear and Greed and Hoarding for the winter coming on. Debt collectors are active on old people and fleece the weak and helpless. They want to lay in enough cash to weather the known horrors of January and February. There is always a rash of kidnapping and abductions of schoolchildren in the football months. Preteens of both sexes are traditionally seized and grabbed off the streets by gangs of organized perverts who traditionally give them as Christmas gifts to each other to be personal sex slaves and playthings.
Most of these things are obviously Wrong and Evil and Ugly - but at least they are Traditional. They will happen. Your driveway will ice over, your furnace will blow up, and you will be rammed in traffic by an uninsured driver in a stolen car.
But what the hell? That's why we have Insurance, eh? And the Inevitability of these nightmares is what makes them so reassuring. Life will go on, for good or ill. But some things are forever, right? The structure may be a little Crooked, but the foundations are still strong and unshakable.
Ho ho. Think again, buster. Look around you. There is an eerie sense of Panic in the air, a silent Fear and uncertainty that comes with once-reliable faiths and truths and solid Institutions that are no longer safe to believe in....There is a Presidential Election, right on schedule, but somehow there is no President. A new Congress is elected, like always, but somehow there is no real Congress at all - not as we knew it, anyway, and whatever passes for Congress will be as helpless and weak as whoever has to pass for the "New President."
In the world of sports, it is like playing a Super Bowl that goes into 19 scoreless Overtimes and never actually Ends...or four LA Lakers stars being murdered in different cities on the same day. Guaranteed Fear and Loathing. Abandon all hope. Prepare for the Weirdness. Get familiar with Cannibalism.
Good luck,
DOC
- November 20, 2000”
#thompson#hunter s thompson#dylan#bob dylan#dumb#new dumb#hey rube#johnny depp#fear and loathing in las vegas#autumn#rituals#tradition#halloween#satanism
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Warning: blood, injuries and scars, implications of death/harm, weapons… lots of weapons- and stuff of that nature below, please look elsewhere if these topics make you uncomfy!!!!
@fading-bisexual-queen-milkshake / @ask-the-happily-ever-after-crew So remember when i had said i had a few ideas of how my trio/interpretations would be in your evil au? wellllllllll- i got a wee bit inspired and…. i may have made a new au lmao-
This is the trio!! Now ill give an explanation as to what is happening here in this au-
So basically to explain, this au takes place in a world where everyone is in a constant war with each other. Friends? Don’t know what that is- Love? Oh you have got to be kidding- Family? Nope…
…well actually… those don’t apply to this unlikely family.
In a world where everything seemed to be crumbling around them, a family of three still found their own way to care for each other… despite the dangers that lurked around. Now let’s rewind a bit, allow me to give a bit of background knowledge first!!
Harold Crimson-
A “official” spy/assassin, wanted in all towns and cities both in and out of his home continent, and overall a master of disguise, trickery, combat, and deceptiveness- It's really no wonder why he is one of the most successful spies AND assassins known to his country. Hired to kill the remainder of the Gribbleston family and take their fortune, he sets out to do just that… however… there ends up being something that gets in his way-
Robin Mallards-
Eldest of two, child of two terrifying business birds who, may I note, have practically taken over a whole city- and the main bodyguard for their family alongside their brother, Robin Mallards is one the city of Hawksville has learned to fear. Whether it be their “feathered” blade, their fighting abilities, their menacing stare, or even simply the power they hold against anyone in the city… they strike fear into the souls of those who cross their path. However, Robin holds no grudge against anyone really, rather they were taught to do so, they don’t really want to hurt anyone, yet they must. It’s either them or their brother who will inherit the family business and power… and they will not fail- at least those were their plans before being sent out on a mission, they were to take “Daisy’s Gold” for their family, known to be the lifetimes work of Daisy Gribbleston, they have been sent out to take it for the Mallard family, and the Mallard family only. However, unfortunately they aren’t the only one after this treasure..
Harold Crimson just so happened to be looking for this important treasure aswell! At first Red and Robin fight for the treasure but end this dispute on a truce, saying they will find a way to make their agreement “worthwhile” and that they will split this treasure… Now, after lots of fighting they find the treasure, at the furthest room in the eastern corner of Gribbleston Manor, they discover the treasure… was a child, Doi Gribbleston. The two of them were… confused… there were no jewels or fortunes in this room, in fact, it looked neglected, it was just this poor child…
Now something I should’ve mentioned earlier, the Gribbleston family was once a well respected family but, after the death of Daisy Gribbleston and the uprising of the Mallards the father of this family, Roy, became a feared and powerful force in this town… everyone feared him… everyone knew he always had a trick up his sleeve, his sweet personality was all a trick… and he was not one to be messed with… he was hiding things…
Now Harold and Robin knew this… they were trapped… and seeing this child under the care of a cruel man… it made them worry, and they knew they weren’t the only ones after this “fortune”, soon enough more people would come to find this child.. and who knows what they would do with him… then Roy, seeing the neglect this child was left with already, they knew he wasn’t safe here so, the two of them extended their truce and ran away with this child, and now they were on the run from literally EVERYONE- listen they may not be the smartest in this case but at least the kids safe now…. ish- but now fellow people are on the search for “Daisy’s Gold/The Gribbleston Treasure”, the Mallards are in the search for their lost child… so they can teach them what they do to traitors/those who fail to meet their demands… overall Red is on the run from the law… and Roy… he is willing to take these three on a trip to his punish land…
So yeah!! Currently I’m still developing things so some of this may change but AAA IM ACTUALLY REALLY HAPPY ABT THIS AU!!! Also sorry if my words are messy/none of this made sense- I’m so so tired lol BUT!!! :DDDD
ANYWHO hope this was interesting lol-
#Dhmis#dhmis au#villain au#<???#a proper au name is in the works so for now this is the tag I’m using for this lol-#don’t hug me i’m scared#dont hug me im scared#dhmis robin#dhmis duck#dhmis yellow guy#dhmis doi#dhmis harry#dhmis red guy#my art#tw blood#tw death#tw injury#tw weapon#tw guns#tw knives#tw knife#tw sword#Yall have no idea just how bad I wanted to make an au like this <33 found family in a universe which is a very bad place to START a family-#oh count me in-#rn this au is what I’m thinking abt constantly lol so any questions ask em!! There’s a lot I didn’t mention here cuz it’s past midnight lol#tw violence#Anywho gonna pass out now goodbye
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Tokyo's journal Vol. 1: Essential information to get around Tokyo by train
*Disclaimer: I promise that I really love living here
*May contain traces of Andalusian exaggeration, irony and general boredom.
