#muzzle velocity

[retrocgads]

USA 1997

[aegisprecisionkinetics]

When it comes to precision shooting, the weight of your bullet plays a crucial role in both accuracy and overall performance. Different bullet weights impact how ammunition behaves in flight, influencing factors such as trajectory, recoil, and even wind resistance. As an ammunition manufacturer in Las Vegas, Nevada, understanding these dynamics can be key to achieving the best results whether you’re target shooting or hunting.

[edtype]

Method to Their Madness

There’s a certain reasoning behind all the rapid fire executive orders, and it’s Steve Bannon’s. It’s a “flood the zone” military tactic of distraction designed to stir emotions and shatter focus. Keep your focus on preserving democracy.

Opinion | Don’t Believe Him

Ezra Klein, Feb. 2, 2025

Look closely at the first two weeks of Donald Trump’s second term and you’ll see something very different than what he wants you to see.

If you want to understand the first few weeks of the second Trump administration, you should listen to what Steve Bannon told PBS’s “Frontline” in 2019:

Steve Bannon: The opposition party is the media. And the media can only, because they’re dumb and they’re lazy, they can only focus on one thing at a time. …

All we have to do is flood the zone. Every day we hit them with three things. They’ll bite on one, and we’ll get all of our stuff done. Bang, bang, bang. These guys will never — will never be able to recover. But we’ve got to start with muzzle velocity. So it’s got to start, and it’s got to hammer, and it’s got to —

Michael Kirk: What was the word?

Bannon: Muzzle velocity.

Muzzle velocity. Bannon’s insight here is real. Focus is the fundamental substance of democracy. It is particularly the substance of opposition. People largely learn of what the government is doing through the media — be it mainstream media or social media. If you overwhelm the media — if you give it too many places it needs to look, all at once, if you keep it moving from one thing to the next — no coherent opposition can emerge. It is hard to even think coherently.

Donald Trump’s first two weeks in the White House have followed Bannon’s strategy like a script. The flood is the point. The overwhelm is the point. The message wasn’t in any one executive order or announcement. It was in the cumulative effect of all of them. The sense that this is Trump’s country now. This is his government now. It follows his will. It does what he wants. If Trump tells the state to stop spending money, the money stops. If he says that birthright citizenship is over, it’s over.

Or so he wants you to think. In Trump’s first term, we were told: Don’t normalize him. In his second, the task is different: Don’t believe him.

Trump knows the power of marketing. If you make people believe something is true, you make it likelier that it becomes true. Trump clawed his way back to great wealth by playing a fearsome billionaire on TV; he remade himself as a winner by refusing to admit he had ever lost. The American presidency is a limited office. But Trump has never wanted to be president, at least not as defined in Article II of the U.S. Constitution. He has always wanted to be king. His plan this time is to first play king on TV. If we believe he is already king, we will be likelier to let him govern as a king.

Don’t believe him. Trump has real powers — but they are the powers of the presidency. The pardon power is vast and unrestricted, and so he could pardon the Jan. 6 rioters. Federal security protection is under the discretion of the executive branch, and so he could remove it from Anthony Fauci and Mike Pompeo and John Bolton and Mark Milley and even Brian Hook, a largely unknown former State Department official under threat from Iran who donated time to Trump’s transition team. It was an act of astonishing cruelty and callousness from a man who nearly died by an assassin’s bullet — as much as anything ever has been, this, to me, was an X-ray of the smallness of Trump’s soul — but it was an act that was within his power.

But the president cannot rewrite the Constitution. Within days, the birthright citizenship order was frozen by a judge — a Reagan appointee — who told Trump’s lawyers, “I have difficulty understanding how a member of the bar would state unequivocally that this is a constitutional order. It just boggles my mind.” A judge froze the spending freeze before it was even scheduled to go into effect, and shortly thereafter, the Trump administration rescinded the order, in part to avoid the court case.

What Bannon wanted — what the Trump administration wants — is to keep everything moving fast. Muzzle velocity, remember. If you’re always consumed by the next outrage, you can’t look closely at the last one. The impression of Trump’s power remains; the fact that he keeps stepping on rakes is missed. The projection of strength obscures the reality of weakness. Don’t believe him.

You could see this a few ways: Is Trump playing a part, making a bet or triggering a crisis? Those are the options. I am not certain he knows the answer. Trump has always been an improviser. But if you take it as calculated, here is the calculation: Perhaps this Supreme Court, stocked with his appointees, gives him powers no peacetime president has ever possessed. Perhaps all of this becomes legal now that he has asserted its legality. It is not impossible to imagine that bet paying off.

But Trump’s odds are bad. So what if the bet fails and his arrogations of power are soundly rejected by the courts? Then comes the question of constitutional crisis: Does he ignore the court’s ruling? To do that would be to attempt a coup. I wonder if they have the stomach for it. The withdrawal of the Office of Management and Budget’s order to freeze spending suggests they don’t. Bravado aside, Trump’s political capital is thin. Both in his first and second terms, he has entered office with approval ratings below that of any president in the modern era. Gallup has Trump’s approval rating at 47 percent — about 10 points beneath Joe Biden’s in January 2021.

There is a reason Trump is doing all of this through executive orders rather than submitting these same directives as legislation to pass through Congress. A more powerful executive could persuade Congress to eliminate the spending he opposes or reform the civil service to give himself the powers of hiring and firing that he seeks. To write these changes into legislation would make them more durable and allow him to argue their merits in a more strategic way. Even if Trump’s aim is to bring the civil service to heel — to rid it of his opponents and turn it to his own ends — he would be better off arguing that he is simply trying to bring the high-performance management culture of Silicon Valley to the federal government. You never want a power grab to look like a power grab.

But Republicans have a three-seat edge in the House and a 53-seat majority in the Senate. Trump has done nothing to reach out to Democrats. If Trump tried to pass this agenda as legislation, it would most likely fail in the House, and it would certainly die before the filibuster in the Senate. And that would make Trump look weak. Trump does not want to look weak. He remembers John McCain humiliating him in his first term by casting the deciding vote against Obamacare repeal.

That is the tension at the heart of Trump’s whole strategy: Trump is acting like a king because he is too weak to govern like a president. He is trying to substitute perception for reality. He is hoping that perception then becomes reality. That can only happen if we believe him.

