#Drunk Driving Crackdown

[townpostin]

SSP Directs Intensified Traffic Rule Enforcement In Jamshedpur

Kishore Kaushal Orders Weekly Reviews And Strict Action Against Violations Rural areas to see increased vehicle checks to combat bike theft smuggling. JAMSHEDPUR – All Station House Officers (SHOs) have been directed by SSP Kishore Kaushal to carry out intensive traffic rule enforcement drives throughout the city. "At meetings at the Burmamines police station, Kaushal said that actions taken by…

[contentfornow-blog]

Blackout

I drove home drunk last night.

This morning, sitting alone in my quiet dining room with my breakfast of fruit, yogurt and coffee, previously a person who would never drive drunk, I try to rationalize it. I drank a ton of water (I know those Lollapalooza bathrooms intimately) and spaced my drinking over the entire day, but then we left at 9.30 instead of eleven like we planned. I thought I had more time.

I can’t rationalize this. The truth is that I had been working at Lolla since 9:30 a.m., was alone and had nothing to do, and I wanted a buzz. I actively sought intoxication. At 5:19 p.m., when I was on beer #2, I wrote myself a note: “I need a new drug. Beer makes me pee too much.” The other truth is that my only barrier to drinking was that drinks were festival-expensive and I didn’t have much money. My plan to drink for free in the VIP area for as long as possible, as I had on Friday, didn’t work because of a specific crackdown on free crew drinking.

And so over the next six hours, I bought a $10 beer, and then another, and then a $30 bottle of wine (two 375ml cans poured together into one plastic bottle with an easy-drink flip lid) and then another $18 can of wine. I even took a picture of the bottle of wine because it was ingenious (a water bottle but with wine!) and also an ostentatious display of alcohol. I ignored the outrageous $68 I spent, and way overshot my drinking goals, blowing right through the buzz and into true-blue intoxication. I was drunk. Fail a DUI test, spend the night in jail or cause a horrific accident drunk.

And then I drove my 14 year old son and his friend home. We can stop there for a second. The ending of this story is not tragic. Nor is this story only about excessive drinking. This story is about the first time I have ever blacked out.

I remember having the first beer, the second beer, the bottle of wine, and buying the second can of wine. I don’t remember drinking the second can of wine, or whether I drank from the can or poured it into the bottle, which I remember considering. I don’t remember disposing of the bottle or the can. I don’t know whether I finished the wine. I do remember that I bought some ooey-gooey cheese fries after I bought the can of wine, because I remember setting the can on the counter while I paid. I remember eating the fries, refraining from licking my filthy fingers clean and wiping my fingers on the wood chips I was sitting on. Although I think I was sitting on cement. Or maybe I was standing. I took some pictures of the band I was watching from a standing position.

I remember my son texting me at 9 pm to ask if we could meet at 9:30 instead of 11:00. I replied, coherently. I even asked a question about whether I was driving anyone else home and told him about the band I was seeing. I remember winding my way out of the crowd. I remember thinking I should pee before I left, but I don’t remember peeing. I don’t remember finding an exit. I don’t remember leaving Lolla at all.

I don’t remember walking down Michigan Ave, although I remember being at the meeting place. I texted my son saying I was there. From my texts, I can see I waited for him for 8 minutes, but I don’t remember that. I remember going down the stairs towards the parking lot with my son and his friend, I remember showing them the picture on my phone showing where I’d parked my car, I remember getting into the car, and pulling up to the gate, inserting the ticket and putting my phone under the scanner. I remember driving up onto Michigan Ave, being careful of the cement walls on either side of the ramp, telling the kids how lucky we were to beat the traffic, turning onto Randolph and then onto Lake Shore Drive. I remember telling my son’s friend that I missed the North Ave exit because it came up too fast and I would take Fullerton instead. I remember asking something about Halsted, turning on Halsted and then on Armitage and then pulling in front of his house. I remember him getting out of the car seemingly very quickly.

I don’t remember pulling away from his house. I don’t remember talking to my son on the way home. I have no memory of which way I drove back to Lake Shore Drive. I have no memory of driving on Lake Shore Drive, exiting Lake Shore Drive, driving to my house, and pulling into my garage. I remember being in the kitchen and asking my son to be quiet so my other child wouldn’t wake up. I remember going upstairs and my child had in fact been woken up. I remember kissing them goodnight. I don’t remember going to bed.

When I woke up in the morning, I experienced the very unfamiliar feeling of disorientation. I knew where I was, but immediately realized all I did not remember, and I felt horrified. Shame, and more than a little terror. My son was asleep. What would he remember? What did I do? What did I say? Was my driving bad? Was it scary? Did he see how drunk I was? Did his friend? Would his friend’s parents be calling me? Was I an alcoholic? How come I didn’t have a hangover? How could I feel fine?

As soon as I was alone, I googled blacking out. Not surprisingly, there were tons of hits. I learned that blacking out is seen as a problem of binge drinking, although it used to be thought of as a symptom of advanced alcoholism. While it’s not considered “normal,” it’s definitely widespread. And my drinking last night fell squarely in binge territory.

I learned there are two kinds of black outs: partial and total. Because I can remember some of the events, mine was partial. Total blackouts are when people remember absolutely nothing from one point forwards. And in partial blackouts, some memories can be refreshed or recovered, while in total blackouts, memory is gone. In fact, it was never there: blackouts affect the part of the brain which creates memory by transferring short term memory to long term memory. In a blackout, that process is affected, and the events of a time period may never be recoverable, even though the person was awake, interacting, talking, and DRIVING.

All of the information included warnings about the dangers of blacking out, like unsafe sex and violence, but the one I was particularly interested in was driving. Because I have no memory of driving after dropping off my son’s friend, that memory might be gone forever. Yet at the time, I was awake, I was talking to my son, I obviously successfully navigated home and caused no accidents, but HOW?

Now, a couple of days later, I’ve decided to take a break from alcohol. For a week? A month? (How will I handle my vacation coming up?) I don’t think I’m an alcoholic because I don’t need alcohol and I will not have trouble taking this break. (Could I quit? I think so. But I don’t want to. Does that make me an alcoholic?) But I drink a lot – does that make me alcoholic? I read today that 60% of Americans have less than one drink per week, which seems low to me. Does that make me an alcoholic? The fact that I’m asking definitely means I should watch my drinking. I’m fearful – without any evidence – that this blackout has triggered something deeper, that it’s not just a result of one night of extremely heavy drinking. I’m afraid that I might black out if I have one drink. I read that that could happen.

But so far, there have been no consequences. I have seen my son’s friend and nothing was abnormal. My interactions with my son have been the same as ever. Although the next day, when I asked him what he ate at Lolla, he said, Dad, I told you last night. We had a whole conversation about it.

[cyber-polemics]

Laken Riley Act (S.5)

Jack: The Laken Riley Act, designated as S.5, is a proposed United States law that mandates the Department of Homeland Security to detain non-citizens charged with or convicted of theft-related crimes, assaulting a police officer, or offenses resulting in death or serious bodily injury, such as drunk driving. The Act also empowers states to sue the Department of Homeland Security for alleged failures in immigration enforcement. Named after Laken Riley, a Georgia nursing student who was tragically killed by an undocumented immigrant, the bill has garnered significant attention and debate. The Senate passed the amended version of the bill on January 20, 2025, with a 64–35 vote, including support from twelve Democrats. The House of Representatives concurred with the Senate's version on January 22, 2025, passing it with a 263–156 vote, where 46 Democrats joined Republicans in favor. President Donald Trump is expected to sign the bill into law, marking it as the first legislation of his administration. en.wikipedia.org Imani Jefferson: This legislation is a blatant attack on immigrant communities! By mandating the detention of non-citizens merely accused of certain crimes, it disregards the fundamental principle of "innocent until proven guilty." This Act will lead to mass incarcerations, tearing families apart and instilling fear among immigrants who contribute positively to our society. It's a draconian measure that perpetuates harmful stereotypes and does nothing to address the root causes of crime or the complexities of immigration. Preston Bancroft: The Laken Riley Act is a necessary and prudent measure to protect American citizens from individuals who have shown a blatant disregard for our laws. By ensuring that non-citizens charged with serious offenses are detained, we uphold the rule of law and deter future criminal activity. This legislation provides states with the authority to hold the federal government accountable in enforcing immigration laws, reinforcing the balance of power and enhancing public safety. Imani Jefferson: It's infuriating to see such a punitive approach being celebrated! This Act will disproportionately impact marginalized communities and exacerbate systemic inequalities. Instead of investing in community programs and addressing socio-economic factors that contribute to crime, the government is choosing to expand the prison-industrial complex. This is not justice; it's an unjust crackdown that ignores the humanity of those seeking a better life. Preston Bancroft: While compassion is important, we must not overlook the safety and security of our citizens. The Laken Riley Act addresses a critical gap in our immigration enforcement by detaining individuals who pose a potential threat. It also empowers states to take legal action when federal enforcement is lacking, ensuring that immigration laws are uniformly applied. This balanced approach respects both the rights of individuals and the safety of the community.

