#and in fact people lean on nationalism more and more because of the current state of international affairs and to some level it's needed

[fitzrove]

studying for an exam and haunted by this.....

[2oosterr]

capt. ryan 'orca' murdoch

-> Playlist

GENERAL

NAME: Ryan Murdoch

ALIASES: Orca, Oscar Actual

AFFILIATION: United States Navy, OSOD

RANK: Captain

DOB: March 6th, 1978

AGE: 45

GENDER: F

BLOOD TYPE: B NEG

SEXUALITY: Queer unlabeled

HOMETOWN: Rockland, Maine

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Redcorn Airfield, Odessa, Texas

NATIONALITY: USAmerican

EDUCATION HISTORY: K-12 [1983 - 1991]

EMPLOYMENT HISTORY: US Naval Aviator (Commander) [1994 - 2011], PMC Operator (Captain) [2011 - Present]

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 182cm (5’9”)

WEIGHT: 170 lbs

EC: Brown

HC: Black, White

BUILD: Athletic, prominent muscle definition

SKILLS

[23/30]

Strength:             ▮▮▮▯▯

Speed:                ▮▮▮▯▯

Intelligence:        ▮▮▮▮▯

Experience:        ▮▮▮▮▮

Perception:         ▮▮▮▮▮

Communication: ▮▮▮▯▯

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English (Native), Spanish (C1), Russian (B2), ASL

SPECIALISATION: Can pilot almost any aircraft, including helicopters and the C-130.

WEAPONS: Proficient in close combat, hand-to-hand, air-to-air, and air-to-land combat. Long range is a weak point.

RELATIONSHIPS

Alison Murdoch [Mother] [AGE: 66]

Louis Murdoch [Father] [DECEASED]

Aaron Murdoch [Brother] [AGE: 34]

PSYCHOLOGY

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

Anger management issues

Chronic alcoholism

MEDICAL

GSW on right side of face

3rd degree burns on right arm

Dog bite scar on left arm

ENHANCEMENT

[GRADE 4 - Extremely Low Risk]

Individual had demonstrated the ability to walk on liquid. Note that individual can submerge in the same liquid when contact point is not the feet.

PERSONALITY

MBTI type – ISTJ-A; Introverted, observant, thinking, judging, assertive.

Orca is a natural leader despite her introversion. She commands attention, even from those who aren't willing to follow her, unafraid to put such people in their place with harsh words and biting insults. Her introversion leans more to the ambivert side of things, she prefers the quiet of solitude over a loud social function, but socialising is not out of her comfort zone, and she would never be afraid to speak up and voice her opinions.

The ends always justify the means to Orca. She is willing to do risky, and sometimes deplorable, things to complete her objective, leaving some to question her morality, but those close to her trust that she knows where to draw the line. She's self-assured, confident to the point of cockiness at times, because she's good and she knows it. 

The opinions of others mean very little to her, with the exception of the few people she calls her friends – she cares deeply for those select few. It takes a lot for her to trust, and a lot more to consider someone a friend, but once you've proved yourself, her loyalty is fierce. It’s incredibly difficult, but not impossible, to lose her faith.

Even when she was in the Navy, Orca has never been a fan of authority. It takes effort to earn her respect, which many of her commanding officers never did. In a way, this makes her slightly hypocritical, seeing as she demands respect from those around her but doesn't give it so easily.

Although she appears to be a serious, no-nonsense Captain, under the stony facade Orca actually has a strong sense of humour. She's more than willing to indulge in the jokes her soldiers throw around, but she still reserves the ability to take things seriously when the need arises.

FUN FACTS

Orca learned to play the drums as a way to de-stress. She learned in bootcamp from one of the older kids, and kept it up when she could in the Navy.

Her biggest pet peeve is stupid questions. She’s been known to make people run laps until the sun goes down for not using common sense.

The streaks in her hair are due to a bout of Alopecia Areata that she suffered from for most of her childhood, likely stress induced, and when the patches of hair grew back, they were white. She also has a patch of white where her neck meets her skull, but she keeps that one hidden because she doesn’t think it's as cool as the other two.

Her hair is also the reason for her callsign, since it looks vaguely like the markings on a killer whale, especially when she wears it up.

Her favourite colour is red.

She owns an ungodly amount of orca plushies.

On a similar note, she also owns an ungodly amount of model figures of fighter jets.

She’s obsessed with Top Gun. Like, balls to the wall fucking insane about it.

Like, she references it daily.

Yes, it was the reason she joined the navy. She is not immune to propaganda

Orca actually attended the real TOPGUN in Nevada in 2000, and graduated top of her class.

In 2016, she bought a decommissioned F-22 Raptor thanks to an Admiral friend of hers, and has been slowly refurbishing it in her off time. She keeps it in hangar two, and nobody else is even allowed to go in there.

She does all the repairs to the OSODs aircrafts herself.

BACKGROUND

Ryan's fate was decided before she was even born.

Her mother, Alison, was known to carry the gene for a genetic disorder and as a result, when she was pregnant with Ryan, she opted for a genetic screening to see if it would be passed down to her. It wasn't, but it's thanks to this genetic screening that they found out Ryan carried the NLH gene – the enhanced gene.

From the moment she was born, it seemed that her parents had already given up on her. Neglectful would be an understatement, there was no love in the way they cared for her. It was nothing but a chore to them, having to raise their mutant child when all they wanted was a normal baby.

Her father died when she was five. Shipped out to Iraq in ‘83 and never came back. Her mother shut down after that.

Growing up was difficult. Rockland was a small enough town that most, if not all, of the inhabitants knew about the fact that she was enhanced. She spent the majority of her childhood alone, being avoided by her peers and ignored by her mother, and becoming more and more bitter as the years went by.

She was eight when she finally discovered what her enhancement was; the ability to walk on water. It's a cruel joke, that she never even had a fleeting chance at a normal life because of something so insignificant.

When Ryan was eleven, her half-brother Aaron was born, and she got to witness firsthand what it looks like when someone loves you. Her mother was a completely different person once she brought him home, smiling and cooing adoringly at her infant brother. The resentment for both of them would never leave her.

Enhanced individuals, as the official paperwork refers to them, are required to serve in the military whether they like it or not. Mandatory service, starting at sixteen, and ending when you die. There is no choice, not for those who are deemed sub-human because of a genetic mutation completely out of anyone's control.

Despite the unfairness of it all, Ryan was shipped off to bootcamp a few months after her thirteenth birthday. It was easier there, surprisingly; there were other enhanced kids – people like her, for the first time in her life – and the structure and regiment of it all was something she actually found herself enjoying. The one aspect she struggled with was the demanding authority. She has never been with being told what to to, being a follower, especially by people she has no reason to respect apart from their rank. Her commanding officers were just like every other adult that had failed her thus far, and she earned more than a few disciplinaries for the insubordination of her outbursts of anger.

The three years she spent there helped Ryan for some sense of identity. It was strange, and bittersweet in a way, but she thrived in the military – had she not been conscripted, she may have even joined of her own accord.

The only sense of choice people like Ryan are given is the liberty of choosing which branch of the military they go to, so when she finally reached her sixteenth birthday in the March of ‘94, Ryan picked the Navy. She was on the plane to California the next day.

Once again, her entire life and any sense of structure she had was thrown to the wind. The Navy was harder, she was alone again and this time she had no idea if she was the only one of her kind; outing herself as enhanced didn’t seem like the best idea, especially since being a woman already put a target on her head. They looked down on her, endlessly questioned her abilities with an arrogance that made her blood boil, but Ryan was determined. She would be an aviator, and she’d be leagues better than all the people who thought they were above her – no amount of discouragement from them could change her mind.

It was in the academy that she met her first true friend, Michael ‘Berlin’ Addams. He was Ryan’s wingman, her partner in the skies, and the only person in her life to accept her unconditionally and without question. From the moment they met it was like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, his easygoing and humorous nature was the complete opposite of Orca’s quick temper, but they worked incredibly together like two sides of the same coin.

After Orca and Berlin graduated from the academy, placed first and fourth respectively, the two of them quickly rose through the ranks together, thanks to their raw talent for aviation as well as the synergy they had. They were best friends, practically inseparable, and though there were others they got along with, no one else came close to the bond that they had. For the longest time it was just the two of them, but the incident of March 1999 changed that.

While offshore on a deployment, someone found out Orca was enhanced, and word spread around the aircraft carrier faster than she could’ve imagined. She lashed out, broke another pilot's nose, and had to mop the floors for two months as punishment. While she was cleaning she was approached by one of the sailors, Eric Reyton she would come to learn. He extended an olive branch, and almost got his head bitten off before he revealed that he was enhanced too. It was a relief, learning that she wasn’t the only one, she finally had someone who really understood again. Berlin did his best, but he would never truly know what it was like.

From then on, it was the three of them. Orca, Berlin, and Eric – Static, as they took to calling him – and for the first time she actually started to feel like she belonged. The boys were like brothers to her, the family she never had, and life finally felt like it was looking up after all those long, lonely years.

And then Berlin died.

Shot down over land while they were on assignment. He didn't even have time to eject before he hit the ground.

Orca thought she knew pain. Unloved by her own mother, alone for the first sixteen years of her life, rejected by almost everyone she'd ever met, none of it had been easy; but as she watched Berlin's plane disappear into the treeline, nothing could've prepared her for the agony that ripped through her chest.

The rest felt like an out of body experience. She ejected, sparing not a single though for her own plane as it went down too. The landing fractured her ankle but she ran anyway, through the forest towards the blaze. She clambered up the wing of his aircraft, ripping the cockpit open and paying no mind to the way the searing metal burned through her flight suit and then her skin.

She pulled his body from the wreck, collapsing onto the ground with his lifeless body cradled in her arms. That's how the evac team found her, hours later, still sobbing into his cold skin.