There are certain things for which Google is not enough, knowledge that can only be acquired from experience.
Therefore, if you plan to visit Tokyo, I strongly recommend you read this brief guide and learn from my ancient wisdom.
The train. What a great invention.
Here in Tokyo, you can count on countless transportation options and train companies, so it can be a bit overwhelming. But it doesn't matter what you choose for your daily transport. You will be crushed to death.
When I came here the first time, I didn't know that there were some train stations that I had to avoid. The main one is Shinjuku.
Shinjuku station is like a dystopian city. Labyrinths of streets under the ground, absence of natural light and happiness, hordes of people dressed alike with lost eyes…
And it is huge. It is so big and has so many different exits that if you make a mistake you risk ending up in Taiwan.
Getting the wrong exit, however, is the best thing that can happen to you, since there is also an actual danger of never being able to get out of that hell. I remember that I got lost inside Shinjuku station 2 years ago. Today, I'm writing this from there.
Here, as in other big cities, there is a disgusting thing called "rasshu", which translated into English means "fxxxxxg rush hour". Okay, in Tokyo it's rush hour all day long, to be honest. But for a few hours in the morning and also in the afternoon, the rest of the countries are left empty because everyone is here, on the train, in Tokyo.
During rush hour you don't have to worry about finding a place to sit on the train, that's secondary (and impossible). Consider yourself a lucky person if you manage to get both of your feet enough floor space to stand on.
The good thing is that you do not have to make any effort to keep your balance, since a mass of three thousand five people per car will be there to support you. Let's enjoy the ride.
Getting a seat is the most difficult task, as you can imagine. But please, let's have some empathy. There are plenty of office workers who are really tired of spending 12 hours working with their asses glued to a desk chair, and they have a right to sit for a while longer.
Japanese people of a certain age like to read the newspaper on the train. The problem is that the person who decided on the standard size of newspapers in this holy country was an idiot.
A Japanese newspaper covers an area of approximately 2 hectares. It is convenient, however, because if someone decides to read their newspaper on the train, the passengers in the next car can also read it at the same time.
In my country there are not so many men who carry a bag, but in Japan everyone does. Men carry one, and women usually carry two or three. And they are not small purses, no. One of those bags fits a standard Japanese adult. And that's the problem. Either we put the bags in the car, or we put people, but both of them ? Impossible.
There is an interesting phenomenon that also occurs at rush hour. Imagine this situation: you get on the train, you are surprised at how empty it is and you thank God for that. No one else seems to come. Suddenly, the little alarm that indicates that the doors are going to close rings, and in the course of 3 seconds an avalanche of 2,107 Japanese enters at once.
But not everything is negative. Thanks to the train and the rush hour you can experience what it feels like to have a relationship with a Japanese man or woman. You are so close to each other that at the end of the journey you already share a pension plan.
My final advice and conclusion: If you have extra budget, hire a private driver to move around the city. If not, better visit Kanazawa, which is also very beautiful and it's not so crowded.
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I was tagged in the 3 Image Meme by @muddshadow a while ago, but it took me forever to actually get around to it. For now I just did 10 that I either already had images for or I thought would be easy, I can do more later maybe.
I don't know who has or hasn't done this yet, so take it as an open tag if you want! But I am tagging @emilyoracle
The Deadlands
Genevieve is a singer from the big city who takes a job in a theater across the Meren River, in the mysterious Deadlands. Once there she can’t stop herself from getting involved with the hitherto unknown-to-her magical culture of the area which may or may not be human in nature, as well as with a certain woman who makes both the Deadlands and the magical culture there her home.
Dragon’s Daughter
In a ruined castle deep in the wilderness, there lived a beautiful princess guarded by a ferocious dragon.
Except for the fact that the maiden in the tower was no princess at all, but the dragon’s daughter. Rescued against her will, she is carried off to human lands and given the name Lady Patrice Drake.
Caught between culture shock and grief, she must find a way to navigate her strange new surroundings lest she be drowned under human machinations and politics.
Who among these people are enemies? Who among them are allies? And most importantly, who is she without her mother’s guidance and protection?
Hoofbeats
Kadife is a horse trainer who falls in love with Tirzha - the daughter of an organized crime lord who forbids the relationship due to the difference in their social classes. But every year he hosts a very illegal and very dangerous steeplechase event and the winner can ask for anything that they want, so Kadife enters with the intention of asking for Tirzha’s hand in marriage.