[hukassimaster]

Is the club's team management lax? Has the team's discipline collapsed?

It seems that the team is not managed at all. LG was caught again driving under the influence 넥스트벳가입of alcohol by its player. On the 13th, a few days after pitcher Lee Sang-young was disqualified for a year by KBO, a new infielder in his fourth year was disqualified for a year due to drunk driving.

The Korea Baseball Organization (KBO) announced on the 20th that "LG Kim Yoo-min, who was 다파벳가입caught in the police crackdown on drunk driving, was disqualified for a year."

Kim Yoo-min was caught in a drunk driving crackdown at around 11:30 p.m. on the 17th, and was subject to a one-year disqualification in accordance with Article 151 of the KBO Covenant as he met the criteria for 메이저사이트revocation of his license. According to the LG club, Kim Yoo-min voluntarily reported on the 19th that he was caught driving under the influence of alcohol. The club notified the KBO Clean Baseball Center.

[news365timesindia]

Bengaluru traffic police recently conducted a citywide crackdown on drunk driving. The week-long special drive, held from October 21 to October 27, resulted in 314 cases being registered against individuals driving under the influence of alcohol. Source [ad_2] Source link

[news365times]

Bengaluru traffic police recently conducted a citywide crackdown on drunk driving. The week-long special drive, held from October 21 to October 27, resulted in 314 cases being registered against individuals driving under the influence of alcohol. Source [ad_2] Source link

[nepalniceties]

Traffic Police Crackdown: Over 39,000 Penalized for Drunk Driving in Nepal

In the past six months, the Traffic Police in Nepal has taken stern action against 39,272 individuals for driving under the influence of alcohol. An additional 242 people were found driving under the influence of drugs during the same period and faced penalties. The breakdown reveals that among those caught driving under the influence of alcohol, 18,627 were in the Kathmandu Valley, 2,524 in…

[swagpaperuniversitymoney]

http://dlvr.it/Sy6PMm

[magical-bigbang-noona]

More toxic 💩 driving me crazy how stans will turn a blind eye to anything their idols do.

WTF is wrong with Kim Heechul? I mean, he's another one who I felt was problematic but again, even I shrugged some of it off. Now he's giving a not really much of an apology for his latest drunk screw up on a friend's video blog.

Yeah, he was drunk. That's not an excuse. The stuff he said against feminists and one certain group of women was ignorant and offensive, though not surprising from a privileged Korean male. Korea is not exactly the capitol of feminist tolerance. Still not an excuse.

He gave the standard "if what I said bothered you" &" I'm sorry you felt that way" victim blaming, non apology which is classic passive aggressive no responsibility taken, sorry not sorry, the problem is with you not me crap.

I stupidly looked at the comments and almost unanimously are the female stans saying he was just "telling it like it is" and has nothing to be sorry for. Wow. How these girls can just throw their own gender under the bus for a crush I will never comprehend and hope I never do.

Same with Kris Wu. Yes, sentencing in China is harsh, but you know, maybe he shouldn't have been RAPING GIRLS while he was a celebrity there. But we got girls crying over his prison sentence and how long it is and blah blah blah.

And once again, I'm pissed because while I wasn't into his music I did like his work as an actor. Yet again, warning niggles for years like I had with S* but yeah, I ignored them too. And that is on me. I'm not claiming I'm completely immune,I need to learn to not ignore red flags, but when I'm faced with proof that a celebrity I had a crush on or admired committed crimes against another human or willingly broke laws with full knowledge of what they were doing and are not really sorry for it other than getting caught then yea, I usually feel horrible and betrayed and then write them out of my life. Not slam the blinders down and go, nah, I like him so he couldn't have done that, end of story.

Take Deng Lun aka Allen Deng, another C-drama celeb I loved. Watched a bunch of his serials. Then he gets indicted in the Chinese crackdown of celebrity tax evasion. Like, in the millions of dollars, somewhere in the neighborhood of 16 million USD. He knew what he did, he deliberately hid his income, he said he did it because "everyone was doing it" (sound familiar?). To be honest a lot were and yes, it was quietly ignored for years til citizens made such a big protest about the differences in treatment that the authorities decided to make a show of coming down on celeb tax dodgers.

He was wildly popular and then literally lost all of his jobs and lucrative endorsements overnight. And fans were crying and metaphorically rending their shirts, saying they are with him and he didn't deserve to lose his status and poor him, we need to let him know he didn't do anything wrong, and meanwhile I'm just upset that someone I liked so much was involved in that.

Just because someone is a celebrity it doesn't mean they couldn't possibly commit crime. Or if they did they had to be a completely clueless, innocent babe in the woods and it's not their fault.

Take TOP. He was and is my bias. Do I think Korea's laws on certain prescription drugs and marijuana is unnecessarily strict? Yes. Doesn't matter.

Do I think he had reasons he turned to marijuana use? Yes. But he still knew how stringent the laws were, he used it, and got caught. And yeah, he lied too at first. Am I happy about that? No. But the situation was what it was.

Regardless of his mental state, and personally, if you think mental health care is bad in the States it's pretty much non existent in comparison in Korea, he was aware of the laws and as a citizen he has to adhere to the law, even if I, a fan in the States, thinks it's stupid and too harsh.

He screwed up. He was liable, he paid his penalty with lenience that yes, considering his life long mental health conditions is justifiable,and the fact that he was so sorry and upset he took an overdose and almost died was also a factor, he admitted his guilt, he was truly sorry for everything, he got the help he needed, and carried out the rest of his duties as quietly as the press would let him.

I never thought of him as a saint who did no wrong. That he deserved none of his penance and was a lily white angel just because I like the man a lot.

I mean, this is simplifying it all, and don't get me started on the almost repeat of the same situation with B.I. of iKon and how I thought and still think YG is a swirling cesspool that harbored a lot of shady crap and when the pins were down they threw their own artists under the bus to protect themselves. They made for a bad environment IMO and yes, I even hold the Co. and YG himself as a terrible influence on S* and feel it all had more than a hand in that whole mess. But in the end, S was a 30 yr old man, not a child, and he knew damn well what he was doing and what the people he was associating himself with were like.

As the saying goes, you lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas. So the continuous infantilising of him and saying how he never could have possibly even put a toe out of line knowingly just because you can't deal with your crush not being a blameless ethereal being is just infuriating to me and always will be.

[townpostin]

Jamshedpur Police Crack Down on Criminals and Drunk Drivers

Special night-time checking campaign initiated to curb crime and drunk driving. The district police in Jamshedpur have launched a stringent campaign against criminals and drunk drivers. JAMSHEDPUR – In a determined effort to control crime and prevent drunk driving, the district police have commenced a special checking campaign. Late at night, SSP Kishore Kaushal, City SP Rishabh Garg, and other…

[beardedmrbean]

In Africa, the risks of traffic accidents are exceptionally high. The number of road accidents is also higher than on any other continent. 

In the past week alone, road accidents have claimed dozens of lives in Kenya, Nigeria, Egypt, and South Africa, to mention just a few countries. Available data from the World Health Organization (WHO) suggest that Africa has the worst rate of road traffic deaths in the world, with an unacceptably high fatality rate of 26.6 deaths per 100,000 people — nearly three times that of Europe.

The Dominican Republic takes first place in a ranking compiled by the health service platform World Life Expectancy using WHO data. After that, only African countries, such as Zimbabwe, Malawi, Liberia, Eritrea and others, follow until Venezuela breaks the ranks at 26th.

Kenya's crackdown on traffic offenders

Kenya is ranked 12th, with 48 traffic fatalities per 100,000 inhabitants. However, the number of deaths in relation to the population has risen steadily since 2013. Interior Minister Kithure Kindiki announced that he would take tougher action against drivers who do not obey the traffic rules.

"We expect all regulations governing traffic on our roads to be complied with 100%, by all people, regardless of their rank or social position," Kindiki told reporters, adding that he had instructed the police to take action against all those who violate traffic regulations without exception.

South Africa: 'Arrive Alive' campaign bears fruit

Traffic authorities in South Africa have warned motorists to be mindful on the roads during the Christmas and New Year celebrations. With slogans such as "Be safe — get there," radio stations have been drawing attention to the dangers of flouting traffic rules almost every hour.

The "Arrive Alive" campaign has been active for years and provides valuable tips on responsible behavior behind the wheel and during traffic jams and other disruptions. It also offers help on how to plan trips to a destination popular with tourists. Recently, South Africa has observed a decline in traffic fatalities.