The flurry of activity is meant to suggest the existence of a plan. The Trump team wants it known that they’re ready this time. They will control events rather than be controlled by them. The closer you look, the less true that seems. They are scrambling and flailing already. They are leaking against one another already. We’ve learned, already, that the O.M.B. directive was drafted, reportedly, without the input or oversight of key Trump officials — “it didn’t go through the proper approval process,” an administration official told The Washington Post. For this to be the process and product of a signature initiative in the second week of a president’s second term is embarrassing.

But it’s not just the O.M.B. directive. The Trump administration is waging an immediate war on the bureaucracy, trying to replace the “deep state” it believes hampered it in the first term. A big part of this project seems to have been outsourced to Elon Musk, who is bringing the tactics he used at Twitter to the federal government. He has longtime aides at the Office of Personnel Management, and the email sent to nearly all federal employees even reused the subject line of the email he sent to Twitter employees: “Fork in the Road.” Musk wants you to know it was him.

The email offers millions of civil servants a backdoor buyout: Agree to resign and in theory, at least, you can collect your paycheck and benefits until the end of September without doing any work. The Department of Government Efficiency account on X described it this way: “Take the vacation you always wanted, or just watch movies and chill, while receiving your full government pay and benefits.” The Washington Post reported that the email “blindsided” many in the Trump administration who would normally have consulted on a notice like that.

I suspect Musk thinks of the federal work force as a huge mass of woke ideologues. But most federal workers have very little to do with politics. About 16 percent of the federal work force is in health care. These are, for instance, nurses and doctors who work for the Veterans Affairs department. How many of them does Musk want to lose? What plans does the V.A. have for attracting and training their replacements? How quickly can he do it?

The Social Security Administration has more than 59,000 employees. Does Musk know which ones are essential to operations and unusually difficult to replace? One likely outcome of this scheme is that a lot of talented people who work in nonpolitical jobs and could make more elsewhere take the lengthy vacation and leave government services in tatters. Twitter worked poorly after Musk’s takeover, with more frequent outages and bugs, but its outages are not a national scandal. When V.A. health care degrades, it is. To have sprung this attack on the civil service so loudly and publicly and brazenly is to be assured of the blame if anything goes wrong.

What Trump wants you to see in all this activity is command. What is really in all this activity is chaos. They do not have some secret reservoir of focus and attention the rest of us do not. They have convinced themselves that speed and force is a strategy unto itself — that it is, in a sense, a replacement for a real strategy. Don’t believe them.

I had a conversation a couple months ago with someone who knows how the federal government works about as well as anyone alive. I asked him what would worry him most if he saw Trump doing it. What he told me is that he would worry most if Trump went slowly. If he began his term by doing things that made him more popular and made his opposition weaker and more confused. If he tried to build strength for the midterms while slowly expanding his powers and chipping away at the deep state where it was weakest.

There is a subreddit for federal employees where one of the top posts reads: “This non ‘buyout’ really seems to have backfired. I’ll be honest, before that email went out, I was looking for any way to get out of this fresh hell. But now I am fired up to make these goons as frustrated as possible.” As I write this, it’s been upvoted more than 39,000 times and civil servant after civil servant is echoing the initial sentiment.

But he didn’t. And so the opposition to Trump, which seemed so listless after the election, is beginning to rouse itself.

In Iowa this week, Democrats flipped a State Senate seat in a district that Trump won easily in 2024. The attempted spending freeze gave Democrats their voice back, as they zeroed in on the popular programs Trump had imperiled. Trump isn’t building support; he’s losing it. Trump isn’t fracturing his opposition; he’s uniting it.

This is the weakness of the strategy that Bannon proposed and Trump is following. It is a strategy that forces you into overreach. To keep the zone flooded, you have to keep acting, keep moving, keep creating new cycles of outrage or fear. You overwhelm yourself. And there’s only so much you can do through executive orders. Soon enough, you have to go beyond what you can actually do. And when you do that, you either trigger a constitutional crisis or you reveal your own weakness.

Trump may not see his own fork in the road coming. He may believe he has the power he is claiming. That would be a mistake on his part — a self-deception that could doom his presidency. But the real threat is if he persuades the rest of us to believe he has power he does not have.

The first two weeks of Trump’s presidency have not shown his strength. He is trying to overwhelm you. He is trying to keep you off-balance. He is trying to persuade you of something that isn’t true. Don’t believe him.

[nerfgunattachments]

The Dart of WAR! Are the new Game Face Pro Darts Any Good?

[trump-leaves-countdown]

A calming assessment of the chaos of the past 2 weeks. We're seeing manic grabs for power because Trump isn't smart enough or popular enough to do anything strategic.

Staying focused gives us the upper hand.

[yesornopolls]

The article is under the cut because paywalls suck

This is an edited transcript of an audio essay on “The Ezra Klein Show.” You can listen to the conversation by following or subscribing to the show on the NYT Audio App, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts.

If you want to understand the first few weeks of the second Trump administration, you should listen to what Steve Bannon told PBS’s “Frontline” in 2019:

Steve Bannon: The opposition party is the media. And the media can only, because they’re dumb and they’re lazy, they can only focus on one thing at a time. … All we have to do is flood the zone. Every day we hit them with three things. They’ll bite on one, and we’ll get all of our stuff done. Bang, bang, bang. These guys will never — will never be able to recover. But we’ve got to start with muzzle velocity. So it’s got to start, and it’s got to hammer, and it’s got to — Michael Kirk: What was the word? Bannon: Muzzle velocity.

Muzzle velocity. Bannon’s insight here is real. Focus is the fundamental substance of democracy. It is particularly the substance of opposition. People largely learn of what the government is doing through the media — be it mainstream media or social media. If you overwhelm the media — if you give it too many places it needs to look, all at once, if you keep it moving from one thing to the next — no coherent opposition can emerge. It is hard to even think coherently.

Donald Trump’s first two weeks in the White House have followed Bannon’s strategy like a script. The flood is the point. The overwhelm is the point. The message wasn’t in any one executive order or announcement. It was in the cumulative effect of all of them. The sense that this is Trump’s country now. This is his government now. It follows his will. It does what he wants. If Trump tells the state to stop spending money, the money stops. If he says that birthright citizenship is over, it’s over.

Or so he wants you to think. In Trump’s first term, we were told: Don’t normalize him. In his second, the task is different: Don’t believe him.