His body went back to his family in New Jersey, but Orca kept his tags. She stayed standing over his coffin for hours after everyone else had left, everyone but Eric. Nobody was closer to Berlin than they were. Nobody understood the gaping hole his death left behind.

They were approached, after night had fallen and they were on their way out of the graveyard. The stranger handed Orca a card and introduced herself – Colonel Ellis – telling her to call when they needed a change of scenery. Eric had to restrain her from clawing the Colonel's eyes out for her audacity.

After the funeral, Orca finally understood how her mother felt when her dad didn't come home. There was nothing that could help the pain, the anguish of losing her best friend, so she drank herself into blackout numbness to escape it. Eric tried to help her, but it only ended in her lashing out. It went on like that for months, the only time she wasn't wasted was on the aircraft carrier where she had no choice. In a desperate attempt to help his friend, Eric ended up calling the Colonel to get them both out of California.

They found out on the flight to Texas that the Colonel was starting a PMC solely for the enhanced. The 'Occult Special Operations Division', she called it, a counter-terrorism taskforce. At first Orca was sceptical, the idea of it seemed almost too good to be true, but Colonel Ellis's achievements spoke for themselves. She was a decorated officer, and there was no doubt she had the power and resources to create something like this.

For a year, Orca and Eric served under Colonel Ellis in the OSOD, along with Lieutenant Klaus Green, Corporal Badger, both marines, and Lieutenant Nina ‘Vulture’ Smith, an Air Force pilot and all soldiers Ellis had worked with for a long time. It was better, being surrounded by people like them, and the freedom they had now was infinitely better than what they had in the Navy, but they were still out of their element. While Ellis, Green, Badger were marines and had decades of experience with active combat and its many intricacies, Orca and Eric were just a pilot and a sailor. Still though, Ellis didn't give up on them. They learned surprisingly fast under her mentorship, picking up what she taught them with ease, and though they were still miles behind the marines, their skills were impressive.

In 2011, Ellis was arrested.

The NLH gene is a random mutation, not something that can be isolated and cut out like a genetic disorder. However, if at least one parent carries the NLH gene, then the offspring are guaranteed to be enhanced as well. Starting in the 70s, sterilisation became mandatory for the enhanced, the same as conscription, as another way to control the enhanced population. Colonel Ellis was born in the late 50s, and conscripted in the 60s; in other words, she evaded sterilisation.

It came out that she had a daughter, around Orca's age, and action was taken almost immediately. Colonel Ezikiel Ellis died two months after her incarceration. The details of her death were never released.

Her death was different. It was obvious foul play was involved, but Ellis's death didn't affect her the same way Berlin's devastated her. This time, she got the feeling Ellis had reached her time, that she'd accomplished what she set out to do in her life, and now it was Orca’s duty to carry on her legacy.

She took over the OSOD as Captain as soon as Ellis's death was publicised. Now down to just the three of them, it seemed like a logical course of action to find some new recruits, and it didn't take long to find some. Ellis's daughter, Sergeant Major Arctic, came to Orca shortly after she took over the OSOD, but despite it being her mother's creation, she showed no interest in taking Orca's place. She agreed to work alongside the OSOD, but remained a free agent.

In the same year, they met Sergeants Eastwood and Vantage, marines like Ellis and Green, and most importantly, both enhanced. They were by far the best of their unit and then some, with expertise between them from insertions to engineering. She hired them on the spot.

Orca got the scar in 2012. A mission gone south, an attempt to save a group of hostages, and a crack shot from the enemy. She took a bullet to the face. If she wasn't enhanced, there was no way she would've made it. As luck would have it, if you could call it that, a doctor was among the hostages, and saved Orca's life that night – Honey Rosenheim, an enhanced combat medic who would work with the OSOD for years to come after their unfortunate first encounter.

██████ ██████ ██ █████████ ████ ██████ ███████ █████. █████████ ███████ ██████ █ █████ ████ ██████ ████████. ████ ███████ ███ ██████ █ ██ ██████ █ █████ Badger ███ ███████ █████ █████████ ████ ███████ ██ █████ ██ ██████ █ █████ ██ █████. Badger ███ ████████ M.I.A. ██ ████ 2014.

[CONTENT REDACTED: SEE MISSION REPORT JUNE 11 2014]

It's 2019 by the time Orca meets Captain Price, through Kate Laswell and, surprisingly, their mutual friend, Nikolai. To say he didn't make a good first impression would be an understatement. Perhaps it's because of Orca's natural hostility and standoffish nature, but the two Captains butted heads constantly. Eventually he realised – with gentle nudging from Eric and the lieutenants – that she wasn't just an asshole for the sake of it, and she was actually a proficient leader. She slowly warmed up to him once she didn't have to fight for his respect.

Since the mission in 2018, the OSOD has collaborated with Captain Price, and subsequently Task Force 141, on multiple occasions.

It took significant work, but Orca was an accomplished Captain, with loyal soldiers and the ability to actually make a difference in the world. Her fate may have been decided before she was born, but Ryan is the one who made something for herself. She still has Berlin's picture hanging up in her office.

[mswyrr]

We are currently getting a terrifying preview of what all this would look like in practice. Trump has never shied away from admitting – from promising – that his mass deportation “will be a bloody story.” And the leaders on the Right are currently doing their best to ensure that there will be blood long before the election.

On September 9, J.D. Vance used his social media to rail against “Haitian illegal immigrants draining social services and generally causing chaos all over Springfield, Ohio.” He added: “Reports now show that people have had their pets abducted and eaten by people who shouldn't be in this country. Where is our border czar?”

Vance was leaning into a long-established racist trope used to vilify immigrant communities since at least the late nineteenth century: They are eating our pets! He wasn’t the only one to focus on immigrants from Haiti in Springfield, Ohio: Neo-Nazi groups have been targeting them for quite some time – it is not surprising, although it remains shocking, that Vance, who is extremely in tune with those circles, thought it was a good idea to join them. And as soon as Vance gave them a target, leading Republicans echoed his baseless claims, and the rightwing activist sphere went all in.

Over the next few days, Vance kept doubling down. On September 10, he claimed a child had been murdered by “a Haitian immigrant who had no right to be here.” The senator from Ohio did not care that the child’s parents begged him to stop using their boy, who was killed in a car accident, to demonize immigrants.

Vance even admitted on television that his claims did not stand up to scrutiny. And yet, he felt completely justified in spreading vile lies. In a CNN interview, he said: “If I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people then that’s what I’m going to do.” Vance does not feel bound by facts – his allegiance is to a Higher Truth, one defined by the blood-and-soil project: The homeland is under siege, overrun with enemies who “poison the blood.” This tale of decline and peril overrides petty facts and superficial reality.

Donald Trump, never one to be burdened by truth and honesty, has joined Vance in trying to incite a pogrom. In a speech in Tuscon, Arizona on September 13, Trump declared: “We will do large deportations from Springfield, Ohio, large deportations. We’re going to get these people out, we’re bringing them back to Venezuela.” (Yes, Venezuela, for some reason.) According to Trump, “illegal Haitian migrants have descended upon a town of 58,000 people destroying their way of life.” The day before, also in Tuscon, Trump had raged: “I am angry about young American girls being raped and sodomized and murdered by savage alien criminals.”

This vile propaganda has had its desired effect. Already on September 12, City Hall, schools, and the DMV in Springfield had to be evacuated because of bomb threats from people raging against the Haitian immigrants. Acts of vandalism against the Haitian community followed. More threats against elementary and middle schools as well as against public officials on September 13. On September 14 and 15, hospitals had to be evacuated – so did universities, as someone threatened to shoot members of the Haitian community on campus. Ohio State Troopers now sweep every building in every school in Springfield Ohio, every morning before the start of classes, looking for explosives, because the bomb threats keep coming. Meanwhile, neo-Nazis are marching through town – the Proud Boys, and a group called Blood Tribe. Life in Springfield, Ohio upended. All based on a lie.

[guardiansing]

Throughout the progression of the Israeli IDF bombing of the Gaza Strip, I was surprised to see people I had connected to and people I trusted become either supportive or indifferent to the Israeli government. These people, whom I saw as fellow left-leaning folks, staggeringly began siding with the neo-conservative lens regarding Palestine. They say that the Israeli government is our ally and so excuse the actions of the US government, that it is simply our foreign policy as if our foreign policy is an absolute we must all respect and uphold to. They refuse to engage in learning about the history, modern or otherwise, simply because it makes them uncomfortable. They say It is unhealthy to engage in something so depressing all of the time, it is unhealthy to be agitating all of the time. The people suffering do not care if you are talking about them, and so it is best that we do not talk about them at all. We will do anything to push back against the people talking about it, we will do anything to avoid uncomfortable conversations about our shared reality, we will do anything to suppress it.

For better or worse this is the prevailing opinion I have seen in many of my circles, often those who even if they oppose the Israeli government feel that the situation is out of their hands. They continue to tell themselves that it is a foreign conflict and nothing more, and for that reason we are abstained from discussing it. To them, the most notable thing about this humanitarian crisis is that it is depressing to talk about and so would rather keep it silent. To them it is simply a fad that will go away naturally with time

Within my circles and communities, it is largely people of color, myself included, who continue showing support for the end of the invasion. To us, this is not a foreign conflict, nor is it justified by US foreign policy. To us it is the very same battle that people have been fighting ever since this country was first settled. What many Palestinians are experiencing and in fact what they have been experiencing for 80 years is not imaginary to us, it is not a statistic. We have experienced it, we know what it is like. Our wound is not so old.

I have watched on as white people within the queer community who claimed to be leftists, people who agitate for the equality of gay and trans people, grow silent in the discussion of class and race segregation. Refuse to acknowledge their material conditions or analyze their personal biases, believing in their white guilt that their queerness and/or ability at relying progressive sounding rhetoric abstains them from the blind spots of privilege. They will say that criticizing the Israeli government is anti-semantic and so they reveal that they do not see Jewish people as being truly human and non-monolithic, but instead as a race of people to whom suffering and oppression are inherent. A people to whom their government is endemic to their nation.