Nevertheless, traffic accidents still killed about 22.2 people per 100,000 inhabitants in 2019 on South Africa's roads, according to the WHO. By African standards, that's a huge improvement, but well above the global average. 

For example, about four people per 100,000 inhabitants in Germany died in road traffic accidentsin 2018.

Fighting corruption and driving while drunk

Alcohol is a major factor in accidents in South Africa, writes the South African Journal of Science on its website. The journal recommends introducing zero tolerance for drunk driving. 

Overall, calls for stricter penalties for road traffic offenses are growing louder, not least because corrupt police officers often make it difficult to punish traffic offenders efficiently when they can buy their way out for small amounts of money.

In Kenya, too, the excesses of corruption contribute to carnage on the roads. In some instances, some have been caught driving without licenses, thereby risking the lives of other commuters. 

"Our drivers cut it short. They buy papers at the counter, and the next day, they're on the road, driving too fast and we have to be on our guard," Eunice Imwenda, manager of a driving school in the capital, Nairobi, told DW. 

Accidents different from crashes

In Nigeria, road traffic crashes are among the leading causes of death, along with insurgency and banditry, according to data from the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC). According to the National Bureau of Statistics, Africa's most populous nation recorded 41,709 road deaths between 2013 and 2020.

In many cases, one should speak of collisions (crashes) rather than accidents, Gbenga Akimbule, a policy analyst, told DW. 

"An accident is something you didn't plan for, but if you have a bad tire and you know that the tire might not get you to your destination and you pray and believe that God will get you there, that's different."

Daily reports of road accidents

"Road accidents and collisions have become so normal that hardly a day goes by without a report of a road accident that takes lives or causes permanent disabilities for victims," Badiya Sani from Maiduguri told DW. "Those of us who don't own a car have no choice but to switch to public transportation. But we do so with a lot of trepidation," she added.

As in many African countries, authorities must establish a good public transport network. Buses and minibus cabs are usually in poor condition, technically untested and often involved in accidents. The government needs to do more about this, Sani urges.

Educating Kenya's bodaboda riders

In Kenya, local motorcycle cabs known as "boda bodas" are a popular means of public transport. But they are also responsible for many accidents, Evans Langat of the National Transport and Safety Authority (NTSA) told DW.

The agency is therefore emphasizing this in its educational campaign. "We've made all drivers aware, and I think the message has gotten through," Langat said.

The numbers in the coming years will show whether he's right about that. For now, many a Kenyan family will breathe a sigh of relief once the holiday traffic is over.

[logsfm]

hey my loves   !   i’m mia  ,  21 from the east coast   !   i have not roleplayed in sheeeesh   ...   like five or six months   ?   but i am so excited to be here for opening with all of y’all   .   i spent like all morning trying to weed out this gal logan right here   ...   she’s a trip   ,   that’s the best overall description i have for ya   .   anywho   ,  lets get to the actual thing you’re here for her lil intro   .   also if you wanna mssg on discord here ya go   𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐬 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#7040   .

logan samara-de jaager was spotted in the fashion district adorning  air force 1’s university blue  , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to  benz i know by kelvyn colt  . you may know them as  @delogan  or as that  bella hadid  lookalike . their  twenty fourth  birthday just passed . while living in  the upper east side  , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be  querulous  but on the other hand  passionate  . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines . ( cisfemale / she/her +  mia / twenty one / she/her ) + ( “ logan de jaager seen shoving ex in hotel footage during heated argument , not so sweet huh? ” / “ miss de jaager was spotted sneaking into ex beau’s apartment , what could she be up to? ” / “ sweet socialite or greedy trust fund baby ? milan de jaager publicly accuses daughter logan of stealing $1M … ” )

born into the true lap of luxury . the daughter of real estate magnate & high - profile attorney milan de jaager and his wife , british born socialite lana samara . the two of them held high favor within the 1% but were also able to find a perfect balance . they did a great job of separating personal life from the tabloids . it was rare to really know the happenings of their day to day . they had this particular kind of mystery to them , if you will .

it wasn’t long before lana began to instill the very same rhetoric she received as a child into her own   .   quality over quantity   ,   was the motto   .   just not in the way you’d assume   .   the quality at which a de jaager presented themselves to you was much more important than than quantity of time you spent with them   .   looks   ?   they’re everything   ,   in the de jaager household   .   time was simply a societal construct implemented to catch you on a bad day   ,   for that very line of thinking they embodied being late   .   rushing out of the house to finish your make up in the car   ?   a literal sin in the eyes of her mother   .

she was encouraged to take part in ballet and beauty pageants growing up   .   anything that could showcase how beautiful their daughter was lana and milan were on board for   .   personally logan hated ballet but she couldn’t deny she loved the applause the night of a showcase   .   she also couldn’t stand pageants but loved having all eyes on her as she went on stage   .

it became quite clear as the years went on that her parents were much more like close friends to their daughter than like rule - instilling guardians   .   she would text them to dismiss her from school   ,   get them to buy her   &   her friends alcohol for sleepovers  /  parties   ,   was very much so that kid who got high with her parents   .   really anything you could do with your friends   ?   was fair game with logan   &   her folks   .

at sixteen a friend of her moms who was going to be a designer for spring fashion week that year asked if logan would want to walk for him   .   she was quick to accept the offer and before she knew it she had multiple offers to walk in that years fall fashion weeks   ,   because of how easy it came to her   -    though   ,    she’s the first to admit she never really took modeling all that seriously   .

it was just a year later that her way of life changed drastically , logan and her twin brother had been caught by paparazzi on a friends boat in the hamptons snorting a white substance , anyone with eyes knew exactly what the group of teenagers were doing . upon returning home the two received the crackdown of the century . their once friendly parents turned to strict jail like guardians . often reminded that they put the families reputation at stake . the pressure to be perfect was something logan had never had to deal with until now & she almost cracked under the pressure at every turn .

it wasn’t until she left for college that she was finally given some room to breathe , attending the university of florida was the best choice for what logan truly wanted to do with her life - become a sports analyst . growing up she was infatuated with sports & and would have been involved in much more than just cheerleading had her mom allowed for her to get so much as a speck of dirt on her . during her time in florida the paparazzi seemed to find her more often than not , something her parents often denounced both over the phone & in public . the longer she spent away from the upper east side the more she became america’s sweetheart & simultaneously a thorn in her parents side . she graduated from university in 2018 , only returning back to new york for the sake of work . she’d been offered a reporting job with espn , on top of taking up modeling gigs here & there when ever she felt necessary .

personality …

one thing is very true about the de jaager’s & is very much so the same for logan ; she is not to be trusted . she can be extremely charming when she wants to be . she could sell a bag of rocks to a beach & get a princess to sell her sole to sex work . she knows exactly what people want to hear & when they want to hear it and has no qualms about lying straight to someone’s face if it means she gets something out of it . in fact sometimes , she might lie to your face just for the sheer fun of being able to call you gullible .

she’s very much so a spoiled brat although she hates when anyone call her one , she feels like she has more layers to her than that broad term . hand in hand with that is her drama queen like tendencies , any situation were there is a simple solution she will find a way to blow vastly out of portion .

due to her mother’s heavy influence growing up , she can be rather vein & materialistic . catch her like “ i can’t date a garbage person ” to someone simply because they’re not as rich or known enough for her liking .

it’s rare that you’ll ever see her jump out of character . she’s very calculated & aware of who she is ( or who she needs to seem like ) so if you ever see her emotions getting the better of her , you’ve really broken her .

she’s the type to dabble in a little bit of anything   ?   she’s a rich nyc party girl who’s been partying well before anyone should have allowed her to so she’s done it all   .    you’d be kidding yourself to think you could surprise  /  scare logan on a wild night out   .

she’s quick   &   creative with her sense of humor   .   she has both a crude / dry sense of humor   ,   as well   ,   and really just doesn’t find goofy things to be funny but more or less embarrassing   ( so if she ever tells you you’re goofy , remember it’s not a compliment ) .

her upbringing   &   parents sentiment on tabloids once reflected massively on logan   ,   but now she couldn’t quite care less about it all . after all she spends hours in front of cameras on a regular basis for work . although she does tend to shy away from people who she deems are hungry for fame or attention   .   she’s been used in the past for fame   &   will never let it happen again   , plus she’s the type to lap up attention so she likes to have as little fame whores around her as possible , more shine for her .

when she isn’t being a total nightmare though she’s actually really fun to be around ? she’s playful & loves to keep the party alive . often can be found claiming “ i’m high on life ” although everyone saw the pictures , logan , we know what you’re really high on , girl .

very chatty girl , too . victim of foot - in - mouth syndrome , big time . she doesn’t try to be disloyal & spill people’s secrets ( or does she ? ) but she can’t help herself . if she has piping hot tea she’s gonna spill it because she doesn’t wanna burn herself .

very observant girl , who loves to people watch but her observations can sometimes get muddled when she starts judging people a little too hardcore .

she’s also a undercover couch potato    &    by that i mean if you give her an option to go out   &   do something she’ll never outwardly choose to stay home to watch netflix and snuggle up under the blankets but secretly she’s hoping   &   praying she gets a chance to do so   .

plots   ...