Trump knows the power of marketing. If you make people believe something is true, you make it likelier that it becomes true. Trump clawed his way back to great wealth by playing a fearsome billionaire on TV; he remade himself as a winner by refusing to admit he had ever lost. The American presidency is a limited office. But Trump has never wanted to be president, at least not as defined in Article II of the U.S. Constitution. He has always wanted to be king. His plan this time is to first play king on TV. If we believe he is already king, we will be likelier to let him govern as a king.

Don’t believe him. Trump has real powers — but they are the powers of the presidency. The pardon power is vast and unrestricted, and so he could pardon the Jan. 6 rioters. Federal security protection is under the discretion of the executive branch, and so he could remove it from Anthony Fauci and Mike Pompeo and John Bolton and Mark Milley and even Brian Hook, a largely unknown former State Department official under threat from Iran who donated time to Trump’s transition team. It was an act of astonishing cruelty and callousness from a man who nearly died by an assassin’s bullet — as much as anything ever has been, this, to me, was an X-ray of the smallness of Trump’s soul — but it was an act that was within his power.

But the president cannot rewrite the Constitution. Within days, the birthright citizenship order was frozen by a judge — a Reagan appointee — who told Trump’s lawyers, “I have difficulty understanding how a member of the bar would state unequivocally that this is a constitutional order. It just boggles my mind.” A judge froze the spending freeze before it was even scheduled to go into effect, and shortly thereafter, the Trump administration rescinded the order, in part to avoid the court case.

What Bannon wanted — what the Trump administration wants — is to keep everything moving fast. Muzzle velocity, remember. If you’re always consumed by the next outrage, you can’t look closely at the last one. The impression of Trump’s power remains; the fact that he keeps stepping on rakes is missed. The projection of strength obscures the reality of weakness. Don’t believe him.

You could see this a few ways: Is Trump playing a part, making a bet or triggering a crisis? Those are the options. I am not certain he knows the answer. Trump has always been an improviser. But if you take it as calculated, here is the calculation: Perhaps this Supreme Court, stocked with his appointees, gives him powers no peacetime president has ever possessed. Perhaps all of this becomes legal now that he has asserted its legality. It is not impossible to imagine that bet paying off.

But Trump’s odds are bad. So what if the bet fails and his arrogations of power are soundly rejected by the courts? Then comes the question of constitutional crisis: Does he ignore the court’s ruling? To do that would be to attempt a coup. I wonder if they have the stomach for it. The withdrawal of the Office of Management and Budget’s order to freeze spending suggests they don’t. Bravado aside, Trump’s political capital is thin. Both in his first and second terms, he has entered office with approval ratings below that of any president in the modern era. Gallup has Trump’s approval rating at 47 percent — about 10 points beneath Joe Biden’s in January 2021.

There is a reason Trump is doing all of this through executive orders rather than submitting these same directives as legislation to pass through Congress. A more powerful executive could persuade Congress to eliminate the spending he opposes or reform the civil service to give himself the powers of hiring and firing that he seeks. To write these changes into legislation would make them more durable and allow him to argue their merits in a more strategic way. Even if Trump’s aim is to bring the civil service to heel — to rid it of his opponents and turn it to his own ends — he would be better off arguing that he is simply trying to bring the high-performance management culture of Silicon Valley to the federal government. You never want a power grab to look like a power grab.

But Republicans have a three-seat edge in the House and a 53-seat majority in the Senate. Trump has done nothing to reach out to Democrats. If Trump tried to pass this agenda as legislation, it would most likely fail in the House, and it would certainly die before the filibuster in the Senate. And that would make Trump look weak. Trump does not want to look weak. He remembers John McCain humiliating him in his first term by casting the deciding vote against Obamacare repeal.

That is the tension at the heart of Trump’s whole strategy: Trump is acting like a king because he is too weak to govern like a president. He is trying to substitute perception for reality. He is hoping that perception then becomes reality. That can only happen if we believe him.

The flurry of activity is meant to suggest the existence of a plan. The Trump team wants it known that they’re ready this time. They will control events rather than be controlled by them. The closer you look, the less true that seems. They are scrambling and flailing already. They are leaking against one another already. We’ve learned, already, that the O.M.B. directive was drafted, reportedly, without the input or oversight of key Trump officials — “it didn’t go through the proper approval process,” an administration official told The Washington Post. For this to be the process and product of a signature initiative in the second week of a president’s second term is embarrassing.

But it’s not just the O.M.B. directive. The Trump administration is waging an immediate war on the bureaucracy, trying to replace the “deep state” it believes hampered it in the first term. A big part of this project seems to have been outsourced to Elon Musk, who is bringing the tactics he used at Twitter to the federal government. He has longtime aides at the Office of Personnel Management, and the email sent to nearly all federal employees even reused the subject line of the email he sent to Twitter employees: “Fork in the Road.” Musk wants you to know it was him.

The email offers millions of civil servants a backdoor buyout: Agree to resign and in theory, at least, you can collect your paycheck and benefits until the end of September without doing any work. The Department of Government Efficiency account on X described it this way: “Take the vacation you always wanted, or just watch movies and chill, while receiving your full government pay and benefits.” The Washington Post reported that the email “blindsided” many in the Trump administration who would normally have consulted on a notice like that.

I suspect Musk thinks of the federal work force as a huge mass of woke ideologues. But most federal workers have very little to do with politics. About 16 percent of the federal work force is in health care. These are, for instance, nurses and doctors who work for the Veterans Affairs department. How many of them does Musk want to lose? What plans does the V.A. have for attracting and training their replacements? How quickly can he do it?

The Social Security Administration has more than 59,000 employees. Does Musk know which ones are essential to operations and unusually difficult to replace? One likely outcome of this scheme is that a lot of talented people who work in nonpolitical jobs and could make more elsewhere take the lengthy vacation and leave government services in tatters. Twitter worked poorly after Musk’s takeover, with more frequent outages and bugs, but its outages are not a national scandal. When V.A. health care degrades, it is. To have sprung this attack on the civil service so loudly and publicly and brazenly is to be assured of the blame if anything goes wrong.

What Trump wants you to see in all this activity is command. What is really in all this activity is chaos. They do not have some secret reservoir of focus and attention the rest of us do not. They have convinced themselves that speed and force is a strategy unto itself — that it is, in a sense, a replacement for a real strategy. Don’t believe them.