They reveal that they are not indeed leftists as they may claim, but instead are liberals. People believing supremely in their individual liberties and comforts. They see the world as consisting of good and bad teams, the oppressor and the oppressed instead of actions, effects, and contexts. They oppose every war except the current one and support every movement except the current one. They say it all when they describe Hamas as a terrorist group and Likud as Likud.

At the very least, they see the cause as being lost and so have already fallen into a state of depressive apathy. They are not evil, they aren't bad people. They have been hurt before and do not see a lost cause as something worth spending energy on. In an apathetic world such as ours it is easy for you yourself to become apathetic. We have very little power in what we can do as individuals. As a collective we theoretically have all the power in the world. But some have chosen to give away all their power entirely, opting for the comfort of their ivory tower.

Were Donald Trump to win the next election and the GOP preceded to do all the things promised in project 2025, I wonder if the people who hold these beliefs would be the freedom partisans they claim they'd be.

Or would they do nothing and instead choose to wallow in their apathy, seeing the cause as lost and letting it go by.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

I don't know what it is about Rammstein that makes people lose all critical thinking skills, but for decades now people have been happy to take a look at them and decide that they are "bad news". And, in this, I only reference people's attitude to their performances, let alone the allegations.

It frustrates me because it makes me feel insane! Irony and satire are ignored and better sense abandoned for the sake of sensation! Rammstein are often accused of creating dumb shock just for reaction, but it is not them I see exploiting that technique right now.

The current narrative being sold makes it out as if Rammstien, and Till in particular, are some grand evil, regardless of the actual facts of the matter and despite the fact that the evil figure they've created lacks the mundanity of truth. They are human, not fuckin demons.

Actually examining the facts as we currently have them makes me conclude that this is such a non-story that perhaps these exaggerations are a compensation by the media to try and justify their harsh prejudice. Its all so ridiculous....

Anyway, I hope the investigation is done thoroughly and that the unadulterated truth will come to light. Then, final judgement can finally be passed....

I agree that for those who watch Rammstein closely, there are whole loads of nuances and twists they use that makes 'what it appears to be' different from what it actually turns out to be. The song Links 2 3 4 is for me always a great example, starting with the sound of marching boots, that many (especially in Germany) would associate with the army, and in Germany post WWII (which caused a national trauma that many still find it difficult to come to terms with imo) the leap to the right-wing German Third Reich period is quickly made, when in actual fact the song is about the band being much more 'left wing leaning, if they are political inclined at all. The same with the Deutschland video, which imo wouldn't be out of place on the curriculum of history classes in German schools 🌺

Many people nowadays don't have time or patience for the nuances Rammstein apply, and in fact i would even argue that not all fans get these.

For me (but feel free to disagree) this is also the main difference between Rammstein and the 'Till Lindemann' or 'Lindemann' projects which imo is much more crass and jn your face, without those important little twists that make Rammstein so great (but if you'd state that i just don't *get* the nuances in 'Lindemann', then i probably couldn't argue with that 🌺).

Ofcourse Rammstein are only human, with their quirks, stupidities and mistakes; actually that's what appeals to me, they don't deny their faults or make excuses (even if some fans do so on their behalf) but work through them and come out stronger on the other side.

Like you i hope that the investigation by the Berlin Public prosecutor is done thoroughly and whatever comes out can be dealt with 🌺

[sonicenvy]

thinking about how one of those crappy things that you have to do when you work at any wide open public space or school or whatever in America is that annual active shooter drill or active shooter training. It's one of those things that honestly so fucking depressing about living in this country, that you have to constantly be prepared for the possibility that some nutjob with guns will randomly decide to attack your workplace or your school. Like ... is this a thing in other countries?? idk. But it sucks that not only are such individuals out there, but that in this country those bastards have ready and easy access to military grade guns.

The worst part is that over half of americans are in favor of stronger gun control and 81% of Dems/lean dems are in favor of stronger gun control. We want to improve gun control in this country, but the current laws are not in our favor.

So, for now, all you can think, in the back of your mind is will it come to me? when will it come to my community? There was a mass shooting 20 miles from where I live last year, and that day, while the shooter was still at large, all I could think about was will it come to us?

I think one of the top things I hate about living in this country is literally this specter of tragedy that we all have to live in. Schools, parks, parades, shops, movie theaters, clubs, and many more public places are all tainted with it. It happens nearly every day across our country. Guns are the leading cause of death for CHILDREN in this country -- in 2020 alone over 1000 children died by firearms in America. I fucking hate this so much. I honestly feel as though the NRA is a national terrorist organization for championing guns and easy gun ownership. Thousands of people in this country needlessly die because of firearms.

If you live in a country that doesn't suffer from massive, needless, tragic gun violence, I don't think you can understand. The fact that so many of these tragedies happen across this country that they blur together in our collective memory is horrific and, frankly, traumatizing for so many Americans. You just have to sit with the quiet background memory that it can come to you at any time. It is so common that employers like mine have their staff do drills or training for the possibility of an incident -- they're like clockwork, like a fire drill or a tornado drill.

I don't know where I was going with this post beyond being angry about the state of affairs over this issue in my country. Every time I have to watch those active shooter training videos for my job, it just makes me angry and sad. It's not fair that we have to live with this, that we have to sit with this, and it makes me furious when people from other countries (especially smarmy europeans) make fun of this whenever a shooting is so big that it reaches the international news. The things that I saw that some smarmy europeans say in the aftermath of Uvalde made me see red. CHILDREN died.

once again, the actual, main, central political theme of this blog is that the GOP and the NRA should rot in hell.

[waitinglistbooks]

The Origins of Political Order, From Prehuman Times to the French Revolution

For a few years now, I’ve been leaning on reading more about Sociology, Politics, History of Nations and, eventually, the name of Francis Fukuyama came up. Fukuyama is an American writer and political theorist. He studied at the Cornell University and Political Sciences at Harvard. He is currently a fellow at the Stanford University. Fukuyama has also worked for the U.S. Department of State, having specialized in Middle East affairs, and, later, to deal with European Political and Military affairs. In short, he has an enviable curriculum and a lot of experience in the field of politics.

When I was listening to a podcast I caught his name, and put him on my “books to read” waiting list, and was only expecting to actually get to it in a while. However, the Universe had other plans and in one of my many visits to bookshops, I found one of his books just asking me to take it. And so, I did. “The Origins of Political Order” was the book. It’s a fairly dated book (from 2012), and it’s the first volume of a set of 2 (the second one being “Political Order and Political Decay”).  I couldn’t wait, and started reading it straight away – my other ongoing books were not happy…

It took me awhile to get through it because it’s such a dense book. Dense in the sense that every sentence is pertinent information. I usually underline passages, expressions, sentences in books, but on this one I just couldn’t. Everything is relevant and thought provoking.

In this first volume, Fukuyama goes through the origins of human relations and society since the primitive times up to the eve of the French Revolution. Not being his own view and systematization of history, he does it in a very neat way, starting with China, then going to India, the Middle East, Eastern Europe and finally Europe, to explain how institutions are built and how the different social groups interact and make or destroy social organizations. I learned a lot with this book, as my base education is medical science, so I never got to go so thoroughly into history, Rule of Law, Social Movements, the Parliament, etc. It was so interesting to have a view on how the rule of law came about, how the different societies organized themselves, and how government and society interact with each other and how they, in Fukuyama’s point of view, can create strong or weak absolutists states, or democracies. I was also enlightened with regards on how the geography influences the culture and the way the government can control, or not control its people, and consequently, build states. Very, very interesting, and even if only a point of view on the facts, still food for thought.

I found the writing of Fukuyama very easy to read. Yes, this is textbook level, and yes, I am not that person that gets tired when reading thick, dense texts, but I would still think that, for the interested mind, this a very good recommendation.

I cannot go into specifics as the context is important, and I wouldn’t be able to, even if I wanted to but, if you want to learn more on how states, and political institutions come about, and to have a wider point of view on how things came to be, this is the ideal book to start.

“Samuel Huntington has suggested if the rallying cry of the English Parliament was “no taxation without representation”, today’s slogan ought to be “no representation without taxation”, since it is the latter that best incentivizes political participation.”

“The Origins of Political Order, From Prehuman Times to the French Revolution” written by Francis Fukuyama, Profile Books Ltd, UK, 2012 ISBN: 9781846682575

[realea]

The Media: Conservative or Liberal

News media is ultimately dominated by various platforms, and according to the presentations we watched in class, we learned that radio listenership has declined in the last 10 years, news outlets and news magazines have gained millions of readers, and we even recognized the fact that social media has been brought to the center of attention simply because of how news corporations’ profit from cultural shifts and other major headlines. Certain media outlets tend to see an increase in viewership while others see declines due to political alignment and how divided things have become. One of the presentations that stood out was the one about “Web and News Sites & Social Media.” I think this one stood out to me personally because of the details and key information it provided about different social platforms and where they stand politically and why the percentage of viewership has gone up and down over time. The other presentations, mainly the one titled “Newspapers and Magazines” really focused on comparing different news corporations around the country and who has the upper hand in subscription and viewership ratings. I think this presentation, despite it being short, did dive into a lot regarding the decline of newspaper sales and the bias that exists within these corporations. The third presentation titled “Radio: Listeners/Viewers” made things clear in terms of what radio shows have the most listeners and why they garner so much attention as well as the demographics in terms of age and gender. I think these last two matter because of the region and long-standing political choices of many people. The last presentation, done by my group titled “A look into Broadcast”, we simply chose to compare different news outlets and then see where they stand in term of the total amount of viewers and what motivates them to choose certain news sources.