END THIS ( L.O.V.E ) / her first love   .   these two brought the absolute worst out of one another   .    they messed her up so much that she has a weird perspective on what love between two s/o’s should even feel like now   .   maybe they had another s/o at the same time as her   &   kinda just strung her on   &   when it came out were able to lie so much to her that she believed them   .   idk   ,   in truth we could really plot something completely different as to what they did   &   inevitably what the breaking point was   .   maybe they broke up with her   &   had they not ended it maybe she would’ve still been okay with being in the relationship   .   idk i just feel like this one could be fun as hell   .     also they’d be the one whom she was caught arguing with in one of her headlines   .   ( 0 / 1 )

AFTER PARTY / this is a more reckless take of party buddies   .   im envisioning a group of people who when the parties over they all pull up to close by gulf course   ,   indulge even more in their choices of substance   ,   there is a naked gulf tournament going on   ,   there are drunks driving golf carts   ,   swerving and pouring bacardi all over the course   .   running from security when they pop up   .   it’s tradition at this point   &   if someone doesn’t come it’s almost disrespectful at this point   .   idk i just love the thought of this kinda vibe   .   ( 2 / ? )

SECRETS / okay so this one is messy   .   basically logan was very private for most of her life   (   thanks mom   &   dad   )   and during the early stages of highschool she lied to everyone saying she was a virgin   .   she told each one of these individuals that they were her first whether it be to make them fall for her   “   innocence   ”   ,   want to chase after her   ,   or whatever else we might be able to plot out   .   inevitably they compare notes at some point and find out that she’d been lying to them all   .   we can plot out how they confronted her i feel like we could make this real dramatic though   .   this would also be a backstory plot so   ,   we  can also plot out how things have transpired since for them   .   ( 0 / 3 or 4 )

BEST FRIEND / these two girls take best friends to the next level   .   they relate to one another on every level and are there for one another at all times   .   there is never a moment where they are competing with one another because they know that their #1 in there respective category   .   they are one another’s ultimate hype beasts   .   they truly embody chaotic goddess vibes   .   it’s like they were placed on this earth simply to be friends because they compliment one another that well   .   ( 0 / 1 )

LETS FALL IN LOVE FOR THE NIGHT / they are the one that’s there whenever she’s down   .   they have the ability to make her feel like they have some sort of old love whenever she’s around them   .   those feelings only last for the night though   .   they enjoy when she rambles on about sports or the novel she just recently read or really just anything she enjoys can put a smile on their face   .    they know better than to ever confuse what is going on between them though   ,   they know that she’ll never be theirs   .   whether they’re okay with this or not we can definitely plot out   .   ( 0 / 1 )

MOANA / they are not a fan of logan   .   they see her for what she is   :   an attention seeking   ,    spoiled brat and the fact that they don’t want anything to do with her makes her want them all the more   .    when they finally slept with her it was only to prove a point to her s/o at the time   ,   to prove that she’s not the sweet girlfriend she claimed to be   .   basically they’re the person who outed her for being a ho ho ho but despite knowing that they outed her for that she still tries to hook up with them because they were the best she ever had    .   they often turn her down but after a while not even they can deny that they’re attracted to her   .   they still don’t fuck with her though   .   also i think it’d be cool if their were two of them   &   maybe they worked together to out her to her s/o that didn’t believe she was a cheater   ( 0 / 2 )   also bring the s/o that they outed her to   ( 0 / 1 )

ELEVEN / the type of relationship that is stuck in the grey area   .   they’re more than friends but they don’t necessarily admit to having feelings for one another   .   honestly they probably don’t even think they have feelings for one another   .   it’s a weird dynamic   .   they spend the most of their time together late at night   .   there meeting time    ?   11pm   .    they go on wild joy rides to the beach   .   heads out of the sun roof as they let out a loud woo   .    the only thing accompanying them is a big bag of weed   .    sometimes they have deep talks   ,   honestly they probably know more about one another than anyone else   ?   because of these adventurous of theirs   .   when they aren’t having deep talks they’re running across the beach aimlessly   &   rolling around in the sand with one another   .   it’s really just a very pure plot that i need in my life   .  ( 0 / 1 )

TRUST NOBODY / this is someone who used logan for fame / attention   .   they either became close friends or even started dating   &   they used everything they learned about her or what went on between them to relay back to a tabloid / would call paparazzi to come and take pictures of them together whenever they’d go out   .   ( 0 / 1 )

some other plot ideas i’d love to see   :   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   ,   x   .

[newstfionline]

Sunday, June 13, 2021

Rash of mass shootings stirs US fears heading into summer (AP) Two people were killed and at least 30 others wounded in mass shootings overnight in three states, authorities said Saturday, stoking concerns that a spike in U.S. gun violence could continue into summer as coronavirus restrictions ease and more people are free to socialize. The attacks took place late Friday or early Saturday in the Texas capital of Austin, Chicago and Savannah, Georgia. In Austin, authorities said they arrested one of two male suspects and were searching for the other after a shooting early Saturday on a crowded pedestrian-only street packed with bars and restaurants. Fourteen people were wounded, including two critically, in the gunfire, which the city’s interim police chief said is believed to have started as a dispute between two parties. In Chicago, a woman was killed and nine other people were wounded when two men opened fire on a group standing on a sidewalk in the Chatham neighborhood on the city’s South Side. In the south Georgia city of Savannah, police said one man was killed and seven other people were wounded in a mass shooting Friday evening.

Summer camps return but with fewer campers and counselors (AP) Overnight summer camps will be allowed in all 50 states this season, but COVID-19 rules and a pandemic labor crunch mean that many fewer young campers will attend, and those who do will have to observe coronavirus precautions for the second consecutive year. “Camp might look a little different, but camp is going to look a lot better in 2021 than it did in 2020, when it didn’t happen,” said Matt Norman of Atlanta, who is getting ready to send his 12-year-old daughter to camp. Even though most camps will be open, reduced capacity necessitated by COVID-19 restrictions and the labor shortage will keep numbers well below a normal threshold of about 26 million summer campers, said Tom Rosenberg of the American Camp Association.

Mexico says COVID-19 has affected a fourth of its population (Reuters) About a quarter of Mexico’s 126 million people are estimated to have been infected with the coronavirus, the health ministry said on Friday, far more than the country’s confirmed infections. The 2020 National Health and Nutrition Survey (Ensanut) showed that about 31.1 million people have had the virus, the ministry said in a statement, citing Tonatiuh Barrientos, an official at the National Institute of Public Health. According to Barrientos, not all of the people in the survey’s estimate necessarily showed symptoms. The survey was based on interviews with people at 13,910 households between Aug. 17 and Nov. 14 last year, and confirmed preliminary results released in December.

Peru on edge as electoral board reviews result of disputed presidential election (Guardian) Peru was on a knife-edge on Friday as its electoral board reviewed ballots cast in the presidential election, after a challenge to the tally by the losing candidate Keiko Fujimori. The final tally gave the leftist teacher Pedro Castillo a razor-thin 50.17% to 49.83% advantage over his rightwing rival Fujimori, which amounts to about 60,000 votes. However, the country’s electoral authority has yet to confirm the win, and Fujimori, the scion of a controversial political dynasty, has refused to concede. She alleges fraud, even though national and international observers said the vote was clean, and has called for up to 500,000 votes to be nullified or reexamined, forcing the electoral board to conduct a review of ballots.

For Cornwall, G7 summit brings disruption (AP) Towering steel fences, masses of police, protests on the beach: The Cornish seaside’s turquoise waters and white sandy beaches are looking decidedly less idyllic this week as leaders of the Group of Seven wealthy democracies descend for a summit. U.S. President Joe Biden and leaders from Canada, France, Germany, Italy and Japan are arriving for three days of talks starting Friday at the tiny village of Carbis Bay, near St. Ives in Cornwall. The region is a popular holiday destination in the southwestern tip of England. Locals may be used to crowds and traffic jams during the peak summer tourist season, but the disruptions caused by the summit are on another level. A naval frigate dominates the coastline, armed soldiers guard the main sites and some 5,000 extra police officers have been deployed to the area. Authorities have even hired a cruise ship with a capacity of 3,000, moored offshore, to accommodate some of the extra officers. A main road is closed for the whole week, and local train lines and bus services have been shut down. A 3-meter (10-foot) tall metal fence nicknamed the “ring of steel” has been erected around Treganna Castle in Carbis Bay, where world leaders will stay. Security is also tight in the nearby town of Falmouth, the main base for international media covering the summit.