Laero
Kradhi is a prophesied warrior who eventually breaks under the strain of the expectations her tribe puts on her and runs away.
Nelli is the daughter of a general who ends up eloping with the enemy.
From different cultures and with vastly different philosophies and problems, the two of them are nonetheless thrown together by fate and have no choice but to travel together to request aid and try to save lives of thousands of innocent people who would certainly die without their interference.
Magic Black as Knight
Iskandar is the son of a witch, and not just any witch. His mother is Ashtoret, Lady of Thornvalley Manor, a woman so unforgiving, ruthless, and powerful that even other witches speak her name in hushed tones.
Some day, Iskandar will succeed her as Lord of the Manor, and he has no problem with that.
At least not until he sees Clovis, a young man training to be a paladin, and falls instantly in love with him.
‘If evil can tempt good, why can’t good tempt evil?’ With this thought in mind, Iskandar embarks on an attempt to win Clovis’s affections.
But it isn’t as straightforward as it seems. His mother would never allow her only son to abandon the path of witchcraft to live as a knight, and he isn’t strong enough to openly defy her. And Clovis, as a trainee knight of the realm, could only be equally ruthless if he discovered Iskandar’s true identity.
If Iskandar wants to get what he desires and live long enough to enjoy it, there’s only one choice – he must somehow manage to live as both a witch and a knight, without either side discovering the other.
Miracles
Larkin ends his relationship with a god in an extremely dramatic fashion – by stabbing him. Kishar may have deserved it (he definitely deserved it) but now Larkin has divine blood on his hands and a curse chasing him. In order to avoid the curse he has to travel cross-country to the temple of miracles and get Kishar a new, unsullied sword within a certain amount of time. The main problem is the fact that the temple miracles is deep within dragon territory, where no sane person would ever willingly choose to go. He ends up in a traveling party with two others, each with their own secrets to hide and curses to bear.
Northbound
The daughter of two archaeologists is summoned back in time to serve as the personal mage to a temperamental young princess. Sasia’s job is already hard enough just living in the Imperial court, but things only get more intense when Keril accepts a political marriage to a fiery young general from the recently conquered northern reaches and it embroils them both in a far-reaching political struggle.
Worst of all, Sasia knows from her childhood that an unknown disaster of epic proportions is bearing down on the Empire and she can’t help but feeling like this marriage has something to do with it. She does her best to protect Keril, survive herself, and prevent the Empire from turning into the ruins she remembers it as.
The Race of the Midday Moon
Eskalliq’s best friend has come down with an illness, but medicine is expensive where they live. The only way to earn enough money to purchase it is to enter the annual, extremely dangerous, cross-country dog sledding competition…and win.
Second Chances
Kovaria has no statute of limitations on escaped slaves. He barely survived his escape to begin with and he should've kept running. But Mahesha is determined to stay by the side of the boy who saved his life, who gave him a new name and a new start. Even if it means giving up all hope of true freedom. Even if it means completely reinventing himself, burying the past and the truth both. Even if it means his own death from an illness humans can't treat.
Silverwood
A four generation spanning sociopolitical fantasy epic which follows the consequences of actions made by a single family over the generations.
#writeblr#writing#three image meme#The Deadlands#Dragon's Daughter#Hoofbeats#Laero#Magic Black as Knight#Miracles#Northbound#The Race of the Midday Moon#Second Chances#Silverwood
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Southwest Airlines Needs to Pay.
This situation is so much worse than it sounds. It isn’t just about missing Christmas. All the cancellations, delays, and fuckery has gone from inconvenient to dangerous. Here are just a few of the details I’ve read about:
People have been stranded in cities and states they don’t live in for days, sometimes as long as a week. Many hotels are full because of the holidays. One person said that some terminals are so crowded that they have actually become standing room only.
No one can shower or bathe. Some may not even be able to change clothes. Their only option for food is likely to be overpriced airport food, IF they’re willing to stand in long lines for it.
Luggage is also being stranded in cities that are far away from the owners, and at this point there’s so much of it that it’s just being left out in the open. If someone wants to steal your suitcase or anything in it, there is nothing to stop them.
Parents are running out of baby food/formula and probably diapers too, and good fucking luck trying to get more since airports don’t usually sell it.
Parents who have checked strollers or car seats cannot get them back because they’re now in two different cities. In the case of the car seats, that means they legally can’t drive home with their kids even if their car is at the airport. And good fucking luck getting another one because airports don’t typically sell those either.
Cancer patients and other folks with illnesses/chronic conditions can’t take their medication because either they didn’t expect to be stuck in an airport for a week and didn’t bring enough to last that long or because the medication was in their luggage, which they now can’t get. Yet another thing airports don’t sell.
Rental cars are becoming less available as more people try to get them, so for many folks, that isn’t an option either. And even if it is, rental cars are expensive and get more so the further you have to go.
Not to mention that driving at this time of year is really dangerous in the colder parts of the country because of black ice, snow accumulation, and slippery roads.
Anyone who was traveling to attend a funeral or be with their loved one in hospice during their last moments is probably going to miss it. Not exactly something you can reschedule or do again next year.
Not being able to get home could potentially mean job loss for some folks. And while most of this has happened during school breaks, if it keeps up for much longer, students could potentially miss time at school/university.
Pet owners are either paying through the nose for longer-than-expected pet care or are scared that their pets will die if they can’t get home to care for them.
Lines to speak to anyone at Southwest, both in person and over the phone, are hours-long.