It is difficult to fully determine where the media around us really starts and begins in terms of where the political spectrum is applied and what issues matter the most to a specific audience. The media in the United States is often divided along the lines of being either conservative or liberal, but the reality is that it is more complex than that. I personally believe that the media landscape in the United States is made up of a variety of outlets the include television, powerful newspaper companies, magazines, radio, social media, and the internet. Each of these outlets has their own unique perspectives and can be seen as either liberal or conservative depending on the content they produce. When it comes to television, the major networks are often seen as being liberal. This is due to their focus on topics such as social justice, environmentalism, and progressive politics. They also tend to be more critical of the current administration and its policies. However, there are also some conservative-leaning networks like Fox News, which is known for its right-wing views. Newspapers are also seen as being either liberal or conservative. Major newspapers such as The New York Times and The Washington Post are often seen as being liberal due to their stance on progressive issues. However, there are also some conservative-leaning newspapers such as The Wall Street Journal and The National Review. Magazines are also seen as being either liberal or conservative. The major magazines such as Time and Newsweek are also seen as liberal leaning due to their focus on progressive issues. However, through some research that I did, I found out that there are also some conservative-leaning magazines such as The American Spectator and The National Review. Radio networks are also seen as being either liberal or conservative as well, for example, major radio networks such as NPR and BBC are labeled as being liberal due to their focus on more cultural issues and less politically aligned coverage. However, there are also some conservative-leaning radio networks such as Fox News Radio and the Glenn Beck Show. Social media is also seen as being either liberal or conservative. The major social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter are often seen as being liberal due to their focus on liberal agenda related issues and a shift in the cultural approach towards the voices of big celebrities and athletes being heard. One conservative-leaning social media platform that comes to mind is Parler, which is considered to be an alternative to Twitter. Twitter, now owned by Elon Musk, has had its fair share in the departure of many liberal folks who used the platform to get their social concerns and messages across. The internet also provides a playing field where its role is to stir the mixture of liberal and conservative ideas that come together and where discussions regarding various controversial topics are addressed. In terms of search engines and ways to gain information using the internet, major websites such as Google and YouTube are often seen as leaning liberal because of various forms of censorship. Some conservative-leaning websites such as Breitbart and The Daily Caller have been more successful when it comes to the catering of conservative viewers and readers, where the appeal is stronger and more favorable, especially in a time when many people still want former President Trump to regain the presidency one day. When it comes down to who owns the media, the answer is complex. The media landscape in the United States is dominated by a handful of large corporations such as Comcast, Disney, AT&T and News Corp, who own over 90 percent of the media we consume daily. These corporations own many smaller regional media outlets. Overall, the media empire within the United States is not necessarily conservative or liberal. It is a complex landscape with a variety of perspectives.

It is also a good point to make when I personally say that there are also some outlets that are more balanced in their coverage. Ultimately, it is up to the individual to decide which outlets they trust and which ones they don't.

[emilatumbler]

The Media: Conservative or Liberal?

News media is ultimately dominated by various platforms, and according to the presentations we watched in class, we learned that radio listenership has declined in the last 10 years, news outlets and news magazines have gained millions of readers, and we even recognized the fact that social media has been brought to the center of attention simply because of how news corporations’ profit from cultural shifts and other major headlines. Certain media outlets tend to see an increase in viewership while others see declines due to political alignment and how divided things have become. One of the presentations that stood out was the one about “Web and News Sites & Social Media.” I think this one stood out to me personally because of the details and key information it provided about different social platforms and where they stand politically and why the percentage of viewership has gone up and down over time. The other presentations, mainly the one titled “Newspapers and Magazines” really focused on comparing different news corporations around the country and who has the upper hand in subscription and viewership ratings. I think this presentation, despite it being short, did dive into a lot regarding the decline of newspaper sales and the bias that exists within these corporations. The third presentation titled “Radio: Listeners/Viewers” made things clear in terms of what radio shows have the most listeners and why they garner so much attention as well as the demographics in terms of age and gender. I think these last two matter because of the region and long-standing political choices of many people. The last presentation, done by my group titled “A look into Broadcast”, we simply chose to compare different news outlets and then see where they stand in term of the total amount of viewers and what motivates them to choose certain news sources.

It is difficult to fully determine where the media around us really starts and begins in terms of where the political spectrum is applied and what issues matter the most to a specific audience. The media in the United States is often divided along the lines of being either conservative or liberal, but the reality is that it is more complex than that. I personally believe that the media landscape in the United States is made up of a variety of outlets the include television, powerful newspaper companies, magazines, radio, social media, and the internet. Each of these outlets has their own unique perspectives and can be seen as either liberal or conservative depending on the content they produce. When it comes to television, the major networks are often seen as being liberal. This is due to their focus on topics such as social justice, environmentalism, and progressive politics. They also tend to be more critical of the current administration and its policies. However, there are also some conservative-leaning networks like Fox News, which is known for its right-wing views. Newspapers are also seen as being either liberal or conservative. Major newspapers such as The New York Times and The Washington Post are often seen as being liberal due to their stance on progressive issues. However, there are also some conservative-leaning newspapers such as The Wall Street Journal and The National Review. Magazines are also seen as being either liberal or conservative. The major magazines such as Time and Newsweek are also seen as liberal leaning due to their focus on progressive issues. However, through some research that I did, I found out that there are also some conservative-leaning magazines such as The American Spectator and The National Review. Radio networks are also seen as being either liberal or conservative as well, for example, major radio networks such as NPR and BBC are labeled as being liberal due to their focus on more cultural issues and less politically aligned coverage. However, there are also some conservative-leaning radio networks such as Fox News Radio and the Glenn Beck Show. Social media is also seen as being either liberal or conservative. The major social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter are often seen as being liberal due to their focus on liberal agenda related issues and a shift in the cultural approach towards the voices of big celebrities and athletes being heard. One conservative-leaning social media platform that comes to mind is Parler, which is considered to be an alternative to Twitter. Twitter, now owned by Elon Musk, has had its fair share in the departure of many liberal folks who used the platform to get their social concerns and messages across. The internet also provides a playing field where its role is to stir the mixture of liberal and conservative ideas that come together and where discussions regarding various controversial topics are addressed. In terms of search engines and ways to gain information using the internet, major websites such as Google and YouTube are often seen as leaning liberal because of various forms of censorship. Some conservative-leaning websites such as Breitbart and The Daily Caller have been more successful when it comes to the catering of conservative viewers and readers, where the appeal is stronger and more favorable, especially in a time when many people still want former President Trump to regain the presidency one day. When it comes down to who owns the media, the answer is complex. The media landscape in the United States is dominated by a handful of large corporations such as Comcast, Disney, AT&T and News Corp, who own over 90 percent of the media we consume daily. . Overall, the media empire within the United States is not necessarily conservative or liberal. It is a complex landscape with a variety of perspectives.

It is also a good point to make when I personally say that there are also some outlets that are more balanced in their coverage. Ultimately, it is up to the individual to decide which outlets they trust and which ones they don't.

[boreal-sea]

Definitions of "Zionism"

Cambridge: "a political movement that had as its original aim the creation of a country for Jewish people, and that now supports the state of Israel"

Dictionary.com: "a worldwide Jewish movement that resulted in the establishment and development of the state of Israel and that now supports the state of Israel as a Jewish homeland"

Merriam-Webster: "an international movement originally for the establishment of a Jewish national or religious community in Palestine and later for the support of modern Israel"

Britannica: "political support for the creation and development of a Jewish homeland in Israel"

"Zionist" technically just means you think Israel should exist.

NOW, that said: I think the public meaning of "Zionism" has drifted for a lot of people to something much more right-wing, nationalistic, racist, Islamophobic, and violent. I think the public perception of what it means to BE a Zionist leans more towards "a nationalistic racist right-wing fascist who thinks Israel should be a Jewish ethnostate with no Palestinians or Muslims at all, Israel should take over all Palestinian territories, and Israel is fully justified in how it is behaving towards Hamas and other threats, and in fact, they should do it MORE."

This is why there are many folks who identify as anti-Zionist while still supporting the existence of the state of Israel. They don't agree with all of the nationalism, and they don't agree with how things are currently run in Israel, they just don't think it should be erased off the face of the Earth.

You can vehemently disagree with how Israel was formed, with the Nakba and expulsion and murder of Palestinians and the theft of their land and property, with the idea of an ethnostate, with how Israel has treated Palestinians for the past 50 years, with how its current government and military is conducting itself, and more. You can consider its actions in Gaza a genocide. You can call for the Palestinian right to return, the end of the ethnostate, the removal of Netanyahu from office, for a ceasefire, for a withdraw from Palestinian lands, for real negotiations with Palestine. Hell, you can even think Hamas is justified in "defending itself" (I personally don't - I don't consider antisemitism, kidnapping, rape, and murder "self defense").

You can disagree with literally everything there is to do with Israel as it currently exists... and still be called a "Zionist" as a slur by someone simply because you don't think Israel should be dissolved. Or just because you're Jewish - there are the people who call all Jews they disagree with "Zionist" as a slur because they're using the extreme definition of the word, and not the general definition. They're basically just calling you a fascist. It doesn't even matter if you support the existence of Israel.

To be quite frank though, a lot of people going around calling people "Zionist" as a slur are probably actually Zionists themselves, based on the basic definition.

...

There are lots of folks who are anti-state though! So if you don't believe states/countries should exist, then you don't think Israel or Palestine should exist. And that's totally fine too. Unless you're claiming to be anti-state but you only think Israel should be dissolved. That's just antisemitic cherry-picking.

[wrenqueenisboss]

DSMP Angsty Imagines - React to Your Death pt. 3 --- c!Wilbur Soot

Part 3 to my series of “dsmp boys react to your death”:  Pronouns used: they/them (if mentioned) Warnings: explosions, spoilers for the events of Dream SMP, death, grief Words: 1.3+

The list: c!George c!Bench Trio c!Wilbur - (you are currently on this post)  c!Dream c!Technoblade - (coming soon!)