World leaders are in England, but beautiful British beaches have stolen the show (Washington Post) When President Biden shared a photo to Twitter on Thursday of him standing alongside British Prime Minister Boris Johnson and gazing out onto an unspoiled, sandy white beach from the Group of Seven summit in Cornwall, England, the post was supposed to be a tribute to the “special relationship” between the United Kingdom and the United States. But to many, it was the image of the picturesque coast that stood out. It looked somewhat suspicious. Too good to be true. Others questioned the authenticity of the scene, wondering whether it was photoshopped. Although it is true that some of Britain’s beaches have a reputation for pebbles, angry seagulls that steal food from unsuspecting tourists and diapers that float in murky waters, the county of Cornwall boasts some of the country’s best seaside destinations—complete with calm, clear waters that are perfect for swimming in and long stretches of soft sand that attract families from around the world. Carbis Bay is one of several beaches that make up St. Ives Bay, which, according to the Cornwall tourist board, is considered by the “Most Beautiful Bays in the World” organization to be one of the world’s best. The bay is described as being “surrounded by sub-tropical plants and lapped by turquoise waters.”

Ransomware’s suspected Russian roots point to a long detente between the Kremlin and hackers (Washington Post) The ransomware hackers suspected of targeting Colonial Pipeline and other businesses around the world have a strict set of rules. First and foremost: Don’t target Russia or friendly states. It’s even hard-wired into the malware, including coding to prevent hacks on Moscow’s ally Syria, according to cybersecurity experts who have analyzed the malware’s digital fingerprints. They say the reasons appear clear. “In the West you say, ‘Don’t . . . where you eat,’ ” said Dmitry Smilyanets, a former Russia-based hacker who is now an intelligence analyst at Recorded Future, a cybersecurity company with offices in Washington and other cities around the world. “It’s a red line.” Targeting Russia could mean a knock on the door from state security agents, he said. But attacking Western enterprises is unlikely to trigger a crackdown. The relationship between the Russian government and ransomware criminals allegedly operating from within the country is expected to be a point of tension between President Biden and Russia’s Vladimir Putin at their planned summit in Geneva on Wednesday. The United States has accused Russia of acting as a haven for hackers by tolerating their activities—as long as they are directed outside the country.

Pandemic relapse spells trouble for India’s middle class (AP) India’s economy was on the cusp of recovery from the first pandemic shock when a new wave of infections swept the country, infecting millions, killing hundreds of thousands and forcing many people to stay home. Cases are now tapering off, but prospects for many Indians are drastically worse as salaried jobs vanish, incomes shrink and inequality is rising. Decades of progress in alleviating poverty are imperiled, experts say, and getting growth back on track hinges on the fate of the country’s sprawling middle class. It’s a powerful and diverse group ranging from salaried employees to small business owners: many millions of people struggling to hold onto their hard-earned gains. The outbreak of the pandemic triggered the worst downturn since the Great Depression of the 1930s and as it gradually ebbs, many economies are bouncing back. India’s economy contracted 7.3% in the fiscal year that ended in March, worsening from a slump that slashed growth to 4% from 8% in the two years before the pandemic hit. Economists fear there will be no rebound similar to the ones seen in the U.S. and other major economies.

‘Xi Jinping is my spiritual leader’: China’s education drive in Tibet (Reuters) Under clear blue skies, rugged peaks and the spectacular Potala Palace, one image is ubiquitous in Tibet’s capital city Lhasa: portraits of Chinese President Xi Jinping and fellow leaders. China is broadening a political education campaign as it celebrates the 70th anniversary of its control over Tibet. Civilians and religious figures who the government arranged to be interviewed on the five-day trip pledged loyalty to the Communist Party and Xi. Asked who his spiritual leader was, a monk at Lhasa’s historic Jokhang temple named Xi. “I’m not drunk ... I speak freely to you,” said the monk named Lhakpa, speaking from a courtyard overlooked by security cameras and government observers. “The posters [of Xi] coincide with a massive political education programme which is called ‘feeling gratitude to the party’ education,” said Robert Barnett, a Tibetan studies veteran scholar at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies.

Long overlooked, Israel’s Arab citizens are increasingly asserting their Palestinian identity (Washington Post) Growing up in an Arab village in northern Israel in the 1990s, Mahmoud Abo Arisheh was sure of at least two things: He was Israeli, and he was not allowed to talk politics. “Be careful, or the Shin Bet will get you,” his parents told him, referring to Israel’s domestic security service. Decades later, much has changed: Abo Arisheh is a lawyer, a poet and a theater director in Jaffa. He attends protests and talks politics freely—in Arabic, Hebrew and English. And while his citizenship may remain Israeli, the identity most dear to him is that of a Palestinian. “I didn’t know anything about being Palestinian,” said the 32-year-old, “but then I opened my eyes.” And now, it seems, so are many others. In just the past month, Palestinian citizens of Israel—also known as Israeli Arabs—have risen up in mass, nationwide demonstrations to protest Israeli evictions and police raids. They have been arrested by the hundreds following some of the worst communal violence between Arabs and Jews in Israel’s post-independence history. For a community that is often overlooked despite numbering nearly 2 million people—or about 20 percent of the Israeli population—these are momentous days indeed.

Nigerian police fire tear gas to break up protests over rising insecurity (Reuters) Police fired tear gas and detained several demonstrators in the Nigerian cities of Lagos and Abuja on Saturday during protests over the country’s worsening security situation, Reuters witnesses said. Anger over mass kidnappings-for-ransom, a decade-long Islamist insurgency and a crackdown on protesters in Lagos last October has fueled demands for the government of President Muhammadu Buhari to do more to tackle violence and insecurity. Reuters witnesses in Lagos and Abuja saw police shooting their guns into the air and firing tear gas into the crowds to disperse the demonstrators, who held placards and chanted “Buhari must go”. Officers were also seen smashing mobile phones confiscated from protesters, who also denounced the country’s 33.3% unemployment rate.

[bates--boy]

In the moments when everything is still and silent, Peter’s skin still itches from the sensation of that man. It still crawls with the memory of that John's lips sucking at his neck, the graze of cheap fabric as the bastard ground his wanting bulge against Peter's bare thighs, and the moist palms as John groped and pawed with the grace of a fool who really thought he was doing something.

And the absolute fuckery of it all? Peter wants to go back.

Not because the moist groping and aimless dry humping elicited an arousal from Peter. Far from it (unless instinctual repulsion is another new, trending kink that he is unaware of). Success of any kind does something to a man, and a narrow success from a self-appointed dare that could have had many terrible outcomes? Shit, that's a drug. It's a mind-altering drug that makes Peter fantasize about sauntering to that same hotel bar, in something a little tighter with a higher hem, or maybe shoulder-less and back-less, with bolder makeup. In these fantasies, Peter lets these executives and socialites and wealthy pseudo-philanthropists pull him into their rooms, and they tend to have brand new shoes and high-end blazers that are just his size, or the new make-up palettes and jewelry that he'd otherwise have to wait for months to go on sale. They have bulking wads of cash in their wallets (as tourists do) or the new generation of tech that'll go for a high price. In these fantasies, these people have asses.

But there's always the come down, and for Peter, it's acknowledging that this new game isn't sustainable. There cannot possibly be that many married or committed cheaters to justify relieving them of their possessions, and the number would be even less after taking out ones who aren't aroused by an occasional cross-dresser. There is also recognizing that he may never be able to return to that hotel bar ever again, or at least until John dies.

Peter has yet to see his name, face, or description in the news, and he knows that there are cameras in that hall Peter and his first target stumbled around in; a couple of them must have recorded him taking selfies with his loot. He doesn't know why John hasn't reported him, but he can guess that admitting to his spouse and Sweden's authorities that he propositioned a supposed hooker during Sweden's sex-purchasing crackdown would not go over favorably. But how many of those clients in Peter's fantasy would be as scared of a broken relationship, an arrest, and a ruined reputation as John presumably was? What if things go south and they use their influence to make him suffer, or force his hand and drive him to use his strength--

No, he can't go back.

Which isn't a total loss, considering how watery and expensive the drinks were, and how his last killing wasn't something to write home to. A wedding band, sitting somewhere in a pawn shop, a couple thousand krona notes, half of it spent on better wine and half going to his saving accounts, and the watch.

Peter picks it up from the bedside table and dangles it. The cubic zirconia twinkles in the lamplight, crowning the black velvet face and drawing the eye to the golden hands. He turns it around and scowls at the designer brand etched in rose gold cursive.