I had a conversation a couple months ago with someone who knows how the federal government works about as well as anyone alive. I asked him what would worry him most if he saw Trump doing it. What he told me is that he would worry most if Trump went slowly. If he began his term by doing things that made him more popular and made his opposition weaker and more confused. If he tried to build strength for the midterms while slowly expanding his powers and chipping away at the deep state where it was weakest.

But he didn’t. And so the opposition to Trump, which seemed so listless after the election, is beginning to rouse itself.

There is a subreddit for federal employees where one of the top posts reads: “This non ‘buyout’ really seems to have backfired. I’ll be honest, before that email went out, I was looking for any way to get out of this fresh hell. But now I am fired up to make these goons as frustrated as possible.” As I write this, it’s been upvoted more than 39,000 times and civil servant after civil servant is echoing the initial sentiment.

In Iowa this week, Democrats flipped a State Senate seat in a district that Trump won easily in 2024. The attempted spending freeze gave Democrats their voice back, as they zeroed in on the popular programs Trump had imperiled. Trump isn’t building support; he’s losing it. Trump isn’t fracturing his opposition; he’s uniting it.

This is the weakness of the strategy that Bannon proposed and Trump is following. It is a strategy that forces you into overreach. To keep the zone flooded, you have to keep acting, keep moving, keep creating new cycles of outrage or fear. You overwhelm yourself. And there’s only so much you can do through executive orders. Soon enough, you have to go beyond what you can actually do. And when you do that, you either trigger a constitutional crisis or you reveal your own weakness.

Trump may not see his own fork in the road coming. He may believe he has the power he is claiming. That would be a mistake on his part — a self-deception that could doom his presidency. But the real threat is if he persuades the rest of us to believe he has power he does not have.

The first two weeks of Trump’s presidency have not shown his strength. He is trying to overwhelm you. He is trying to keep you off-balance. He is trying to persuade you of something that isn’t true. Don’t believe him.

You can listen to this conversation by following “The Ezra Klein Show” on NYT Audio App, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts. View a list of book recommendations from our guests here.

[sellyourshadownotyoursoul]

DP x DC WIP: Magical Sugar Daddy

The world exists in shades of green. Everywhere Jason looks he sees sickness and death and the perverted unfairness of it all.

There's blood on his boots, accompanied by the pleasant ache of tired muscles. His hand is still buzzing from the recoil of his gun - the breath in his lungs is tinged with cigarette smoke, dry and acidic.

There's been a presence behind him for a while now, trailing after him no matter what he does to lose the tail. It's like a prickle of static in the air, faint enough to dismiss for anyone less paranoid.

Jason's body is a spring wound too tight, the metal screeching in protest as the feeling of being watched intensifies.

A week and change since he's had a moment of peace.

When he hears the scuffle of a shoe on the quiet rooftop it's no wonder he explodes into action.

The trigger is pulled before he's even turned his head, a roar of thunder in his ears. The butt of his gun misses its target by a hair's breadth as he brings it down in an arc followed up by a kick that finally earns him a reaction. The figure grunts in pain and surprise, but the step it takes backwards isn't one of staggered retreat. It's a pivot on a heel and a coil of muscle before Jason's stalker is vaulting over the smokestack at their side, launching them back into the fight proper.

Jason growls low in his throat, like his lungs do not exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide but what he exhales is instead a heady mix of hunger and rage. There's an answering sound, a hiss pitched high at the end as the two of them clash once more.

Jason blocks a punch and pushes the muzzle of his gun against an unguarded shoulder, point blank. His target flinches hard enough that the shot only clips them but that gives Jason the opportunity for a follow-up punch to the jaw.

The hood of his stalker falls to their shoulders and Jason answers the grin on their face with a baring of teeth hidden behind his mask.

Jason gets a kick to the ribs while he reloads the gun and subsequently opts to just holster the thing so he can have both hands free. The other asshole isn't much bigger than Jason and their guard is sloppy.

He won't need weapons for this.

A misstep from his opponent has Jason surging forward to fling them over the edge of the roof before a flip that would make Dickie proud reverses their positions. It forces Jason to roll under a kick so he isn't the one meeting the pavement at lethal velocity.

His attacker appears male, age unclear but certainly out of their twenties. Jason grabs the snowy white braid that flows behind them and feels a rush at the gasp that pulls from the guy, even as the retaliation gets him an uppercut that makes his vision swim.

Jason twists the hair around his fist, forcing the head it's attached to into the pavement at their feet.

He slams it down once, twice, before a leg around his own has him lose his balance. He lands on his elbow and curses at the pain shooting through it even as he gets back up and rounds on his opponent. He blocks a punch by diverting it outwards, stepping back and to the side so the fight stays in the center of the roof.

There's blood running freely down the other man's front from a nose that Jason bets is broken, the liquid looks jet black in Jason's monochromatic world of sickly lazarus green.

The eyes watching him are wide and alert, a manic edge to them from the bared fangs and the tense posture. They both surge forward, trading blows and kicks until they're breathing heavy and Jason can tell his opponent is flagging.

The way they move makes it clear they're not a fighter, at least not one with a preference for hand-to-hand. They keep up with Jason just barely, but it's already clear who the winner is going to be, even as Jason lets it drag out until there's sweat running down his back.

A kick from Jason's steel toed boot against an unarmored shin is what finally ends it. His opponent falls to the ground with a curse and they don't get back up even as Jason looms over them. Their eyes are half-lidded, hands sprawled out limply above their head in defeat, but there's a smile on their face that really tests Jason's ability to suppress the urge to tear out their throat. He places a boot on the guy's sternum and puts enough weight on it to show he's serious.

A low sound, a mix of a grunt and a laugh, precedes a weak attempt to buck Jason off but he doesn't budge.

“Talk,” Jason rasps.

A dark tongue swipes through the drying blood on his assailant’s lips and they cough wetly before responding.

“Nice to meet you,” is what he says, strained from the pressure on his lungs, “fuck, you're good.”

“Who sent you?” Jason's demand is curious but dripping with derision. Who would send a fucking prodigy of stealth just to have them suck at actually taking out the target?

Jason hadn't been able to lose this stalker for over a week, had gotten litterally zero intel on who this fucker is despite having Oracle and half his own men on high alert.

And then the guy just walks up and scuffs his shoe against the pavement?

Suicide by Red Hood much?

“Technically Clockwork, but I'm not really-” the guy coughs again, trying to breathe, “not really someone people can send.”