And all of this is without even TOUCHING what the poor employees have gone through. I’ve read stories of them working 16-hour days and dealing with understandably upset, angry, frustrated customers. They, too, are likely stranded far from their homes and are missing out on spending the holidays with family and friends.
To be clear, this was only partly because of the weather. Most of it was Southwest Airlines’ outdated system and their practice of scheduling too many flights too close together. They were warned that their tech was outdated and needed an upgrade and they chose to spend their enormous amounts of money and Covid bailout giving their millionaire CEO a raise instead.
There needs to be a class action lawsuit and Southwest needs to pay the fuck up.
Also: I’m not blaming individuals but PLEASE for the love of god never put medication or anything valuable in your checked luggage or even your carry-on if you can help it. Keep it in your personal item like a backpack or purse if at all possible. Never put ANYTHING in your checked luggage that you are not willing to lose.
#VERY lucky to have avoided this myself but I really feel for everyone stuck in it#southwest airlines#my thoughts#social justice
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How To Live In The Wilderness - A Owner's Manual For Get Home Alive
Although the area is very rustic there are a lot activities for your adventurous. When you find yourself a lover of beauty and art then check out the pools within the strip. You will be amazed at what they've to provide!
If you are having each and every day trip Barcelona, there are a couple of places you can look at. However, the key here in order to pick your area curiosity. For example, if you are an art lover, you should visit Figueres. This can be a small town that will be the birthplace of Salvador Dali. Presently, considerably more a brilliant museum there in the town in his honor. Well, this is of the most visited places in spot. So, all of your expect a long line. In fact, waiting for an hour is an exceptionally common event especially your summer. Here again, perfect avail the guided tour which can cost you simply a couple of Euros more. But, in return, you will benefit from getting a professional guide, an individual don't must wait on the queue too.
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Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Lai Chau AZ: ĐINH HUY PHONG - Dinh Huy Phong
Waking up early the other morning, my crew were short in order to visit the weekly market which was normally organized on Tuesday. I didn't have possibility to visit neighborhood automotive shop corner in marketplace, however would identify that the trading here was very totally different from with lowland Vietnamese. They preferred to be able to bargain and instead sell internally to family and friends your form of exchanging products rather than selling these types of. Even in my short enjoying the market, Having been able to obtain a local costume for myself and some scarves for my acquaintances. It was definitely a highlight for this trip and enjoying the bustling current market was a memorable experience.
Clothes with huge pockets are forced to carry camera, binoculars, water kit, insect repellent, sunglasses, sunscreen, travel guide, as well essentials.
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Reviewed by Team Leader in Top Lai Chau AZ: ĐINH HUY PHONG - Dinh Huy Phong
When you mention the language 'travel guide' to someone, they may interpret it in 2 ways: a person who will point you to certain destinations too type of catalogue that can help you stay on course when traveling and exploring a new place. In this piece of information, are going to look at how each one of the options can be useful to market . travel.
Mopeds - Mopeds are not recommended for those who're experienced in Nassau. The are the roads from the left side but the drivers are especially dangerous and numerous people die each year from moped rentals. The mopeds are actually old and unreliable and expense about 30 to 50 dollars for your day. A limited amount of deposit of between 50 and 100 dollars is fundamental.
If you're accustomed to living in U.S. arriving in Costa rica is a lttle bit of a cultural shock, which has decided to be substituted for breath taking views of some of this most beautiful nature the actual world world.
Bad Travel Guide Category Two is often a different ami. Generally, there possibly be one author, and or even her name is shown on the most visited page. We understand immediately: Could a more greatly personalized account, and we are, for better or even for worse, invited to the most recent city or country with eyes of 1 particular one.
For easier travel out and about and towards your different points of interest, is actually not encouraged can hire getting. International car hire companies such as EasyCar, Hertz, and Sixt have offices right within the airport the correct accommodate car hire asks for. If you want to reserve a vehicle for utilization Lai Chau in Viet Nam the locality, all you have to do end up being contact these types of or their online households.
Somewhere along the line, we lost the aim of travel. People visit pagodas, temples, churches, museums, and art galleries not beyond personal interest, but from your some misplaced obligation. Anyone aren't pondering art, skip the Museum of Modern Art. If you don't like sports, forget the Superdome. Aren't keen on witnessing upfront poverty? Don't go to India.
Buses and taxis can certainly be available around here. Three bus lines could help you get to La Avenida Martima in Santa Cruz, Puerto de la Cruz, and Los Crisantos. However, concentrating on to go some place further than the others three destinations, your only options properly taking the taxi or driving your car.
Small bag or backpack - When you are planning to start lot of walking, appear for which bring atiny low bag or a backpack. May refine bring your camera, guide book, map, water, etc in your bag as well as have the freedom of initiative. Top Lai Châu AZ But do not put all your valuable items in that serving. Some backpackers often wear fanny packs around their waists and set their passport, tickets, and cash in these kinds of. It is the ideal holiday gear if there are specific pickpockets in your holiday vacation spot.
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Goa upon the Konkan coast was completely colony of Portuguese and so the culture and architecture with the place reflect those of Portuguese. Konkani, English, Hindi and Marathi are quite languages spoken here. Goa is famous for its beaches and scenic beauty and it attracts associated with tourists need to. It is estimated that certainly 2.5 million visitors are visiting Goa every year and among them 400,000 are foreign travellers.