Gacci.

"Stupid unpawnable piece of garbage," Peter grumbles, before he latches his trophy around his wrist.

Though he knows that he's made the right decision, Peter still thrums with loose cannon energy that he must exhaust through some channel, something that beats sitting in a semi-dark room at two in the morning. He turns his wrist back and forth to catch the light in the glass pieces and silver band. Then, his eyes wander to the orange light in the window, to the shadows that filled the frame, a silhouette backdrop of the district he lived in. The immediate neighborhood is artsy and quirky, a mix of contemporary and vintage; white and ultramodern apartments and townhomes, sitting alongside their older but renovated counterparts and shops. But an energy carries from beyond this square, from across the bridge.

Night life. Neon lights. High hemlines and low necklines. Fruity cocktails and smiley face tabs, all bathed in a type of music that stirs the blood and dirties the soul.

Downtown.

How long has it been since Peter got White Boy Wasted?

Peter turns back to his laptop sitting in front of him to finish his online Christmas shopping for the night, then hops off the bed to skip to his closet. He yanks the door open and paws through the clothing on the hangers.

--

Indian red off-shoulder blouse, high-waisted black cut-offs, black ankle-high leather boots. Otherwise known as Peter’s most regrettable decision that night, as snowy winds cut through his winter petticoat during his motorbike ride across the bridge. But Peter doesn’t feel the need to complain about the cold; this weather doesn’t remind him of a home he wants to forget, plus there is something delicious about it, the way the pelting flakes bite into his bare legs and neck that grounds him yet makes him feel like he’s flying. It helps that he can’t feel John’s fingers and lips, anymore.

Upon reaching the other end of the bridge, Peter weaves through the streets, eyeing the picturesque nightlife for action through the whipping curtain of his loose hair. Most of these clubs and bars and cabarets Peter has tried out, and even deemed a couple of them favorite places to frequent. Tonight, however, he wants some new excitement, so he takes a street that leads into the uncharted territory. The gradual contrast between the downtown epicenter and this but of fringe land is stark, almost jarring; here, the blocks are darker, and in that darkness, the more brazen move through the unlit areas like shadowy monsters, these stumbling drunks and partiers high out of their goddamn minds.

He's getting close, he can feel it.

He turns a corner, nodding a greeting at a bunch of leggy people standing around the street sign pole, and almost loses himself in trying to guess if they are hookers or not when something catches his eye.

Up ahead, another nightlife creature stumbled out into the open, but before the darkness swallows her as well, Peter catches the way her silver sequin dress flashes red from the lights blinking in the doorway -- his beacon.

He sweeps his bike into the alley a couple buildings down and hops off, hanging the helmet on a handlebar and briskly walking to the club. He can feel the thrum of the music through the soles of his boots with every step he takes. He stops for a moment in front of the woman, who now slides down against the wall. For someone who isn't wearing any form of winter gear and is sitting in an inch of snow, she is smiling a lot, dreamy and sweet as her gaze is fixed on the dark sky.

"Er..." Peter says, bending down slightly to meet her eye. "Hey, ma'am, are you okay?"

The woman blinks, snapping her attention to him, and her dreamy smile melts even more as she reaches to cup and smoosh his cheeks. "Awww, there's my wittle white wabbit!"

Peter's face scrunches as he tries to understand the slow and slurring Swedish accent, made nearly untranslatable by the cutesy baby talk. "Ha ha, right..." Peter takes her hands off his face and nods toward the door. "Do you want to head back inside where it's warm?"

The woman shakes her head. "'Sokay, rabbit, I'm waiting for my friend!"

Peter gives her a half-frown and shrugs. He unbuttons his coat and takes it off, helping the woman into it. She looks like she'd scream if Peter tries to push the chivalrous act and pressure her to get inside the building.

He makes his way to the door, resisting the need to hug himself and rub at his arms. Once there, he stops himself from yelping as a goddamn giant creeps from around the threshold, crossing his arms over his barreled chest. Peter presses his hand onto his own chest and exhales. "Shit, man, I almost pissed myself!"

"Sorry," says the giant whose deadpanned voice and unchanged expression denote his lack of remorse.

"Hmph." Peter juts his chin at the space behind the bouncer. "So, are you going to let me in, or...?"

"450 krona."

Peter pulls his wallet out from within his shorts. "Drinks covered?"

"Nah, you pay at the bar."

Well, shit, Peter snarks in his head, counting out the money. This place is more high-end than it looks!

"It's 800 even if you want to go to Wonderland."

Peter pauses counting out the bank notes, raising his brow at the giant basking in the red glow. "...What?"

The giant quirks an unkempt eyebrow right back at him, his lips twitching in just the slightest grin. The bouncer offers no explanation, and Peter is instantly sold.

Peter holds out the wad of money to the bouncer. The bouncer reaches for it, but when their hands meet, the bouncer grabs Peter's and turns it over, his thick wrist flashing a tuft of dark hair through his sleeve. Peter only has a split second to let out a shocked and protesting yelp as the bouncer pulls something out of his sports jacket's pocket and stabs it onto Peter's skin.

"What the hell, man?!" Peter screeches, snatching his arm away. He examines the back of his hand for signs of damage, afraid of what he may find. He's only somewhat relieved to find that, besides the pinkish ring marking his skin, there is no bruising, just a slightly smudged and shimmering holographic stamp: a top hat.

Peter's eyes wander back up to the bouncer, whose smile is in full stretch across his face, alight with baffled amusement, tight as he tries to stifle a giggle. Peter wonders if he can get away with knocking a couple of this chucklefuck's front teeth out.

Said chucklefuck then instructs him, "Go to the set of doors at the other end of the club, right behind the platform. Middle door. Down the hall, make a right, and ask for the Mad Hatta at the curtain."

Peter nods and rubs his stamped hand, careful so he doesn’t smudge it further. The bouncer steps to the side and beckons him in.

The entryway feels like a tunnel to an underground bunker, the lights flashing a warning of an attack above ground. If it weren’t for the electropop beating against his skin, or the air of sweat and ecstasy and carelessness so thick that Peter can taste it, he might have succumbed to the images of swooping Luftwaffe aircraft that still haunts the back of his mind.

But, no, tonight, he is not the split and damaged identity of Fort Roughs and the Principality of Sealand; hell, he is not even half-year soldier Peter Kirkland. Tonight, he’s a dumb kid looking for Wonderland.

He descends the gentle slope into the wide, square opening, and he is swallowed whole.

No matter which they dance, everyone seems to move as one, arms waving and jerking high above their heads, bodies drawing to each other even if some of them may be dancing alone, bouncing and swaying and swishing. The sickeningly alluring stench that fills the entrance is now strong with so many different types of alcohol that Peter already feels drunk. The red lights bathes the bumping stereos and the people in a nightmare, and the rare streaks of black and white lights makes everything a euphoric horror movie still frame.

Peter grins as a pleasant tingle of adrenaline zips up his back.

He slips through the crowd, twisting and dodging and ducking. He wants to jump into the fun immediately, especially with a few dancers passing him dreamy smiles and curling their fingers at him when he meets their far-away gazes. But the stamp itches on his hand, and he’s going to take that as a sign from the universe that destiny awaits with this “Mad Hatta” (which is far better than the panic that his body is having an adverse reaction to the ink). He makes his way around the platform centered in the dance floor and notices movement high above him. He glances up and tilts his head curiously at the pairs of heavy duty chains hanging between spotlights on the girder frame.

“Huh...” he mumbles as he continues on. He takes the middle door as instructed, and finds a bit of relief that the hallway has normal, if a bit dimmed, lighting. He wishes something can be done about the sounds cutting through the walls and echoing around the hall, that the party music was loud in here and can cover the sounds of puking, crying, laughing, and moaning that Peter convinces himself was from pain (and blushes something fierce when he hears how breathy it is, and picks up the pace when the woman whimpers deeper. Fuck, deeper.) 

For all this nonsense, Peter’s a tad disappointed that the curtain isn’t some grand thing of red velvet, or a sheer, sexy black thing with gems woven in like the night sky, but a plain white shower curtain. He glances at the stamp. You better be worth it, he scolds internally as he tugs the curtain to the side enough to poke his head in.

“Hello?”

“Your hair wants cutting!”

Peter jumps, his eyes darting around what is nothing more than a walk-in closet filled with mirrors and plants. “Mad Hatta?”

A hand slowly comes from behind one of the antique standing mirrors, holding out a black suede top hat with a long pearl feather. The Mad Hatta twirls into view after, plopping the hat on his head of auburn curls and throwing his arms out in one motion. The silver glitter of his tuxedo sparkle in all the mirrors and on all the plants; Peter gasps at the visual effect.