You had tried convincing your boyfriend not to blow up L’Manburg. But Wilbur Soot wouldn’t listen to you. He wouldn’t listen to anyone. Not in this state.

It had been a long time coming, honestly. Everyone should have noticed the signs. You should have noticed the signs, but it wasn’t as if you were actively looking for a reason to paint your lover as an insane psychopath. 

For months, Wilbur had slowly been descending into insanity. Looking back, the tells were all there. Very irregular sleeping patterns; sleeping not at all and then way too much, days when it seemed as if his emotions had been completely turned off, days when his temper seemed too volatile, the times when you’d catch him obsessing over books explaining the mechanics of tnt. It had all been laid in front of you, but you were too blind. 

That’s the thing about love, children. You either find yourself forced into relationships that make you unhappy or find yourself so in love with someone that it practically erases reality and judgment. There are a few lucky people. A few who find the loves of their lives and spend the remainder of their days in perfect happiness. No intoxicating amounts of infatuation, no feelings of emotional claustrophobia. You were not one of those lucky people. Not at all.

It was already too late to turn back by now. The two of you were already heading to the Button Room. Tommy, Tubbo, and Quackity were supposed to be with you, but they didn’t agree with Wilbur’s plan, so they stayed behind.

The three had been desperately trying to convince Wilbur to step down, to destroy the button and give up on his wild fantasies of watching his unfinished symphony burn to the ground. But that hadn’t worked, So they turned to you.

And as much as you agreed with their reluctance - and disagreed with your boyfriend, you had to support him. For that’s what he did with you. When you had been a newcomer to the server and no one would help you, he did. At the very least you owed him that. But you were beginning to doubt how far your support would actually go when you found yourself standing in the button room.

You and Wilbur looked up at all of the signs on the walls, each singing L’Manburg’s National Anthem in your head.

I heard there was a special place where men could go and emancipate the brutality and tyranny of their rulers Well, this place is real you needn’t fret with Wilbur-

“You’ve been so good to me, Y/n.” Wilbur’s unusually quiet voice interrupted the anthem playing in your mind.

“I’m your partner, Will. I’m also your friend. It’s my job.” For some reason, you could bring yourself to say it was because you loved him. Your heart knew it was because you didn’t love him anymore. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. It was a different type of love now. Much less blinding, and much more clear.

Wilbur reached up a faintly-scarred hand to touch one of the signs on the walls. “You’ve stuck by me and supported me even when no one else did.”

You could feel your face begin to heat up. “Will, about that.... Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

Your boyfriend whirled around at that. And for some reason, your mind began to sing the National Anthem once more.

My L’Manburg My L’Manburg

“Don’t flake out on me now, Y/n. We’re so incredibly close. We’ve come this far together. You can’t possibly be thinking of abandoning me?” His eyes narrowed dangerously, sending ominous shivers down your spine.

My L’Manburg My L’Manburg

“No! Of course not! I just think it would... make sense if you... thought about this some more,” you stammered, desperately fumbling for the right words.

Wilbur stepped toward you suddenly and you flinched backwards. He didn’t seem to notice - or care. “Y/n, if you don’t support me in this plan, I have no choice but to kill you. You know too much. And yes, I do remember that you’re on your last life. That changes nothing.”

Your thoughts froze, so did you. Never, did you expect him to go this far. Sure, you’d been aware of the fact that he was slowly becoming insane for weeks, but threatening your life? That was something you could never prepare yourself for.

You were trapped. Either way, you were pretty sure you’d die. If you agreed, the explosions would kill you. If you didn’t, Wilbur would. 

For freedom and for liberty our nation sought to build on these a victory for all under our freedom

“I’m going through with the plan, Will. We’re going through with it.”

Well the darkness came and then it went we built a home and watched it sink and from the rubble emerged my great-

Once again, the anthem in your head was interrupted. This time by Philza. Philza Minecraft. Your boyfriend’s father.

Your heart raced as it realized how close to pressing the button Will had been only heartbeats before. Philza and Wilbur were having a whole debate in the background. It was only when your name was called that you snapped out of your trance.

“Y/n?” Will asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Your head snapped up. “Yes?”

You almost shut down at the sad acceptance in Wilbur’s eyes. Had it worked? Had Phil really talked him out of pressing the button and triggering the tnt?

“Phil here has convinced me that maybe the button isn’t worth pressing.”

Hope sprung in your chest. It spread its wings.

My L’Manburg My L’Manburg My L’Manburg My L’Manburg

Your boyfriend leaned down to hug you, head resting on your shoulder as his back faced Phil. You were just about to hug him back when his whispered voice reached your ears, making you shiver.

“It’s all up to you now, Y/n.”

He straightened and left the Button Room, but not before giving you a pointed glance. 

With bloodied hands and weakened knees.

Your body felt frozen, pinned by impossible choices. By the future and the past.

“Y/n?” Philza’s concerned voice carried across the cave. “Are you okay?”

You scrambled for a convincing enough excuse. “Y-yeah. I just need a moment. Today has been... rough.” None of that was a lie.

With a slight furrow of his brows, Phil nodded. He began walking away.

Our people rose like the phoenix

You stopped him, though. “Philza.”

He turned around.

Our empty fields and canals ‘round L’Mantree

“There was a saying, Phil, by a traitor, once a part of L’Manburg.”

Phil didn’t know how to react. He just nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the atmosphere, the tension.

With sweat and tears we armed our ranks we laid foundations in our land

“Have you ever heard of Eret?”

Once again, Philza only nodded.

You could feel your body heat up with anticipation. The moment was nearing.

And from every lips for here up to infinity

“Yeah, he had a saying, Phil.” You felt your fingertips ghost the surface of the button.

We sing L’Manburg We sing L’Manburg We sing L’Manburg We sing L’Manburg

“It was never meant to be.”

~-~-~-~-~-~-

Wilbur Soot was too busy smiling at the series of explosions going off behind him to realize the fact that you were dead.

And even when those around him cried as they mourned your death, not a single tear streaked down his cheek. No pang of sadness or remorse was felt by this man who had strayed too far down the path of insanity.

Perhaps once, he would have torn up the world looking for a way to revive you. But that Wilbur was long gone. That Wilbur was the one you’d fallen for, the one you’d follow to the ends of the server.

But you’d failed to realize that the Wilbur of today was not the Wilbur you loved. And that mistake turned out to be fatal.

[shadeswift99]

Grimlands headcanons part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

I had even more ideas pretty much right after making the last post, so have some history, geography, and a little bit more about the Count himself!

- Both the Grimlands and the Crystal Cliffs are actually former states of Mythland that declared their independence generations ago. (Mythland itself is a split from the Lost Empire that grew from a number of politically motivated exiles into the dark forest, but that history is so deeply ancient that the facts of the events around it are long obscured by legend.) Mythland waged on-and-off wars to try and win their lands back for many years after the two states broke away, but in modern times the borders have stabilized and there's no real animosity left between them.

(more fun stuff below)

- What is left is the culture that was heavily shaped by those early events. Both of the smaller nations ended up sort of insular and specialized in the process of defending themselves and trying to hold their new place in the world, but they each took slightly different turns. The Grimlands leaned heavily into the sciences, weapon development, and fortification to be able to withstand siege by Mythland's much bigger armies, while the Crystal Cliffs fanned the flames of the arcane study that was already a part of Mythandic culture and sought out new knowledge to protect themselves. The conflicts went on for long enough that the developments stuck, and they found more than enough new purpose for both magic and technology even in times of peace.

- This also means that Grimlandic is derived from Mythish! It's a very similar dialect, but faster and more gutteral, with certain words clipped and modified over time for a more efficient word economy. (One of the things that stayed mostly the same is cursing, a fact fWhip and Sausage had a very fun time figuring out when they first met)

- (I know this is Grimlands headcanons but I'm picturing the language of the Crystal Cliffs to be Mythish slowly merged with the arcane language of the tomes and spells they study. It flows beautifully and is wickedly hard to learn even for people who know both Mythish and magic) (Gem of course learned it quickly because Gem is a giant nerd)

- Speaking of which! My ideas about the twins' upbringing! Gem and fWhip were both raised in the Grimlands, with Gem being older (by minutes) and therefore technically expected to become the next countess. However I think everyone was anticipating some kind of joint rule between her and fWhip, so they were both trained equally in childhood for taking on the responsibility. This then proceeded to go hilariously sideways in pretty much every way possible.

- Gem and fWhip were equally rebellious problem children in completely opposite directions. Gem ended up insisting that she wanted nothing to do with ruling and went to study abroad in the Crystal Cliffs...where she later ended up being democratically elected to rule there anyway. In the mean time, fWhip took the throne in their homeland and showed even less care for convention and more of an itch for spontaneous policy changes than new counts usually do (which is saying a Lot.)

- The "capitol" of the Grimlands shifts between major cities depending on where the current ruler chooses to live (amazing idea courtesy of @magicalmanhattanproject ) which gives them a lot of strategic flexibility and unpredictability if an enemy decides to attack them. Which is great! But it also makes transitions between rulers a logistical nightmare. So everyone was a little bit relieved when fWhip chose to stay in his hometown in the mansion that was already built and furnished during his mother's reign. His advisors were decidedly less relieved, however, when he started personally taking a sledgehammer to the walls of the house to pack in more wacky machinery. The forge pretty much only got built because he was running out of space inside and his staff managed to convince him to just commission a new tower instead of looking that gleefully at walls that were that load-bearing

- Enthusiastic home "improvement" aside, he just...kind of turned out to be a next to impossible ruler to help in general. Yes, he has staff, and yes, they all have jobs that they are well paid to do, but fWhip is hands-on to the point of hyperactivity and he can and will start idly mopping some random hallway floor and muttering to himself about his latest ideas while the villager he grabbed the mop from looks on in dismay. They've told him a million times! He's the Count! He doesn't need to do chores! But what exactly are you supposed to do when your ruler ends up chopping half the carrots for dinner in the process of "checking to make sure everyone's doing okay" in the kitchen? You can't exactly order him to stop!