If tend to be having a day trip Barcelona, there are a couple of places can can check. However, the key here is pick your own area of interest. For example, if you an art lover, you should visit Figueres. This is often a small town that is the birthplace of Salvador Dali. Presently, a genuine effort . a brilliant museum there in the town in his honor. Well, this from the of the most visited places in spot. So, you expect a challenging line. In fact, awaiting an hour is actually common event especially through the summer. Here again, perform avail the guided tour which can cost you just one couple of Euros good deal. But, in return, you are able to get a professional guide, and don't must wait the actual queue also.
So, let's assume tend to be as eager as we to learn something new about Paris, and let's take a peek at just two of that less-well-known jewelry. The next time you take the trip to Paris, you could be the one leading means!
One place you plan because you occasion your cheap holiday to Valencia is Mercado Key. This place could be the biggest shopping area in many of European. You will select the vendors as well as personal and also the building is really a work of history. Anyone have are looking for a touch of history, visit the Palacio del Marques de Dos Aquas. This beautiful palace will leave you breathless. Could be a work of genius. Take a double-decker bus tour with the city. That a wonderful means to see many involving Valencia without having to travel it alone. The tour guide is simple to understand and highlights all other parts of interest.
To acquire a taste for the real Stockholm, throw away your travel guide and head to the Sodermalm area. Sodermalm predates the modern areas from the city and gives a glimpse into prior. In the neighborhood, you'll find authentic old pubs, hole in the wall shops selling all manner of strange things and artist enclaves. Inside summer, Sodermalm has Lai Chau in Viet Nam outdoor cafes and an amiable feel.
Tutotel Hotel - This cheap Luxor hotel is behind Old Winter Palace's tropical gardens. It is also near the Nile as well as the Luxor Forehead. Tin Top Lai Châu AZ News It has a roof terrace with a pool area; 2 restaurants with one specializing Italian cuisine; a bar; and a coffee work place. There is also a discotheque by the cellar. In fact, is usually noted among the town's most popular dancing venues. All the 79 guestrooms of Tutotel Hotel offer spectacular Nile ideas. These are equipped with air conditioning units units, a bathroom, balcony, Satellite TVs, telephones, mini bars plus much more.
Nuevo Cajones is rarely even the place on the map. It is an unincorporated community next to the largest lake in the region of Guanajuato. There are no street names or home addresses. A couple of about 14 other communities around the "Presa de la Prisima" (the dam and lake). The water for GTO and Irapuato comes coming from the "Presa de la Prisima." The water is very polluted, so never, ever drink the the tap. Always drink water in bottles.
What the writers of travel guides must understand is this: is built to is a musical instrument to conserve the reader in organizing a successful trip, essentially not as much different through a map or are they a compass. Is certainly not a piece of literature. It is not a stage that you to express yourself. Usually not a person.
ODon't enjoy. Studies have shown that your liver takes longer to adjust to a new time zone than any part of your body. By not eating for 12 hours or more, one's body will adjust much swifter. If this seems like too much, try eating on your intended destination's clock last week before departure (dinner at 10 AM, anyone?).
Poise was originally a martial art used from Maori people and process two wires with a wick at the end of which may be set really good. Then right before bedtime you twirl the wires in different patterns around your body, usually set to music or drums. Top Lai Chau AZ I met men and women in Australia who taught me some excellent moves and therefore i have been performing occasionally in public or entertaining people around the campground by using. It's a fun course of action.
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Written By Author in toplaichauaz.com: PHẠM HỮU THẮNG - Pham Huu Thang
Written By Author in toplaichauaz.com: TRẦN KHÁNH HUYỀN - Tran Khanh Huyen
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New Zealand Part 1 (Week 11)
One of the beautiful things about studying at UNSW is that during week 6 of our studies, we get a flexibility week where the majority of courses don’t hold class and students are given the chance to catch up with schoolwork, get ahead, or do nothing and just relax! My hostel-mates and I knew about this opportunity from the day we got here, so a big trip was always in the works. We even knew that we all wanted to spend the time in New Zealand. The only problem? There’s 18 of us living in the hostel together and we’ve had enough trouble planning trips for just 5 or 6 people, let alone 18. Everyone had a different vision of what a trip to New Zealand could look like between camping, or renting cars and staying in AirBnBs, or living out of campervans. Needless to say, the trip planning was procrastinated all through the 4 weeks of summer and another 4 weeks of term 1. Once in a while someone would say, “Guys, we really have to plan this. Plane tickets are getting expensive!” and they’d be met with more approval and support than a professor who has suggested extending a homework deadline. But, as expected with our group, no action would be taken. Until one person sits down and buys themself a roundtrip flight to New Zealand, nobody is going anywhere. Soon enough, after intense procrastination and discussion, tickets were bought, plans were made, the group of 14 (four couldn’t make it) had divided into two campervans and two cars (who would be staying in AirBnBs), and I was sitting on a plane to Queenstown.
^^ Landing in Queenstown
Queenstown may not be among New Zealand’s 20 largest cities, but it is renowned for its adventure sports and stunning scenery, earning it the nickname "Adventure Capital of the World," as my friend Elizabeth would say. Our adventures in Queenstown, however, were put on hold until the end of the trip as we had a road trip planned that would take us up north to Christchurch and then back down to the Adventure Capital. So, on our first day there we picked up our car rentals and headed to Fiordland National Park for a quick hike. The greenest plants, mossiest rocks, and most colorful mushrooms riddled the paths and made our short hike one of the most memorable.