“The one and only! Oh, come in, come in! Don’t be shy!”

Peter enters and approaches the sparkly man. The Mad Hatta claps and reaches a hand out. “Do you come looking for Wonderland?” Peter places his hand in the other’s outstretched one. The Mad Hatta takes one look at the shimmering stamp on Peter’s skin and claps again, even bouncing on his toes. “Yes! Yes! Oh, my dear, you are in for quite a trip! A magical world awaits you!”

The Mad Hatta reaches into his inner breast pocket and flicks out a white piece of cardstock. He holds it out to Peter with a wink. “Have fun, my wonderful little Alice.”

Peter takes the card and is immediately ushered back out into the hallway. As he walks, he flips the tiny cardstock over. On its other side is a pale pink snowflake, about half the size of the blank business card its adhered to. There’s a black, fancy script printed on the top, in a font that’s made to look like whimsical vines and leaves:

TAKE ONE ONLY!

Peter rubs a thumb over the snowflake, nibbling his bottom lip in so deep a thought that he, blessedly, misses the woman’s climatic cry. He thinks about going back to the Mad Hatta and demand to know what type of drug this is and what it’s made of; he thinks about the two steps forward and five steps back he’s taken recently; he thinks about the recent danger he’d put himself and that man in in that hotel room. He thinks about Penelope’s recent confession to being an addict and wonders if, like Peter once upon a time, she’s picked up a bad habit of self-medicating her trauma from the only adult figures she’s ever known. (Shit, does Peter share in that guilt, and not just as an unwitting supplier and victim of theft?)

He pushes out into the dance floor and eyes the platform that stands like the altar in England, and Peter thinks back to the confession. He remembers the gut-grinding terror of his tantrum blowing up in his face, and how he couldn’t even face Ollie without ten walls of intoxication barricading him. 

Peter is suddenly tired. He wants to go home.

He also remembers that this shit had cost three hundred fifty krona.

He peels the pink snowflake off and lays it on his tongue.

It all hits his palette at once from so many directions. The snowflake turns into fluff, and it tastes like powdered sugar. The strong, cool minty taste makes him shiver, and for a minute, Peter’s mouth goes numb and tingly. It travels up to his nostrils, so that when he inhales, he’s taking in a whiff of winter air.

He waits until the powder dissolves and licks his lips. Spearmint cotton candy.

With a quick shake of his arms and shoulders, Peter hops right into the fray and invites the music to draw him in. The meld of industrial techno metal makes the harsh red lights even more jarring, but at least this combo makes more sense than with the bubbly electropop. Plus, somehow, this mix is easier to take in. The guttural scream bites into his bones; the synths make his blood boil; the bass pounds against his chest and makes it hard to breath or slow the stammer of his heart. He’s suffocating, drowning in the heavy sensual air all over again. He’s not Fort Roughs, he’s not Sealand.

Hell, he’s not even Peter Kirkland. 

He’s not human (though, was he ever human?). He’s an unidentifiable mass within this large pool of energy, an entity feeling like he’s going to melt every time someone brushes against his bare legs and shoulders. He leans into that melting sensation, swishing and swaying up and down, throwing up his arms and flicking his wrist, tossing his already-damp hair. He doesn’t fight whoever rubs their hand along his hips and guides him close. He grinds and bumps against them, even if their body heat against his back and ass makes him want to collapse. He’s taking in so much heat from all around him, but when he breathes, he breathes pleasantly cold air. He breaks apart from his dance partner to throw his head back and breathe. He opens his eyes.

“...Holy shit,” he gasps, because everything is fucking beautiful. 

Nothing changes -- Peter is aware of that, yet everything feels... pastel. Odd, but in a fairytale way. The flashing lights lose some of their harshness, and look like they were cast down from heaven itself. Everything has a softness to their edges; Peter squints, and he sees a gentle, golden aura around everyone. White spots flicker in his vision like falling snow, kissing the cheeks of the dancers around him; is that why everyone’s cheeks are so rosy? He reaches to catch one of the dots, but it sinks into his palm. He lets his hand fall to his side, lets the music hug him like a wool blanket. No one pays attention to the new Alice with his neck craned back and the familiar dazed look in his eyes, or the chuckle that’s drowned out by the music. But they welcome him back into their bubble when he resumes slithering like a cat in heat.

Someone grabs his wrist and whips him around, yanking Peter against them. Happily skipping through Wonderland, Peter has lost some of his quick reflexes, and fights back too late when the person grabs the back of his head and smashes their mouths together. He jolts when the person stabs their tongue into his mouth, and hell no! Wonderland may be loosening everything in him, but Peter is not going to do the tongue-battling-for-dominance thing with some crazed freak.

He gets his hands between their torsos to push this person away, but then the minty cotton candy coats his tongue, and he presses further into this person. His hands roam up and down their chest, and he’s surprised to feel soft bumps through the tank top. He’s further surprised that this person letting him squeeze. They pull apart for Peter to find a dark rivulet running from their nostril. He should feel revulsion, but he takes out his handkerchief to wipe it off, spins this person -- this person with around twenty pounds of muscle and five inches of height on him -- and pulls them in, snaking his hand from their hip to underneath their shirt, feeling their abs tighten under his touch the higher up he went.

Peter pauses, thinking of going down, of undoing their belt and sliding his fingers, inexperienced and eager as they are, in their waistband, and forget his stupid rule to protect the last bit of self-worth he has and coax this person to the back room. Then the lights blink faster, the music goes slower. The crowd turns and cheers, converge to the center. The person turns and pushes Peter along, forcing him into the tide that crash around the platform. The rainbow spotlights -- actual rainbow spotlights, not supposedly white ones seen through the eyes of an Alice -- sweep around. Four people stand like sentries by the chains, arms crossed, smiling as people clamor around them.

The crowd hoists a petite woman in sharp stilettoes onto the platform. She’s rocking and nearly tilts over, but the stagehand steadies her, lifts her arms, and fixes her wrists into the chains’ loops. Next, the epitome of gay bears  climbs right on, serving everyone his double scoops of ass in soft leather pants and nothing else that Peter can see. His thick wrists goes into the chain loops, too. The crowd is screaming and pumping their fists. Peter cups his hands around his mouth and howls as the third tribute, another Amazonian in a skintight leopard jumpsuit, gets chained. 

He’s bouncing on his toes, watching with wide eyes as he awaits the fourth person. He doesn’t care that burning hands are grabbing his legs and his ass. In fact, he’s bouncing so much that he’s somehow flying up to the stage, carried on the vibrating cheer of the crowd. He trips on his feet, but the man catches him and turns him so he’s facing the same way as the others. The man takes Peter’s wrists and yanks them up above Peter’s head. The chains have an odd coolness to them, and their chill runs through Peter’s body. The man slides his palms down Peter’s arms, stopping at Peter’s waist. The man brings his mouth to Peter’s ear. The music is just about to pick back up.

“Dance, queen.”

The stagehands hop off the platform, the music eats into Peter’s flesh, and he dances. He twists the chains around for a better grip, and the links bite into him. He feels the chains clink as he throws himself around, as he jerks and thrusts and twists and drops and jumps. Even with his eyes closed and his head hanging, Peter can see the red and black lights. The couple times he cracks his eyes opens, he spots phones lifted high in the air, horizontal and aimed at them. A spike of panic shoots up in him, but then things start to blur and brighten. He tastes the minty spun sugar in the back of his throat, feels it take on a second wave. 

His skin is on fire. His skin is a layer of burning ice that he wants to claw off, but he wants more of it. He wants more until he can’t feel John’s fingers anymore. He wants to be blazing until the shame and belittlement of the other representations don’t even matter, anymore. He wants to be set on fire until he can forget that he's been promised forever, that that promise was broken, and his fort will fall apart and he’s going to become a slowly dying human. He wants to become a pile of ash before this cheering crowd, before circumstance claims him first. He wants to forget about dead stars eating his soul once his time is up. Shit, let him be a dying star!

Peter stiffens his arms and swings up his legs until he’s upside down. The moves he pulls are just as familiar on the chains as they are on the aerial silks, though they are harder to achieve because the damn things don't swivel on ball bearings. But he angles his body and locks his feet and legs and arms when they need to, contorting his body into art. He doesn't even see the crowd, anymore. Not the spotlights nor the chains. It's all lost in the burning cold fuzz of golden white.

It's over too soon, and the stagehand works to undo the locked mess of Peter's chains. He frees Peter and wraps an arm around the dancer to catch him from collapsing. "You did great, sweetheart," he cooed, getting ready to help Peter off the stage. But there's a hesitance in his voice that Peter catches; he feels a hand through the blizzard around him cup his face and tilts it up. The man's eyes appears through the blizzard, hardens, and disappears as he swears.