- The Grimlands never really had a throne, but there is typically an ornate desk and chair with a map in the center and several places where various tallies and reports will be periodically updated by staff throughout the day. They believe a leader's center of operations should be a place where everything they have entrusted to them to improve and protect is spread before them in plain view, so that they never lose sight of why they sit as ruler the way they might in a gaudy reception hall. This type of setup isn't exactly ideal for meeting with outsiders, though, so there is usually a meeting chamber before this room to maintain easy access to the information if needed during talks, but keep it safe from wandering eyes and hands.

- fWhip can regularly be found sitting on the desk. Because of course he does. Hey, he's immersing himself in the needs of the people! His advisors should be happy for him! The map is covered in glass, a few smudgy boot prints won't hurt it!

[esamastation]

Xerxes au snippet

The first official political overture the small desert nation of Xerxes makes towards Amestris in over fifty years is a year after the end of the Ishvalan Civil War. Though it is expected to concern the war, and the border between Amestris and Xerxes, or perhaps even Amestrian use of Alchemy in the war, is has nothing to do with the bloody conflict, or it's relation to Xerxes' famously pacifistic view on alchemy.

It is a simple, polite appeal to the Amestrian Government – an invitation for an Amestrian automail mechanic to join the Xerxesian court.

"Bit odd," Havoc mutters, after a copy of the letter has gone around the office a few times. "What do they need an automail mechanic for – isn't Xerxesian medical alchemy, like… world famous?"

"For given the value of fame, yes," Roy agrees, fingers crossed together and a thoughtful look on his face. "They say early Amestrian alchemists learned from Xerxesians. We still use a lot of their symbols in our alchemy – but if Xerxesian alchemists are world famous about anything these days, it's their reticence. No outsider has seen much about the way they go about things these days, if they even practice alchemy anymore."

Of course there are rumours, there are always rumours, and there's history – the great and wealthy kingdom of Xerxes, alchemically on top of the world and widely known for their wisdom and knowledge and the miracles they achieved… who reached too far, tried to achieve the power of gods, and got struck down by said gods for it. How accurate that is, no one knows, but it's known that some disaster hundreds of years ago devastated the kingdom, killed most of its people, and it never fully recovered. Now it's people can only barely scrape by, living in huts and caves and underground, and they don't treat with outsiders much beyond the absolutely necessary.

Beyond trade routes established to get Amestrian goods through Xerxes to Xing, there's never been much interest for Xerxes, except maybe for it's grand history and it's many ruins. It doesn't help that Xerxes, as far as anyone knows, has never really reached outside, keeping to its isolationist values – and since it has little to offer to other nations… no one reached back, either. As far as anyone knows, Xerxes hasn't advanced at all scientifically or technologically in the last hundred years.

Which makes the fact that they want specifically an automail mechanic, an craftsman of one of Amestris' most advanced technology, rather interesting, doesn't it?

"I hear they took a lot of Ishvalan refugees during the war," Fuery says – he's the one holding the letter, reading it through.

Roy hums grimly. There's that, though took in might be stretching it a bit. Xerxes didn't do much to protect its borders – there was no need, with a desert all around their kingdom. So, when Ishvalan refugees sought to escape the conflict and set out to the desert, there was nothing but the terrain itself to stop them. Who knows how many Ishvalans made it through the desert, on foot and probably hurt…

"Why'd they send this to our office?" Breda asks, casting a look at Roy.

"They sent it to Grumman who sent it to us," Roy sighs and leans back in his chair. "The Lieutenant General wants us to find a suitable mechanic and then escort them – along with the Fürher's greetings – to Xerxes. The mission isn't exactly time sensitive, but since we're in the East…"

There's probably many reasons it was thrown their way, really. Way to keep those uppity brats from East busy, easily justified with them being closest to the matter at hand. It also wasn't exactly vital as diplomatic missions go – but it was still a diplomatic mission to a foreign nation, which means that Roy would want to handle it himself instead of leaving it to any of his subordinates. Especially since it's to Xerxes – what Alchemist wouldn't give an arm and a leg for a glimpse at how Xerxesian alchemy is these days? So, it was expected that he'd go himself. Which would get him out of people's way for a while, and maybe open up a slot for someone else to be promoted to his place, depending how long it would take.

How annoying. Grumman can be one clever son of a bitch when he wants to be.

"Right," Roy says while his team exchanges looks. "I want a list of all automail mechanics of East on my desk by the end of the day – if you can figure out their feelings about Ishval and if they have any history with the Ishvalan Civil War, that'd be a plus. Get to work."

"Sir!" his team answers, and immediately get to it, Fuery and Fallman both heading out to probably check records, while Havoc fishes out a phone book and Breda gets the phone. Beside Roy, Hawkeye gives him a look.

"Should I start preparing for travel?" she asks mildly.

"If you please," Roy says, turning to his paperwork. "We'll take Breda with us."

"Understood."

-

Over the course of next two days, they list and investigate various automail shops in the east, Roy privately wincing at how many there are, and how many of them are less than a decade old. The Ishvalan Civil War had been a boon to the business, and a lot of mechanics from the south moved in to take advantage of the situation. Lots of new up and coming mechanics, cutting their teeth in on a lot of freshly traumatised soldiers.

It left a lot of them… unsuitable for a mission likely to involve Ishvalan refugees.

"Known for his Anti-Ishvalan sentiments," Breda says, crossing out another potential automail shop. "This one has a No Refugees sign on his shop front, which probably means the same thing. This one has a pretty high record of automail rejection syndrome. This one has had two patients die on the operation table…"

Roy rubs a hand over his forehead, already imagining having to reach for the Southern District to find someone sensible in Rush Valley, when Breda offers him a potential. "Rockbell Automail, in business for decades before the Ishvalan Conflict even began."

"Rockbell," Roy says, lifting his head. "Any relation to the two late Doctors Rockbell?"

"Yep. Son and daughter in law of Doctor Pinako Rockbell, the head mechanic of the shop," Breda says and lays the file on his desk. "Their daughter is currently an apprentice mechanic in the shop, too."

Roy grimaces at that, but accepts the file, leafing quickly through it. Old, well established shop, known for their skill and efficiency, with very high praise from a lot of former customers and no known record of either deaths on operation table, auto mail rejections, or any anti-Ishvalan sentiments. There is a slight issue of the head mechanic being an old woman and the only other mechanic being a young girl, but…

It's promising.

"Phone," Roy says, and Hawkeye quickly lifts it on his desk, turning it toward him so that he can dial easily.

"Rockbell Automail, Pinako Rockbell speaking," a woman's voice answers the phone promptly, her tone brisk.

"Doctor Rockbell, my name is Roy Mustang, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel from the East Area Headquarters – may I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly," Doctor Rockbell answers, no noticeable change in her tone. "What can do for you, Lieutenant Colonel? Aside from automail, presumably."

"I am currently looking for a skilled automail mechanic to take part in a diplomatic mission, likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Roy says. "Your shop came up as highly recommended."

"Hrm. What kind of diplomatic mission? Don't the military have their own automail mechanics?"

"There are some, but none in the Eastern Headquarters," Roy admits – probably because the East has such surplus of civilian mechanics these days. "And I'll be frank, the likely length of this mission makes it difficult to use any of our military mechanics. The mission is to Xerxes, and will likely take weeks, if not months."

"… Xerxes?" now the old woman's voice changes, growing a little incredulous.

"Yes, the Xerxes Royal Family sent the Amestrian government an appeal for a skilled automail mechanic to join their court, and I was tasked with the mission of finding one," Roy explains and leans back, turning to look out of the window while he talks. "You would be well compensated for your trouble, however long it would last."

"Is this… a permanent position? In Xerxes?" Still incredulous.

"We don't know as of yet, the treaties are yet to be drawn. You would naturally be part of the negotiations and your wishes and needs would be taken into account," Roy assures her. "I understand this is a bit much so suddenly, and I will hold it in no way against you if you refuse outright – though I am hoping that if that is the case, then perhaps you, as a well established mechanic, might be able to point me in the way of more suitable candidates…"

Honestly, with a shop as old and as well established as hers, Roy doubts very much she would take him up on the mission – she probably has a whole lot of regular clients and steady stream of income, and no need to move. But, it never hurts to ask.

The phone line is quiet for a moment as the old mechanic thinks. "I need to talk with my apprentice for a moment, can I call you back in, say, two hours?"

"Certainly," Roy agrees, and gives her his office number. "We'll be looking forward to your call."

"Right – one more thing. You said it's likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Doctor Rockbell says. "How'd you mean?"

"We don't know for sure, the appeal didn't explain the need for a mechanic. But during the Ishvalan Civil War, many Ishvalan refugees fled to Xerxes. So we thought it safe to assume the two are connected."

"Ah," the mechanic says knowingly. "And they put a State Alchemist in charge of finding a solution."

Roy swallows. Ah. She knows about him. It's not entirely surprising, but… "They did indeed," is all he says. There's no real explanation he can give, no excuse. It is what it is."

"Hm," Doctor Rockbell answers, noncommittal. "I will call back in two hours."

And she does, accepting the mission with two conditions. The military would help her pack up her entire shop and all the materials and tools would be transported with them – which was understandable, even if it tripled the estimated convoy size. The other condition was that she was taking her eleven year old apprentice with her. Both conditions Roy readily agreed to, tasking Havoc and Fallman with her packing while the rest of the team arranged the convoy.

"Guess we're going to Xerxes then. We're going to need a lot of camels," Breda muses.