Jason prompts him to continue with an addition of pressure to his ribs. He doesn't feel any sort of armor under the neutral hoodie, nor do the cargo pants look like they're in any way reinforced. They're clean though and clearly not the kind of worn Jason expects for someone trying to blend in this side of town. No camouflage tech unless it's nano-sized.

The man wrinkles his nose, eyes flicking down to the boot and back up to Jason's face.

“Okay, look I know I'm late, but I'm here to apologize,” he says with another little grunt and a wiggle. Jason keeps him pinned.

“I didn't actually know you were mine until a year ago-”

“Yours?” Jason scoffs, something sour rising in his gut.

“Yeah?”

“I don't fucking belong to you,” Jason states darkly, one hand unholstering his gun.

There isn't any immediate reaction to the escalation, but Jason can feel a strange charge in the air. The body underneath him certainly doesn't relax.

“Fuck, okay sure, yeah, no ownership,” the guy huffs but the voice is not nearly as afraid as it should be, “that's kind of, ah, what I wanted to talk about.”

“And if I tell you to fuck off?”

“Then I'll fuck off.”

Jason pauses, tilting his head in consideration.

“Who are you?” Jason's question is wary and curt, a final offer to change his mind before he cocks his gun. The guy under him watches with bright, intense eyes, seemingly unperturbed by the monster looming above.

“I'm the reason you're still alive, Jason.”

Jason laughs coldly at the boldness of that statement.

“Bullshit,” he spits.

The eyes continue to watch him, appearing to glow in the faint light. The guy's face is set in a grimace, but it's one of mild inconvenience rather than pain. He should have a concussion at least, not to mention a fracture or two, so he's either trained to withstand pain or some kind of meta. Maybe he's hopped up on some new drug that's got him unaware of the damage. A byproduct of whatever made him so difficult to track.

Neither of them are panting anymore.

“Last chance,” Jason drawls as he takes aim at a damp forehead, already feeling the anticipatory rush that comes with taking a life.

He is admittedly not intending to let this little stalker live no matter what comes out of his mouth. Not when he knows Jason's name, not when there might not be another chance to tie up the loose end.

The guy seems aware of it too, eyes flickering over Jason's mask as if trying to find the right combination of words to buy just a little more time.

He opens his mouth, closes it again.

He sighs through his nose, a wet sound when it displaces the coagulating blood, and lets his head fall back against the concrete rooftop. The message seems clear in the resigned set of his shoulders and Jason feels an irrational indignance at being denied the struggle.

Nevertheless he pulls the trigger.

BANG

The sound echoes into the distance until it blends into every other incriminating noise Gotham makes at night. Jason frowns down at the would-be corpse.

He couldn't have missed, not with the muzzle barely a foot from its target - but there's no bullet hole marring the face at his feet. The eyes remain alive and aware as they watch Jason's growing confusion.

“What the fuck,” he mutters.

That earns him a stuffy snort. The man's hands flare out as if to say ‘ta-dah’ and only flinch minutely when Jason sends another bullet into him.

“Rude,” the guy comments, in the cadence of someone annoyed rather than relieved.

“What are you,” Jason demands in response, forcefully holstering his gun now that it has proven to be worthless. Looks like fists are going to be the way forward.

“Loaded question,” the guy groans unhelpfully, pushing at Jason's leg with little success.

Jason makes a point of momentarily increasing the pressure, staring the fucker down through the whiteouts of his mask.

“You survived a lazarus pit,” stalker offers, the words a sucker punch to an unhealed wound that Jason refuses to acknowledge, “which means you accepted the price that comes with it, whether you knew about it or not.”

“And that explains what, exactly?”

“You asked what I am,” the guy shrugs.

“And you still haven't answered.”

There's a moment where stalker-guy gazes up into the cloudy, dark sky, hands settling from their attempts to remove Jason's boot to instead tap idly against the leather. The fingers are long and thin, the kind an author might describe as suited for playing the piano, the nails neither bitten to the quick nor so long as to appear unkempt. Jason feels a sudden urge to break those fingers one by one just to see if that might yield a more satisfying reaction. Or some answers. His eyes catch on a sleek black band on the ring-finger of the guy's left hand and wonders momentarily if his shadow’s got someone waiting for him. He pities them.

“Price,” Jason prompts, “explain.”

“Right, yeah I can do that-do you mind stepping off? The bullets are digging into my back-”

“Maybe if you give me a reason to,” Jason retorts with a sneer, feeling the absolute furthest from any notion of ‘charitable’.

Stalker-guy sighs.

“Got it, okay, so, I'm basically your magical sugar-daddy-”

“My fucking what-” Jason chokes, feeling distinctly like the gravity of the situation is doing loop-de-loops.

“Your patron. Your new one, anyway,” the guy shrugs again, as if that's a concept that's common knowledge.

Jason forces air into his lungs. The world flickers.

“You paid your soul to my predecessor and he gave you back your memories.”

Jason's insides are made of cracked glass and every syllable pushes further up against it. Isn't the pit rage enough of a price?

“I came to introduce myself,” Jason's apparent ‘magical sugar-daddy’ continues conversationally, “which I guess I still haven't, technically.”

Jason's hands are white-knuckled fists, his vision is green and tunneling. From the moment he had him pinned every word out of his stalker's mouth has done nothing but add more fuel to the anger sitting low in Jason’s gut. The need for this piece of shit to at least have the decency to be afraid.

Talking about Jason's fucking soul - about paying the price and book-ending it with a term as crass as ‘sugar-daddy’ is so discordant it is almost physically painful. Mentioning the pits and claiming to have saved Jason's life in such a blasé manner has him writhing with indignation. The condescension drips from him and his every action, too similar to-

Jason's spiraling is interrupted by a change to his balance. His foot on the guy's chest hits the concrete underneath, the sight of his calf sticking out of what should have been a living, breathing body causing a momentary stutter in Jason's reality.

Then the guy is on his feet, reaching out a hand as if they weren't at each other's throats a moment ago. As if the bullets lodged in the concrete weren't intended for one of their heads. As if he cannot sense the raw malice pouring out of Jason.

“I'm Danny, sorry for the wait.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi, sorry to bother and sorry if this is too much, but I was wondering if you had anything to help write a character dying of an infected gunshot wound? Love ur acc btw 💓

Writing Notes: Infected Gunshot Wound

It will take some time for a gunshot wound to heal.

The length of time depends on the person's health and how serious the wound is.