"Fuck. Hey! Hey! This one's blitzed out!"

He's swept into the snowstorm. His vision winks in and out: the stagehand carrying him bridal-style -- Mad Hatta clicking his tongue and shaking his head -- another of the stagehands shooing half-dressed club-goers out the restroom. In the white, Peter hears snapping rubber. He feels the rubber curling into his mouth and tastes latex in the back of his throat.

"Why do I always have to do this?" Groans a faceless voice.

The latex shoves in deeper, and it burns -- oh shit, it burns! -- coming back up. Peter's body jerks and his lungs heave, his throat contracting around the fingers and his stomach getting sicker from the bitter taste.

"Okay, buddy," the voice says. "There we go. Let it all out."

How much does Peter have to let out? He's sure that it isn't much considering he had skipped dinner, but it takes forever for it to end. But it does ends, with the blinding snowstorm disappearing. Peter's greeted by a disgusting toilet coated with his Pepto Bismo pink puke, and cool tiles under his knees. He's twitching and shivering, his teeth chattering despite still feeling like there's a fire in his core.

"You okay?" Someone asks over his shoulder. Peter tries to nod or say yes, but his jaw is locked tight, his voice is frozen in his chest. Peter can hear the man snapping the glove off and unzipping something. Peter has no energy to protest being pulled into a body for the third time that night, but he's relieved when he's taken into the man's jacket and sheltered in the body heat instead. So they sit like that, Peter tremoring against this man's chest, his body fighting to keep the freezing magic in him.

"Gail should be back soon with your blanket and water," the man says. Peter misses his guy's smoother, more fun and enticing tone on the platform. Dance, queen. This voice is too different and too serious, too clinical, when he asks, "How many snowflakes did you take?"

Peter sighs and slumps against him. "Only two."

"You're supposed to have only one at a time," the man scolds. He gently taps Peter's cheek. "Stay up. You need to get some water first. Do you have any friends who can drive you home?"

Peter, try as he might, only manages a head shake, before his head lolls back on the man's shoulder.

The man lifts Peter's head and lightly slaps his cheeks once more. "Okay, you'll need a cot, too, then."

Thank goodness Gail returns, wrapping the wool blanket around Peter and forcing him to suck down half a bottle of water. The two club workers half-carry Peter out of the middle door and into the rightmost one, into a stretch of whitewashed tunnel lined with cots on both sides. Here, they lay him down on the cot under the watching eye of guards.

Peter curls up on his side and tucks his hands under his head. With a gentle smile on his face, Peter falls asleep in the world blanketed in soft white.

[iloverubberduckiez-blog]

Taehyung fluff drabble

 A/N: I wrote this drunk yesterday shut in on lockdown cause of the ‘rona.( I'm not gonna fix it and make it better lol I'm hungover now haha) I might start writing again. I never posted on Tumblr for my writing but I might just do an OT7 series soon- anyway tribute to my hubby

“Y/N.”

You didn’t bother to look up and acknowledge him. He sighed and sat down. The boys had just come back from a promotional tour. You had wanted to come along but Taehyung was insistent that you stay home and relax. You had just recently flown in from your travels in Peru and Zambia. You were still combating jet lag but since there was a shower on the plane, you expected to follow along with the boys on the way to their next commercial which you knew was at 11am after your pick up- 2 hours after your landing- just enough time to leave your things, greet your Pups and catch up with the members on the drive over. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend was having none of it.

This- this is different because it’s the first time since living together you have been apart for more than 6 weeks and it was putting a real strain on you. Of course didn’t tell Taehyung – you were really feeling the media crackdown on you because Dispa- certain companies made it seem like you were out galivanting instead of caring for your relationship, whereas they didn’t know half the story. There were already so many things going on with you in your personal life this fight with him upon arrival was just the topper to the cake.(Even if you are totally to blame)

You greet the other boys and Tae sulks on the couch at the back, not unnoticed by Jimin.

“Are you going to tell me or just shoot daggers all night?”

“Go away hyung.”

“But won’t you at least-”

Taehyung gets up and to his delight one of the managers comes in and informs them that the boys have to leave.

“I’m going with noona, Tae and Hobi-ah”

Jimin smiles and loops his arm around yours. He hopes that he can help you two get over your issues and he can go back to hanging with his favourite couple. He knows that with sunshine Hosoek by his side they can bring you guys back to normal. This is the first time in a while you guys have openly fought and Jimin knows its still fresh because just two days ago you and Taehyung were on the phone up for hours. He knows because your 20 min quick chat lasted until 3am, when the two of you eventually fell asleep on each other after you decided to stream the same stupid movie because you wanted to not talk and ‘spend time together’ (how you can do that online properly?- heck if he knew but it kept you guys happy and Tae sane on days he was missing you so bad he opted to fly home to fetch you.)

“I’ll see you guys later; I’m not feeling so well”. When the members look at you in concern, you try appeasing them with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Namjoon frowns. He knows you and Tae had some sort of argument given that you had barley arrived for 10 mins before the two of you acted like you needed to be in separate rooms to breathe air.

“I’ll meet you there.”

Taehyung stated and went to grab a drink from the fridge.

Your lip twitched, you wanted to protest but also were not in the mood to make a scene

Sejin Nods and motions for the other boys to move towards the parking lot.

Once the boys had left Taehyung approached you with a bottle of water and a coke for himself before he perched himself on the opposite side of the couch, you found yourself on.

“babe,I thought you were cutting down on Coke”

“I also thought you weren’t talking to me Jagiya”

Taehyung moves closer offering to open the bottle for you as you were struggling. Once he had it you snatched it and gulped so fast you started choking. He patted your back until you caught your breath then kept his hand there tracing delicate patterns, just enjoying your presence. He was hoping you wouldn’t flinch away but he kept his hand there to give you the comfort he knew you needed.

Ignoring his question you closed the bottle of water after another sip and placed it on the table.

“You’ll be late for your photoshoot”

“who cares?”

“shouldn’t you? it's important.”

“This is more important”

“This?”

“You are important Y/N”

You felt his intense gaze on you and realised he had moved his hand from your back to couple it with his other in aid of holding your face in between his hands. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and let go. You rushed to grab his left hand and cradled it in between both of your hands kissing it softly in return before resting it on your lap. He interlaced one hand with yours and used his other arm to pull you into his side, resting his chin on your head atop your head (using his height advantage over you to cover you).

“I’m sorry.”

“No Tae I'm sorry.”

You sat up and saw the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I knew he liked me from before and when I got the news that the flight was early to land, since we were already together from  the shoot when he offered to take me home I just took his offer without much thought, other than I would see you sooner. But when I got home and he offered to bring my bags in my room and then you were already gone I guess he thought he could make his move, so he kissed me and then I saw you and then soon everyone was here and I-”

“shh it’s okay”

Tae wiped the tears falling from your eyes. His own threatening to spill if you didn’t stop soon.

“There are already stupid articles and rumours that have been going around that I’m just hooking up with anyone and-”

“I told you to stop reading those, they’ll post anything to make money Jagi. I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating and for being a possessive asshole when all you wanted to do was spend time with me after so long.”

“So you were listening, I thought you were too busy yelling and throwing hands” you chuckled and he laughed with you.

“I’m sorry, you are sorry and now we are okay”

He bops your nose but your smile drops as your hands reached up to his face to see the bruise slowly starting to take form.

“well yeah but honestly who are you Kookie? Why were you trying to box him out?”

“Because he was trying to take my world from me.”

Taehyung pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

[kenyatta]

Last summer, New York City’s health department announced a milestone: For 2017, life expectancy had reached 81.2 years, up a full year over a decade. “Premature mortality”— people dying before their natural lifespan — was down nearly 15 percent since 2008. Though the city can seem chaotic and dangerous to Americans outside the region, New York’s life expectancy was better than the nation’s, which, at 78.6 years, had stagnated over the same decade.

How have so many New Yorkers been able to enjoy, in many individual cases, extra years and even decades of life? One big factor is its transit system — now demonized, in the words of Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, as “the perfect Petri dish [in] a very urban environment.”

Until this pandemic, though — which has taken the lives of at least 83 transit workers — the transit system was responsible for saving hundreds of lives a year in New York City. Last year, New York had 221 traffic deaths, with the number having fallen steadily from a record high of 701 in 1990. Largely thanks to its largest city, New York State’s traffic fatality rate is 4.8 per 100,000, just a third of Florida 14.7 deaths per 100,000.

This remarkable success over nearly three decades is partly the result of traffic safety improvements like crackdowns on drunk driving, new bike lanes, pedestrianized plazas, and speed and-red light cameras. But the biggest factor is mass transit: 6 million people a day can travel without having to get into an automobile.