"Yes," Roy agrees and sighs. It would be a hard journey and probably a hard mission, and likely one for very little gain in the end. Still. Xerxes. His alchemy master would've killed for the opportunity. Might as well take full advantage of it, and learn whatever he can, even if it's only from broken murals on ancient ruins.

-

Hmm... not sure I’m getting Mustang’s voice right.

Edit: Also tumblr eats italics for breakfast apparently.

[tainted-wine]

I hope you don’t mind this being exclusive for the Pro-Heroes!

(NSFW)

Papers? Check. Writing utensils? Check. Lube? Check.

You were primed and ready to begin this cocktastic journey. Completing this project will be a great benefit to Thirstology. You can’t believe that they put their trust in you to collect such valuable information from several willing participants. There’s no way you’re going to let the people at National Thirst Studies down.

With your lower body completely bare, you and your ambitious pussy set out to begin the cockwarming interviews.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Pre-Notes: The Symbol of Peace. It’s still surreal to see him in such a fragile state. Strangely enough, I never once asked myself: Does All Might fuck? “Obviously he was too pure for fucking,” is what I would have said before I devoted my life to Thirst Studies. But I have learned over the years that there is no such thing as purity.

------

After he got over the initial shock of you wearing no pants or underwear, you were finally able to begin your study and ask him the main question.

You barely dodged the spray of blood spewing out of his mouth. “Am I into what?” He sputtered.

“Cockwarming, sir. The act of settling a penis in a nice cozy orifice. There’s no movement, only penetration. Surely you already at least knew the definition when you agreed to this?” You offered him a paper towel, which he accepted with a choked “thank you.”

“Midnight told me this would be about intimate relationships,” he anxiously explained while wiping the red off of his lips. “But I wasn’t expecting to hear something that graphic.”

Ah, so he was talked into this. “Well, with your permission, I can give you a personal demonstration.”

His answer was inaudible the first time; you had to ask him to speak up in order to hear his adorably high “yes.” He was a lot shyer than you imagined. Poor guy was shaking like he was on a verge of a heart attack when you took his cock out and boy, did he put the ‘long’ in ‘schlong.’ But your mission wasn’t to admire the dick’s appearance, it was to learn how their owners used them inside a hot snatch. You climbed onto him and lowered yourself and ooooh shit, both of you were moaning as his inches sank into you. You couldn’t take it all, but it was more than enough to get the job done.

“Mmnngh, yes, very long. Pushing almost painfully,” You said through clenched teeth, scribbling in your notepad as you sat semi-comfortably in his lap. “Can you give me your input, Toshinori? How is this feeling for you?”

“Blrraaaffggg.”

“Toshi?”

“…”

He laid limp in the interview chair as crimson liquid continued to flow from his mouth. Well, this is troublesome. You’ll have to wait for him to regain consciousness to hear his feedback.

------

Conclusion: This was his first time experiencing cockwarming. He described it as ‘intense, but not unpleasant’. Unfortunately, whenever I ask for more details, he would get too embarrassed to share anything. Frankly, this isn’t the most fruitful start to my series of interviews, but it was a great privilege to meet the amazing All Might.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

Pre-Notes: I honestly don’t even know who the hell this is. An underground hero, apparently. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that he brought a cat with him. I told him that it needs to stay outside during the interview, but the difficult bastard was ready to turn around and leave unless I allowed the furball in. What a hassle. Do I even want to sit on this man?

------

You’re thankful that you did, in fact, sit on this man. His sleek ebony cat was relaxing in your lap while your pink kitty was stuffed with his cock. Despite his indifference to the situation, it was strangely intimate. Taking notes over a cute feline while his length twitched inside you was rather challenging.

“You seem like a rather exhausted fellow. Is it maybe the laid-back nature of the act that you find so alluring?” You asked.

“Mmhmm.” His arms circled around you to stroke his adorable pet.

“Being able to just wind down by giving your hard snake a wet hot crib to rest in?”

“Mmmmm.”

“I would appreciate a more elaborate answer.”

“Mmmmm...”

You shifted just enough to turn your head and see Aizawa’s head lolled back, his breaths getting heavier after each exhale. You can feel him quickly going soft inside you.

Ugh...

------

Conclusion: Given that he fell asleep in the middle of the demonstration, it’s safe to say that he finds the act very relaxing. I can only make guesses because the moment he woke up, he hurried me off his lap, picked up his cat and headed out. I did my best to chase him and ask if I could at least hear his final thoughts, but that bastard leaps on cars and buildings as skillfully as Edgeshot.

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

Pre-Notes: I’m not sure what to expect from the Voice Hero. His radio show has hosted some surprisingly insightful interviews. Unlike the last two, he will hopefully have some truly constructive answers to give.

------

“Not gonna lie, I always wanted to try this!”

Both of you were red in the face as you sat on his throbbing cock. Despite the blush and slight shake in his voice, he was as cheerful as ever. “Sometimes I just wonder, it would be pretty cool to just have a hottie warmin’ me up during my show, ya dig? No sex, though. I know I’m not quiet enough to get away with that on the air!” He laughed loudly right into your ear.

Well that kinda hurt, but it’s nice to finally have a fully cooperative interviewee. You were actually able to ask all of your planned questions for once, and Hizashi gave a satisfying answer to each one.

Unfortunately, it just couldn’t go perfectly, and his phone ended up ringing near the end of the interview.

“Hold on, listener. I gotta take this.”

Did he really? You wished he would wait until you were done.

You felt him lean back as you remained on his lap. “Shouta, buddy! What’s goin’ on?”

Shouta? Does he mean...?

“Sorry about that! I’m not home yet, I’m doin’ a...special interview, with a hard-working thirstologist.” You heard the voice on the other end respond, and Hizashi made a noise of confusion. “Eh? What do you mean ‘you too?’”

Oh dear, he does. They actually know each other.

The conversation quickly transformed into an argument, a loud one. The two heroes apparently have some...tension between them.

“Oh, so I throw hints at you for years and you act as innocent as your cats, but you’ll sit down and let a girl hop on your dick during an interview?!”

You had to lift yourself off of his softening member and take shelter from his booming voice. He was tucking himself back into his pants with one hand as he marched out of the room, but his hurt and anger was still loud and clear. “Don’t give me that bull. I bet if I hit you with twenty one questions about cockwarming, you’d just pretend you’re asleep! Oh, you actually did fall asleep? Huh.”

You awkwardly collected your notes as the two gentlemen were seemingly making up.

“Damn right I’ve always felt this way. Oh man, you better get ready tonight because I’ve got over ten years of pent up feelings, and you’re gonna take it all.”

------

Conclusion: It feels good to have a full interview. In summary, Hizashi is intrigued by the combination of closeness and casualness of it all. His interest in cockwarming during his jobs also indicate a possible thrill out of doing it in public. In addition, I’d like to announce with some pride that I may have assisted in taking two friends to the next level of their relationship.

Hawks

Pre-Notes: I’m eager to hear what the handsome winged hero has to say. I wouldn’t mind if we just stare at each other throughout the entire interview. My lust for him is unbearably strong and I’m not sure why. It’s probably just the horny writer’s obvious bias towards this bird. She could use another hobby.

------

Hawks laughed once you gave him the question that officially begins the interview. “Gotta admit, I’ve actually never tried it.”

That’s a surprise that you quickly jot down in your notes. “I see. Is it something you’re interested in trying? I can give you a demonstration right here.”

“Oh? I’d love one.”

You try not to look too excited as you leave your seat and move to undo his pants, but Hawks raises a hand.

“But I want you to do it on your knees.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “My knees? How do I-”

“With your mouth.”

Oh my.

You granted his request and kneeled down to take his half-hard cock into your mouth.

“Ahhh, that’s nice.” He sighed loudly, spreading his legs more as he stared down at you.

You detached your mouth from him to speak. “Can you tell me what it is that you-mmffrrf.”

A hand pushed you back down onto his man meat. “No no no, just...stay right there. I’ll do the talking in a minute.”

You sat there with his cock growing in the heat of your mouth. Hawks’s eyes were closed, a small content smile on his face. Every time you lifted your head just an inch, the hand on your head pressed you back down. Just when this interview was starting to feel more like a hookup, he finally began to talk.

“Oh yeah, I’ve fantasized stuff like this. You got a shitty boss? I do, don’t tell them I said that, though. They’re always finding something to get on my ass about. Working me like a dog everyday, expecting me to pull off these insane missions flawlessly.”

All you could do was look up and listen to his rant. He must have loved the sight of you, going by the strong twitch of his length in your mouth.

“They just keep asking more and more from me. ‘Do this faster next time, Hawks!’ or ‘I know you’ve never done something like this before, but don’t fail us, Hawks!’ Sometimes I just wanna shove something in their mouths...like my dick. Can you relate?”

You shook your head as well as you could in your current position.

He shrugged. “Oh well. As far as I know, I’ll always be the one getting fucked by them. But something like this...” He pat your head. “Ah yeah, it would be so nice to see them like this...”

------

Conclusion: Hawks was sadly short on time and had to leave before I could even get into the questions. Going by the very personal feelings and frustrations he shared, Hawks enjoys the dominance displayed from cockwarming, and prefers it be done orally. I will respect his wishes and not reveal any of the opinions that he shared about the establishment he works for and its executives.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fat Gum

Pre-Notes: It’s best that I continue to be honest: I’m anxious. Fat Gum is one of the biggest heroes around, and I just know that there is a deadly pillar of pussy destruction in those pants. I know that I should be more concerned with the questions, but it just won’t leave my mind.

------

“So, what experience do you have with this, Toyomitsu?”

The large man chuckled. He was currently in his skinny form, which you’re pretty thankful for since his fat form would have been beyond awkward to straddle. That would be like trying to hump one of those giant inflatable characters at parades. “A pretty lady I knew was really into it! I tried it for her sake, but I’ll say this with no ego, my sausage ain’t something to be taken lightly! Still, she was determined, and I was really digging just how strong her will was to take me.”