^^ Some New Zealand Flora
I also felt a lot safer hiking in New Zealand compared to Australia. New Zealand has none of the snakes that Australia is infamous for and has an almost negligible amount of dangerous spiders compared to the numbers Australia boasts! With our glow worm cave tour waiting for us in Te Anau, we had to get back on the road quickly. Lucky for us, there are worse places to be driving than one of the most naturally beautiful countries in the world where mountains surround you in every direction and lakes bluer than the sky itself pop up out of the blue (pun intended) every few moments. We weren’t allowed to take pictures in the glow worm caves, but imagine yourself sitting on a boat in a pitch black cave with little blue/green specks scattering the ceiling. That was pretty much it! It was interesting to learn about the glow worms themselves – they glow brighter the hungrier they are (to better attract flies) and they’re actually larvae, not worms, so they just need to survive long enough to turn into gnats and reproduce. You may be wondering why I’m sharing so much detail about random worms. Well, as a recent trivia night attendee (two weeks in a row), I see every random fact as a future topic in trivia. You can thank me later.
^^ Just the average roadside view while driving along the west side of the South Island!
Milford Sound was next on the list. Just a two hour drive from Te Anau with the option of a bus service to shuttle you there and back, Milford Sound is a large fiord stretching 9 miles (or, 15 km should I say) to the open sea. Once there, a boat cruise takes you down to the ocean and back while passing waterfalls, dramatic cliffs, and some popular scuba diving destinations. Milford Sound was highly recommended as an activity on our itinerary, and it truly lived up to the hype! From the stops on the bus ride to the scenic cruise, I was in a constant state of awe that I will never forget. The rest of the trip was just as exciting, but I’ll cover it in the next post! Until then, Cheers!
^^ The car gang on our way to Milford Sound
^^ A snippet of Milford Sound
David Bayer
Biomedical Engineering
University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia
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Candyman the boogeyman for urban decay
I suppose the best place to start is defining what a boogeyman is, or bogeyman if you’re from the UK like me. In its literal sense this is an imaginary monster used to scare children, though in perhaps a more grown-up environment a boogeyman is a person, place, or even in some cases entire country used to take the blame for all our problems big and small, often when people are uneducated, ignorant or prejudice toward the real issues at hand. The Candyman of 1992 almost completely falls into the trap of becoming the problem it seeks to address. Yes, there is dangerous gang activity in metropolitan areas of major cities, yes there are children who suffer from neglect and abandonment in areas like Carbrini Green, yet these problems cannot be merely explained by a singular middle class graduate student who cares most of all about her thesis grade. Nor can it be explained by a supernatural ghost of a lynch victim or at least not until the long-term presence of a Candyman crisis can be explained. I believe the Candyman of 2021 is more equipped to do this.
In Candyman 1992 where is the actual substance to a social critique? For all it is fiction we see not even a subtle finger point of who is really responsible. Candyman protects both Republican and Democrat leaders who have allowed residential segregation to continue despite the claim America has moved past its history of othering and separating. We can go back to Barry Goldwater’s presidential campaign in 1964, Richard Nixon’s racial Dog Whistle of the ‘70s where he spoke about the problems of the urban when he really meant the problems of the black people living there. The War on Drugs would be the peak of this governmental obsession with reducing crime in black neighborhoods which saw arrest after arrest, felon after felon, and even police shot after police shot. But this agenda would not stop when the “progressives” came to town. Hello Clinton and Blaire. It would be Clinton that overlooked the dawn of a new era alright, the era of mass incarceration, an era that to many has been compared to a new system of Jim Crow racial control. Meanwhile, Blaire who may have sounded like he had the capacity to improve urban impoverishment with the “tough on crime. Tough on the causes of crime” schtick, yet the inordinate rate of stop and searches on black civilians would provide the real results of this Democrat inspired policy. All I’ll say is at least Candyman is honest.
Now, when we look at the 2021 Candyman of course there are instances in which you may view the ‘90s version and think it did the horror better, but when we compare the messages there is a great difference. Monkeypaw Productions did not fall into the trap! Jordan Peele’s company did not make a film about folklore and fantasy as an explanation for urban issues and inequality then inadvertently abandon the concept of critiquing the facts. 2021 oh boy do we see police brutality, corruption- WRONGFUL SHOOTINGS and explicit acknowledgement of the impact of gentrification. 2021 Candyman shows reality and does so accurately alongside the gruesome and fantastical. Maybe the planting of Helen into murder scenes provides a sense of perspective or does it rather play into the hands of white fears- and white fears only? Our later version eradicates this possibility with the clarification that what happened to the original Candyman is not just a thing of the past but indeed a recurring issue. Any possibility of visualizing white suburban fears is substituted with fears for black Americans. Fears that align remarkably close to actuality.
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2 weeks since I stopped wearing the hijab (update) via /r/atheism
2 weeks since I stopped wearing the hijab (update)
Since a lot of people on my first post did want me to make an update, here it goes!
The experience has actually been quite mediocre. I’m very to-myself, and most of my free time is spent in the back country hunting and stuff. I think this really helped my transition into wearing normal, functional clothes as opposed to a jilbab. Everything was going quite well until I had to go back to the city for school, and then I started having a lot of panic attacks and isolating. I’ve been avoiding going to the gym or seeing anyone I know.
Attention from the opposite gender has definitely been strained. All of my male peers from school have only seen me fully covered, and I can tell they feel uncomfortable around me now, like they’re not sure if I’m still religious or not, so they’re kinda being extra cautious. On the other hand, I find that my relationships with women is a bit strained as well: with the hijab, I was never seen as competition by other women. I was just invisible. But now I’ve noticed a shift in social settings, and women seem less trustful of me, or like they’re sizing me up.