The bullet may have broken a bone or caused a lot of damage to muscles, organs, or nerves.

The bullet may also have been left in the body because getting it out would have caused the person more harm.

Some signs of infection:

Redness or swelling around the wound

A lot of blood or pus coming from the wound

Foul odor

Fever of 100.4°F (38°C) or higher, or as directed by provider

It's normal to feel some stress and anxiety after a traumatic event like a gunshot wound. You may write about your character feeling anxious, angry, or depressed or having trouble sleeping or focusing. The following may also occur.

Wound continues to bleed even after putting direct pressure on it

For chest, back, or abdomen wounds:

Shortness of breath

Painful breathing

Back or abdomen pain that gets worse

Weakness

Dizziness or fainting

Redness, swelling, or fluid leaking from your wound that gets worse

Pain that gets worse

Symptoms that don’t get better, or get worse

New symptoms

Signs of Wound Infection

Pus: Medical professionals manage healthy drainage with regular dressings. But cloudy, yellowish drainage or purulent discharge with a pungent or foul odor accompanied with swelling and elevated pain is a sign of an infected wound.

Pimple: When a pimple-like crust forms on an injury, it indicates an infection. This pimple increases in size over time.

Soft Scab: While it is normal to have slightly pink or reddish skin around the injury, a scab that constantly increases in size over time could indicate an infection.

Red Area: In the initial stages, wounds appear red due to the natural healing process. But if the red area around the injured site continues to increase even after 4-5 days of an injury, it is a telltale sign of an infected wound.

Red Streak: If a red streak starts forming from the injured site towards the heart, it could be lymphangitis (inflammation of the lymphatic system). This underlying infection requires immediate medical attention.

More Pain: Normally, the pain subsides a few days after an injury or wound. Long-lasting or elevated pain even after a few days is a symptom of an infected site.

More Swelling: Similar to redness around the wound, swelling in the affected area indicates that the body’s immune system is working. But if the swelling continues even after 3-5 days, with no signs of it reducing, it indicates an infection.

Swollen Node: Generally, swollen lymph nodes indicate that a body’s immune system is fighting an illness. But the formation of a large and tender node near the injured site could be a sign of an infected wound.

Fever: After an injury or surgery, it is normal for a patient to run a low-grade fever. However, persistent high-grade fever coupled with decreased appetite and body ache is a sign of infection.

An intermediate velocity (muzzle velocity 350-650 meters per second or 1,200-2,000 feet per second) and a high velocity (muzzle velocity >600 meters per second or >2,000 feet per second) gun shot wounds are more likely to have a high risk of infection.

It has been found that gunshot wounds to the abdomen with associated colonic injuries had a worse outcome with an increased risk of developing wound infections.

Necrotizing Soft Tissue Infection. A serious, life-threatening condition. It needs treatment right away to keep it from destroying skin, muscle, and other soft tissues.

The word necrotizing comes from the Greek word "nekros."

It means "corpse" or "dead."

A necrotizing infection causes patches of tissue to die.

These infections are the result of bacteria invading the skin or the tissues under the skin. If untreated, they can cause death in hours.

Fortunately, such infections are very rare. They can quickly spread from the original infection site. So it's important to know the symptoms.

The most common symptoms of a necrotizing soft tissue infection:

Pain that hurts more than you think it should, based on the size of the wound or sore

A wound with a fever (higher than 100.4°F or 38°C) and a rapid heartbeat. This is usually more than 100 beats a minute.

Pain that extends past the edge of the wound or visible infection

Pain, warmth, skin redness, or swelling at a wound, especially if the redness is spreading rapidly and if areas are turning bluish or black

Skin blisters, sometimes with a "crackling" sensation under the skin

Pain from a skin wound that also has signs of a more severe infection, such as chills and fever

Grayish, smelly liquid draining from the wound

A small sore or pus-filled bump that is unusually painful to the touch

An area around the sore that is hot to the touch

A hard time thinking clearly, especially along with one of the other symptoms noted

A lot of sweating, especially with one of the other symptoms noted

Areas of skin at or near a wound that feel numb

A sore that is getting worse quickly, especially if you:

Are obese

Have diabetes

Have a weak immune system from using a steroid regularly

Are on chemotherapy for cancer

Are on dialysis

Have peripheral artery disease

Drink a lot of alcohol

Have poorly controlled HIV/AIDS

People with some of these symptoms are surprised to learn that they have a necrotizing soft tissue infection.

That's because it may not seem to be very severe at first.

But these infections can get worse quickly if they are not aggressively treated.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here's another reference that includes some mechanisms at work with gunshots. And more information on wounds.

Thanks for this request, this was quite interesting for me to look up—no apologies needed! And thank you for your lovely words, hope this helps with your writing <3

[retrocgads]

USA 1997

[historyofguns]

The article authored by Will Dabbs, MD, reviews the Air Venturi M1A Air Rifle, which is a licensed replica of the renowned Springfield Armory M1A battle rifle. The review highlights its potential as a cost-effective alternative for shooters amidst rising ammunition costs due to pandemic-related supply chain disruptions. Resembling the real M1A rifle in size and feel, the air version offers a simulator-style experience potentially useful for training. Equipped with features such as a walnut stock and functional sights, the air rifle also incorporates unique mechanisms for operation, like a charging handle resembling the real gun's gas piston. Dabbs shares his enthusiasm, noting its weight, authentic feel, and low-cost operation, emphasizing its value for backyard shooting or training where traditional firearms might not be suitable. Additionally, the review details target and pellet options for enhancing shooting enjoyment.

[aegisprecisionkinetics]

When shopping for ammo, the details on labels can often feel overwhelming. Understanding these specs is crucial for choosing the right hunting ammunition, whether you’re browsing an online ammo store or visiting a licensed ammo shop in Nevada. Let’s break down the key components to help you make informed decisions.

[e-vay]

The Sonnet of Domino & Phlox - Ch3

[A/N: Click here to read the previous chapter. Click here to start at Chapter 1. This story is also available to read on AO3]

Getting to the townsquare was easier said than done. Running against the flow of escaping townsfolk was like swimming upstream in white-water rapids. But the screams of terror that surrounded her only spurred Domino to push forward. To steel mind, she reminded herself that this was no different than any other time she worked her way through crowds going unnoticed. She tucked her arms in and crouched low, making herself as small as possible before sprinting and weaving through scrambling bodies. Among the foot traffic she spotted a trail of trampled produce and followed its lead to a toppled over cart. She used the desecrated merchant stand as a jumping board and launched herself high into the air, catching onto a light pole and swinging from one to another. Clouds of dust weren’t enough to mask the orange behemoths that had just successfully knocked over the town center statue.