‘She sounds like a very brave soul,‘ you thought as your pen glided across your paper.

“I couldn’t believe it when she managed to get all of me inside. She couldn’t either, because she passed out! At first I just wanted to laugh it off,” he cackled as if to give an example, but his face quickly drooped into a somber expression. “But then I realized she wasn’t breathing...” His eyes shut in pain and sorrow. “And I couldn’t find a pulse...”

You nearly dropped your pen in horror. “My goodness, Toyomitsu. I’m so sor-”

“I’m just messin’ with ya! She’s fine!” His face immediately brightened up again, leaving you shocked and somewhat upset over the scare. “But seriously, if you want a seat on this big boy, I hope you’ve got plenty of lube on hand.”

“Don’t worry, I do. More than enough for the biggest flesh towers.”

But your doubts instantly returned when the bulging monster was freed from his pants. It’s huge. Toshinori may have been long, but this monster was unbelievable in both length and girth.

Your fear must have been evident on your face, because Toyomitsu asked, “You sure you wanna do this? Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You whipped out your bottle of lube and drenched your hands. “Thirstology is my passion. My life’s work. I am more than willing to put my life on the line for science.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “It’s...not that serious, but I really like your guts, missy.” He gave himself a few strokes. “So let me tear them up.”

Even with the coatings of lube inside your pussy and on his massive cock, this was still the most arduous task you have ever performed in your life. You didn’t know it was possible to be stretched this far. The light blonde was mesmerized by your trembles and scrunched expressions and as you tried to take more of him, his mouth slightly open when he noticed the swell in your lower abdomen.

“Oh, that is hot.”

------

Conclusion: I did it. I took the Fat Gun. Fat Gum himself takes a lot of pleasure in watching the strain of someone trying to take him in, and due to his partner often being much smaller than him, the tightness is very pleasurable to him. He was the only interviewee that actually came during the demonstration, so I suppose it’s safe to say that he is the biggest fan of cockwarming out of the five. He was very panicked when he came inside me, but I reassured him that I am on the pill. This is still a hell of a mess to clean up, however.

(I hope the information I have obtained will be useful for the institute. Thank you for giving me this opportunity)

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[natrogersfics]

PREVIEW - Game Plan: Chapter 3

Artwork by @faith2nyc​ Catch up on Chapter 2  Read on AO3

He can’t breathe. Well, maybe he’s being a touch dramatic. It’s not as if the tightness he’s feeling in his chest right now is akin to having a three-hundred-plus-pound defensive end pinning him to the ground, though Steve’s certainly experienced that enough times to know it’s pretty damn close. And just like when he’s sacked in the pocket, he’s uncomfortable – irritated, even. But the worst part is, he doesn’t actually think it has anything to do with the interviewer that’s been trying to cajole him into a cringeworthy sound bite for the last half hour.

The irony that he’s now sitting for an interview does not escape him. When the Avengers had first announced his signing, the reception was a mixed bag. There were some who cheered, delighting in the idea of him mounting a comeback and raving about what a coup the front office had pulled. Nevertheless, many were skeptical. Hardcore fanatics were, at best, lukewarm about the idea of a former NFC West quarterback jumping to the AFC East. Pundits on Sports Center dissected his ability to play pro ball again after a two-season hiatus. Then there were the ever-unescapable critics. He’s sure they had a lot to say (and likely still do), but if he hadn’t paid attention to them back then, he sure as hell isn’t going to do so now.

Fast forward two weeks, one front page cover, and a charity campaign kickoff later, and suddenly the tides have turned. Such was the number of requests Natasha had received from podcast hosts to talk show producers alike to book time with him that they had no other option but to schedule back-to-back interviews while he trains at the Avengers’ remote facility out in New Jersey. And that’s how he wound up in his current predicament – his patience running thin as he sits mic’d up on a plush leather seat in the Press Room in the middle of his third interview of the day.

“Let’s talk about your career.”

The suggestion comes from his left, where a wooden desk with a surfeit of props across the surface has been situated on the makeshift set. Behind it sits Johann Schmidt, the famously mercurial host of the streaming talk show HAIL HYDRA! and known to sports fans across the nation as the Red Skull – a moniker bestowed upon him for his impossibly sharp features and his penchant for dressing in the fiery color.

“7 seasons, 102 games played, 23,671 passing yards, 171 total touchdowns, 73.4% pass completion rate…”

As Schmidt rattles off a list of his career statistics, he steals a glance towards the front of the room, half expecting Natasha to interject that his pass completion rate is actually 74.3%, not 73.4. But she doesn’t, and he realizes that unlike the last few times she’s cut in when an interviewer misstates a fact about him or his career statistics, she isn’t doing so now because her attention is elsewhere. Or, more accurately, it’s being monopolized by the towering stranger she’s been talking to since the start of this interview whose words now have her tipping her head back in laughter.

The thought triggers a bitter taste in his mouth, and right then and there, it hits him. The inexplicable tension in his body, the irritation he feels – it’s nothing short of the green-eyed monster.

He’s always been competitive. He is an athlete, after all, and he’s almost certain that anyone would be hard pressed to find one that didn’t prioritize winning. But jealousy is just not an emotion he’s ever leaned into. It’s childish, nonsensical, and he’s seen the crazy things it’s driven other people to do. Not to mention the fact that right now, he has absolutely no right to feel it – especially when it comes to Natasha. With that in mind, he shifts in his seat in an effort to shake the feeling away, turning his attention back to Schmidt.

“The New York Avengers haven’t had a successful run in the playoffs in quite some time,” Schmidt states into the windscreen covered microphone before him. “That said, it’s still the most storied franchise in the league, which is why it’s understandable that fans may be dubious about whether or not you’re the right man to lead the team back to glory.” Schmidt pauses, his expression bordering on menacing as he leans forward in his seat. “So, tell us, Steve, why do you think you’re the player to do that?” Schmidt lifts a shoulder. “What makes you so... special?”

“We all know I’ve suffered a major injury and that I haven’t played professionally in two seasons. So, I get it,” he acknowledges. “I get why fans are skeptical to give me a chance.” He shakes his head. “You ask what makes me the man to lift this team back up… What makes me so special? The answer, Schmidt, is nothing.” He shrugs. “It’s true that I’m often associated with LA because that’s where my career began. But at the end of the day, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn-”

“Just what every fan base wants to hear, am I right?” Schmidt interrupts, practically reveling in delight as he smirks. “The savior they’ve been waiting for… and he turns out to be nothing but ordinary.”

“Perhaps you see it that way, but I disagree,” he says, prompting Schmidt to raise a brow. “Being a kid from Brooklyn means that I can’t” – he pauses, shaking his head – “I won’t back down from a challenge.” He sighs. “So, while I can’t guarantee fans a Lombardi at the end of the season, what I can guarantee is that every time I put on that uniform, I will leave my heart out on that field.”

Schmidt is stunned into silence, and it’s only when the room suddenly bursts in applause that he comprehends why the man’s glib expression has soured into a scowl. Turning away from the host, he allows his eyes to sweep across the room to see the entire crew – both from the Avengers and from HYDRA – clapping enthusiastically. As he spots Darcy and Wanda in the corner, both of whom offer him two thumbs up, pride begins to surge through him. But it’s only when he sees Natasha next to them, her lips quirking as she gives him a nod of approval, that he smiles – his earlier discomfort all but forgotten.

“You killed it!” Natasha exclaims as he walks towards her at the end of the interview, and he’s surprised when she leans in to wrap her arms around him.

“Think so?” he says, returning the embrace and letting his lips pull upwards into a smile.

“Know so,” Natasha says as she pulls away. “Oh, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Natasha moves to his side, and he looks up to see the man she was talking to earlier standing before them. He’s dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, his stature massive enough that he could easily be a tight end or even a center. “Steve,” Natasha begins, “this is Thor Odinson, CEO of Point Break, the country’s leading athletic wear brand and your new sponsor.” Her words cause the tension in his shoulders to dissipate. “Thor, this is Steve, our starting quarterback.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Johann Schmidt stunned into silence before,” Thor says, flashing his perfect teeth as he smiles and extends his hand out to him. “Seriously, good job.”

“Thank you,” he says, shaking Thor’s hand. “But that was all Natasha. She prepared me well.”

He beams in pride as he turns to Natasha, because if he’s learned anything in the last two weeks, it’s that her dedication to her job is unparalleled. Every day since this media campaign has started, she’s easily the most prepared person in the room – ready to fire off a Plan B, C, or D when necessary. While things haven’t always been smooth sailing, he’s certain that nothing has ever escalated into a mishap because of her quick thinking. If he’s had any success in turning the public’s opinion on him, it’s only because he’s been fortunate enough to have her as his guide every step of the way.

More impressive than Natasha’s work ethic though, is her capacity for kindness, and it’s something he’s witnessed time again throughout their relatively short time together. As his Publicist, she’s often the first line of defense when it comes to the media, and though he’s only been back in the public eye for a brief period of time, he’s seen how brash they can be when they press her for information. And yet, she’s never been anything but professional, even when the person before her does not warrant it. Add to that the way she watches over her team and how lovingly she speaks of her sister, and he’s not sure how anyone can do anything but admire her.

“This one,” Thor says, pointing a thumb at Natasha, “is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he says to her more than anyone else, and as she playfully rolls her eyes, he pretends not to notice the hand Thor places on her shoulder.

“When he can nail interviews like that, my job is basically a breeze,” Natasha says, turning to Thor. “Anyway, shall the three of us discuss the rollout strategy for the sponsorship?”

“Yes, let’s,” Thor says, gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way, Nat.”

He arches a brow as he follows them out of the Press Room. Nat?

Read all of chapter 3 here