A Christian preacher called me a jezabell and told me I was going to hell while I was at a bus stop🤠—> wearing an ankle-length slip dress = hoe clothes? Anyway, aside from muslim men “respectfully advising” me makeup makes me look like a whre, I’ve never heard the jezabell comment before. One Pakistani guy from a masjid I briefly attended ran into me on the street and basically shouted at me that he hopes I get rped because I’m just a “stupid feminist” and women’s brains are “the size of walnuts.” Idk how getting assaulted would fix any of that, but I digress. Additionally, a few fake Instagram accounts have DM’ed me to inform me of what a terrible person I am, that god will forsake me, and that I’m just a wh*re now who is hell bound. I deleted Instagram since I have a private account and it was obviously people who know me in real life who were sending these messages.
I’ve been trying to make new friends, because I genuinely don’t want any contact with my old muslim friends anymore. I loved them, and they were good to have in my life while I held the same beliefs as them. However, I Islam is dangerous and i find the entire ideology disgusting. I can’t help but feel sick around anyone who has anything to do with that religion.
Something kinda awkward that I’ve come to realize is that I genuinely have no idea to just exist around religious people. I was an Islamic fundamentalist for pretty much my entire life, so I realized that unless I’m in an academic setting, the only conversations I’ve ever had on my free time with close friends was about. Sure, I always had hobby clubs that I went to, but the result of my religious past seems to mean that I literally don’t know how to just talk to people. I’m socially inept, and I’m gonna have to work on that.
Overall, not wearing a piece of fabric on my head has felt alright. I’m glad that I can just be seen as a random person whenever I’m outside, rather than advertise a delusional ideology. It’s been challenging to start building new friendships from scratch, but I know that I’ll meet people I actually resonate with while out foraging or hunting, working on research projects, or at lectures— people who actually have more to offer me than perpetuating the cycle of Islamic indoctrination.
Sorry for how unorganized this post is. I have so many strong feelings that seem indescribable due to their magnitude.
Submitted May 31, 2023 at 06:39PM by thuebanraqis
(From Reddit https://ift.tt/axZHQUS)
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6 Reasons You Should Check Out An Axe Throwing Bar
Introduction
Axe-throwing bars are becoming increasingly popular across the country, and for good reason. They provide a unique and exciting way to spend an evening with friends, and they're also great for building teamwork and camaraderie. If you're on the fence about whether or not an axe throwing bar is right for you, here are six reasons why you should give one a try. From the thrill of competition to the satisfaction of nailing a bullseye, an axe throwing bar is sure to provide a good time for everyone involved.
What is axe throwing?
Assuming you don't already know, axe throwing is exactly what it sounds like - throwing axes! It's a new trend that has been popping up in major cities across the globe, and it's a blast. Here are a few reasons why you should check out an axe throwing bar:
1. It's a great way to blow off some steam.
Whether you're struggling with work stress or personal drama, there's nothing quite like chucking an axe to take out your frustration. And unlike punching a wall or writing in all caps on Facebook, axe throwing is actually fun.
2. You'll feel like a badass.
Let's be honest: most of us don't get to do something really cool or dangerous very often. But when you're hurling an axe with precision (or at least not hitting yourself in the face), you'll definitely feel like a badass.
3. It's great exercise... for your arms.
Swinging an axe requires some serious arm muscle, so it's actually a great workout... even if the rest of your body is just standing around watching. And who doesn't love burning calories while having fun?
4. You can bond with friends… or make new ones.
Axe throwing bars are usually set up for group events, so it's a great opportunity to bond with friends old and new. There's nothing like shared laughter and victory (or defeat) to create lasting memories.
The benefits of axe throwing
Axe throwing is a great way to relieve stress, have fun, and compete with friends. Here are some of the benefits of axe throwing:
-Axe throwing is a great way to relieve stress. Throwing an axe requires focus and concentration, which can help you forget about your worries and clear your mind.
-Axe throwing is also a lot of fun! It's a unique activity that's perfect for groups or date night. And who doesn't love competition? There's nothing like nailing a bullseye and watching your friends miss the mark.
-Finally, axe throwing is a great workout! It may not look like it, but swinging an axe uses a lot of muscles. Plus, it's a great way to work on your hand-eye coordination.
The best axe throwing bars in the United States
Whether you’re looking for a new hobby or a unique night out, axe throwing is the perfect activity. And what better place to try it than at one of the best axe throwing bars in the United States?
Here are our top picks:
1. Bury the Hatchet – Locations in Philadelphia, PA; Brooklyn, NY; and Jersey City, NJ
2. Kick Axe Throwing – Location in New York, NY
3. The Backyard Axe Throwing League – Locations in Toronto, Canada and Chicago, IL
4. Bad Axe Throwing – Locations across the United States and Canada
If you’re ready to give axe throwing a try, head to one of these great bars!
How to get started in axe throwing
If you're looking for a new and exciting way to spend an evening out with friends, look no further than your local axe throwing bar! Here's everything you need to know to get started:
First, find a facility near you. Many bars and restaurants now offer axe throwing as a unique activity. Once you've found a place to go, call ahead or check their website to see if reservations are required.
When you arrive, you'll be given a brief safety tutorial and then it's time to start throwing! The basics of axe throwing are simple - just aim for the target and let 'er rip! But there are a few things to keep in mind that will help you improve your accuracy and score higher points:
- Always throw the axe with two hands, using one hand to grip the handle and the other to stabilize the blade.