“I knew it!” Domino seethed. As soon as she landed on the cobblestone path, she swung her backpack off her shoulder and pulled out a medium sized pot. It wasn’t much in terms of a weapon, but it was fairly sturdy and she figured she could dislodge the bot’s head if she found a way to strike in the right spot. “Sorry Phlox, looks like I’ve got another date for dinner.” She gripped the pot by the handle and began to charge at the giant mechs with a mighty battle cry.

“WAIT!”

The hedgehog skidded to a halt, turning her head and tilting her ears to find the source of the yell. She looked up to spot a pair of trembling shrew ears poking up from a window in a nearby building. Hesitantly, the mayor looked out to her over the window ledge. “Y-You can’t-”

His command was drowned out by the noxious screeching of metal-on-metal as one of the Botniks pried the recently installed well pump from the ground. The robot’s torso began to spin, gradually gaining speed. Once it was spinning at full velocity, it released the well pump from its grip and the metal tube worked as a missile to plow through one of the storefronts. The ‘torpedo’ wasn’t large enough to bring the entirety of the building down, but the frontmost wall of bricks had been launched into the store like a shotgun blast and destroyed almost everything inside.

Domino’s eyes widened at the destruction the robot was able to achieve in only seconds.

“Spit it out, Mayor,” she encouraged, bouncing on the balls of her feet in preparation to fight, “-before these bumbling bozos knock down your house, next!”

“You can’t break them!”

“I can sure try,” she shouted back, looping the handle of the pot over her finger and twirling it.

“No! I mean you can’t break them; they were too expensive!” 

Her eyes shot up to the shrew in disbelief. “What?!” She scoffed and gestured at the growing pile of debris that cluttered the town square. “You’re tellin’ me these things are worth more to you than the rest of the town?!”

“YES! Literally!” He shrieked. “ I-... We invested our entire budget into these machines. We won’t be able to return them if they’re reduced to scraps!”

The girl groaned, shoving the cookware back into her backpack. There was no time to debate ‘returns’ and ‘lawsuits’ and whatnot, not with the clunky orange beasts making their way towards her. “If I can’t break these things,” she thought to herself, “I’ve gotta figure out a way to turn ‘em off.” These were machines after all, and as far as she knew, all machines had an off-switch. But despite the ‘smiley face’ logo branded on their chassis, these robots didn’t seem friendly enough to let her get a close look.

She thought about the lessons Phlox taught her while they played in the creek that morning: Assess the situation and use her strengths. 

Size.

Speed.

Resourcefulness.

These bots were bigger and stronger than her, but they were far slower and not nearly as nimble. A smile spread across her muzzle.

Domino ran straight towards the Botniks. One of the robots reached out to snatch the teal hedgehog, but she quickly darted in another direction before it could grab her. While its body was still leaned over and its arms stretched at a 45 degree angle towards the ground, Domino sprinted back towards the machine and used its arm as a ramp to scale to the top of its head. “Wheeere are you, ‘Off Swiii~iitch’?” she sang nervously. Her eyes scanned the back of the dome. Except for the crude paint, the surface of the bot’s ‘skull’ was smooth and free of any switches. A blur of orange was visible in her periphery where Botnik #2 was launching a punch right towards her. She scrambled behind #1’s head and she was just small enough to use it for cover. The metallic fist collided into the dome of its peer with an echoing BONG! 

She slipped down the robot’s back, musing as she noticed an access panel. “Oooh hello.” She ran a finger along the seal and traced the singular, straight indent in each of the screw heads. “HA! Some fancy tech you are. These are just your run of the mill-wHuoOAHH!”

Domino wailed as the robot once again began spinning its torso and the centrifugal force pried her off the mech and launched her down an alley and into a stack of barrels. The weight atop her was bad enough, but the contents of her backpack dug into her back as she was pinned down. With effort, she pushed the heavy containers off of her and shrugged off her bag, rubbing the stinging spot in her back. “Maybe pants are better than a backpack,” she joked to herself. Her eyes widened and she gasped. Pants! 

She shoved her hand into the pocket of her trousers and pulled out one of the coins she’d received from the mayor. It was no flat-head screwdriver, but it was just the right size to do the trick. An incredulous laugh escaped her lips and she was actually glad that the politician had been such a cheapskate. She excitedly tossed the coin into the air before snatching it and pocketing it again. Domino returned to her feet and sprinted back to the courtyard, leaving her backpack hidden away within the rubble for later.

Fighting both bots at the same time wasn’t an option. She’d have to make sure that one was occupied while she worked to power down the other. As she quickly approached the town square, she looked up and noticed the stringed pennants that decorated the once lovely neighborhood. Leaping into the air, she curled into a spinning ball and sliced the cord with her quills. With string in hand, she ran towards Robot #1 that was preparing another attack. Using her small size and speed, she darted under the bot’s legs and began weaving in and out around and between them. The bulky robot was too rotund and had no neck in order to look down and see that she was tying loops around the machine’s appendages. As it blindly took a swing, she dodged and instead jumped onto the offending arm, looping the pennant string around the bot’s wrist and leaping up onto its shoulder, swinging around the back of its neck and then jumping back down so the robot had put itself in a chokehold. Domino made one final loop around the robot’s other arm and at last, secured the end of the string to itself with several tight knots. When the angry orange behemoth tried to attack again, it stumbled onto its back and struggled to break free from its ties with a series of whirrs and mechanical groans. She laughed breathlessly, marveling at her own handiwork.

A couple of high-pitched screams snapped her back to reality. She spun on her heel to see two marten children cowering in the looming shadow of Robot #2. The bot raised its fists in the air, poised to bring them down like a hammer on the younglings. The oldest of the two girls was poised in front of the other as if to shield her, but it was clear both were paralyzed by fear.

Domino used a running slide to snatch the children into her arms and all three narrowly escaped just as the robot slammed its fists into the ground. Without much time for pleasantries, she pushed the kids away and shouted, “Run! Hide and stay hidden!” The martens nodded, tears in their eyes, and scrambled away. Just as Domino started to get back up, a mechanical set of fingers wrapped around her ankle and she was quickly pulled out from under her feet, swung over the robot’s head and then slammed into the ground on her back. The hedgehog wheezed, the air having been knocked from her lungs. Running around was one thing, but brawling was a completely new experience. And it hurt like a sonofabitch.