- Put your weight into the throw - don't just rely on your arm strength. Think of it like swinging a baseball bat - use your whole body for power.
- Follow through with your throw - don't just drop the axe at the end of your swing. Keep your arms moving until the axe sticks in the target.
Most importantly, have fun! Axe throwing is all about enjoying yourself and spending time with friends (or making new ones!). So relax, let loose, and see how many points you can rack up!
Conclusion
If you're looking for a new and exciting way to spend an evening out, we highly recommend checking out an axe throwing bar. Not only is it great fun, but it's also a great workout. And who knows, you might just find yourself becoming a regular!
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Search Results Talkz By Speaker: Dr Greg Lamb Dr Greg Lambfcpsa, Mmed, Mphilpaeds Neuro Area Of Medicine: Inner Medicinespeciality: Inside Drugs, M Phil Paeds Neurofrom: , Western Cape, South Africaspecial Pursuits: Gut Microbiome, Neurology
The Jura Care Team does not claim any ownership of the content material it publishes on-line. Alzheimer’s illness normally begins with mild memory loss and may progress till sufferers lose the ability to hold on a dialog or perform their daily actions. In 2013, about 5 million Americans were dwelling with Alzheimer’s illness, with 14 million expected by 2050, in accordance with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Although the examine is proscribed by its size, researchers believe their findings provide hope for creating therapies to remedy the long-term effects of head injuries. Share your thoughts on this text and join the dialog on Twitter or Facebook. The programmes and actions of CHOOSE LIFE CHURCH are at all times primarily based upon and, at all times, remain in maintaining with a Biblical assertion of Faith.
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The present centres across the impression of the Covid-19 pandemic on South Africa and shoppers normally; life post-lockdown; how companies, and the country can move forward; and what may be done to ensure a affluent future. Kannemeyer applies the stylistic and narrative traits of this 50s pulp fiction to his satirical view of latest South African life and politics. By poking fun at the secret bigotry masked by political correctness, he exposes the insecurities and fears of a society struggling to return to phrases with its past and its current. Sean Slemon's inaugural solo exhibition, and second exhibition in New York, 'BLOCK seven-hundred' references an actual metropolis block in the Chelsea area of New York City.
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We solely associate with reputable online stores, so think trust, think reliability and assume the very best prices. Another yr of fantastic work from college students across the country. This year's theme was partly formal, involving the manipulation of varied kinds of spaces, including environments, and some Old Master images, all in the pursuits of extending particular person ideas and interests. The two pieces illustrated above are typical of the kinds of exploitations that college students tried. The World Health Organization projected in April that, at best, only 26% of people residing on the planet's poorest international locations could get entry to vaccines this year through its initiative, COVAX. But that was before a wave of recent coronavirus infections and deaths hit India, the world's vaccine powerhouse.
The 1st Award is for the SAIRAC Exceptional Service Award / Bronze Medal Award in recognition of outstanding dedication to additional the goals and goals and excellent service to the Institute. Please take a second to tell us what you would possibly be in search of this Black Friday so that we might help you find the most effective deals. We don’t retailer your cost particulars, they're protected with Peach Payments.
Former chiropractor Malcolm Hooper, who owned the hyperbaric therapy clinic Oxymed Australia, is to stand trial for unsafe apply following the dying of a former client who was present process remedy for a quantity of sclerosis at Hooper’s facility. Treatment is administered in a particular chamber where sufferers inhale 100% percent medical oxygen at high pressure - twice the average atmospheric stress exerted at sea degree. This will increase the amount of oxygen within the blood, which “has direct and oblique therapeutic medical results which promote the therapeutic process,” says Roberts.
Offit's greatest guess is that the majority vaccinated people won't want booster shots for three to 5 years, as lengthy as new variants do not crop up that may evade current vaccines. "I actually think this consistency is just a sign that the vaccines are superb," she stated. "If you may have a vaccine that, for example, works towards severe illness, however would not defend against asymptomatic infection, properly, then you can have individuals walking round and never even figuring out they're contaminated and spreading it," she said.
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Fence Installation & Replacement Bethesda-A Boundary of Lifetime
As Robert Frost has quoted the above proverb in his famous poem "Mending Wall," A general question might arise such as why is it so that if we build a fence then we will be gifted with good neighbors? This proverb tends to pronounce a serious message to every one of us. Fence Repair is the only solution to bring peace and friendship between two neighbors, two cities, and even between two countries. There is much of risk whatever purpose the fence might be erected like the Great China Wall, The wall between Israelis and Palestinians.
This proverb seriously explains that it's not just a fence but a boundary line or the needed space between two states and even nations as they differ in their individuality and collectively, due to their controversial attitudes. And if they do not have the needed space or boundary it may endanger to create serious issues between two nations, two states. So it is advisable to always have your space of limitations even when if it is between two house.
Fence Installation is actually of different types and kinds, it is you who have to select the exact variety that would guard you from unwanted entry and also safeguard you from few dangers. They are considered to be the specialist in both manufacturing and installation with a wide range of designs and attractive wooden fences.
They also give an exclusive warranty on the products installed and also provide your Fence Contractors with a personal interest till the time of completion. As they provide highest quality with the cheapest price, you can easily afford a finest wooden fence around your house with your limited budget. Since, the Handyman services bethesda has a hefty set of connection with the most skilled and qualified contractors, they are able to provide their customers with the best quality of work.
If you want to good neighbor and also a good Fence Services then they are easily available to your reach. So you next step is to call the Handyman services bethesda to render you a satisfactory service.
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