Propping herself up onto her elbows in hopes to calm the dizzy spell that rattled her brain, she noticed a shadow cast over her. The orange robot stood above her, arms once again raised high above its head, and before she could manage to roll away, its fists came crashing down for a fatal blow. She only had enough time to clench her eyes shut in hopes that not being able to see ‘the end’ would somehow make it less painful.

So much for making a difference.

A heavy “thud” was followed by the sound of mechanical groaning and whirring, as if the robot’s gears were grinding in a struggle. Confused as to why she wasn’t a puddle of jelly, Domino opened her eyes to see an indigo angel shielding her view.

Phlox stood between the mechanical beast and the young woman who lay on the cobblestone, having caught the robot’s arms by the wrists and stopping it mid-strike. The interior workings of the machine screeched with effort as it continued its attempt to bring its weight down upon the two hedgehogs, but Phlox held his grip and didn’t let the metal arms budge an inch.

The young man looked over his shoulder at the bewildered lady. “What do you need?” He asked, cutting right to the point.

Domino blinked and shook her head, not allowing herself the time to comment on Phlox’s insane talent of being-at-the-right-place-at-the-right-time or marveling at the tense muscles in his arms and shoulders as he grappled with the robot. “Breaking it is off-limits. I need to get to the access panel on this thing’s back to try and power it down. Do you think you can hold it in place?”

Phlox grinned, eyes half-lidded with confidence. “You got it. Mind moving over just a skosh?”

The teal hedgehog scrambled away from the powerhouses. As soon as she was safely out of harm’s way, Phlox released the robot and quickly darted to the side, using the machine’s momentum against itself so that it fell on its hands and knees. In a series of forceful maneuvers that were too fast for Domino to comprehend, Phlox pressured the bot onto its chest and grappled it into a hammerlock, driving its wrist to its opposite hip behind its back. Despite the robot’s size, Phlox stretched himself as far as he could and hooked one of the bot’s legs with his own, looped his free arm over the robot’s neck and then scraped the machine’s head towards its own knee in a cradle position. The ovoid behemoth screeched and whirred as it tried to break free, but with its limbs secured and Phlox’s weight and strength pinning it in place, it twitched helplessly on the ground with its back exposed.

“Step on up,” the purple hedgehog encouraged proudly, maybe a little too excited at the chance to show off his wrestling skills.

It took all of Domino’s willpower to suppress the whirlwind of butterflies in her stomach and focus on the mission at hand. She hurried over and, using the coin from her pocket, began to unscrew the plate from the access panel. Once open, she could see a seemingly endless network of wires and doohickeys that made up the robot’s interior. There were no signs of any buttons but she hoped there was a switch hidden inside or at least a notable power source. Luckily, the panel opening was just large enough for someone of her small frame to narrowly sneak through. “I’m going in. Keep it steady,” she instructed and Phlox acknowledged with a nod. 

The sharp edges of the metal access panel scraped against her shoulders and arms as she burrowed her way into the mechanical beast’s chassis. The interior was just as confined and difficult to move around in, but Domino thanked the stars that she wasn’t claustrophobic and that being contorted into a ball came naturally to her. With the robot being a custom build, there weren’t any obvious labels present. She opted to simply start unplugging wires in hopes it would stop the bot without permanently damaging it. She disconnected wires by the handfuls and pried open panels in search of a battery to dislodge, but despite her efforts she could still feel the rattling of the bot as it struggled against Phlox. “What the heck is powering this thing?” she muttered to herself.

After determining that it stood no chance breaking free from the male hedgehog’s powerful pin, the robot ceased its jostling and focused on recalculating. Phlox raised an eyebrow at the now still machine.

Without the constant sound of grinding gears, Domino could hear a frantic chattering noise coming from the darkness in front of her. Curious, she squeezed her way further into the ovoid torso to find the source of the sound.

Before Phlox could ask Domino if she had powered the bot down, the mechanical hand that belonged to the posted out arm slowly began to retract into its forearm. Phlox’s pin didn’t allow him to see what was happening, but he could hear and feel mechanical turning and shifting in the robot appendage that rested between his feet.  “Uh… Minnie?”

“Just a minute!” she shouted back. With an outstretched hand, her palm made contact with some kind of container located in the core of the bot and the chatter and squeaks got even louder. Squinting in the dark, she could just barely make out what was inside. “What the hell?”

The robot’s hand was replaced with the same drillbit that was used earlier to bore into the ground. Phlox immediately clocked the sound of the drill beginning to spin and his fur stood on end as the arm gradually hinged at the elbow, the vicious, tapered helix making its way towards one of his ankles at a cruel, menacingly slow pace. “Hey, let’s hussle!” he hollered, inching his stance wider in hopes to avoid the approaching weapon but committing to holding the robot in place while Domino was still inside. “This thing’s got accessories!”

“Don’t worry,” she whispered to the orb. “I’ll get you outta there.” She clenched her hand into a fist and threw as strong of a punch as she could muster.

Phlox lifted onto his toes to just narrowly avoid the drillbit skimming his heel. He took several short, shallow breaths in preparation for the excruciating pain he was about to endure but suddenly the drill slowed and the arm clanged lifelessly against the ground. 

“Did that work?” Domino’s voice echoed faintly from within the ‘corpse’ bot.

“Yeah,” Phlox released his tight hold on the robot and instead let himself collapse and rest against it, exhaling a sigh of relief. “Phew!”

Teal quills breached from the access panel and Phlox made his way over to carefully assist Domino out, hissing through his teeth at the noticeable scrapes on her shoulders and shirt from the sharp metal. Once she was free, his brow furrowed at the curled up, frightened little animal that the woman cradled in her arms. “...Who’s your friend?”

Domino petted the trembling Pocky. The gentle touch made the critter look up from its cowering stance and upon realizing it was outside, it leapt out of the woman’s arms and bounded away. Domino looked to Phlox, a mixture of concern and anger burning behind her blue eyes. “He was the battery.”

Phlox pursed his lips and took hold of Domino’s hand. They turned towards Robot #2 who was still rolling and trying to untangle itself from its binds. “Let’s go help his buddy.” The pair sprinted to the bot and, to let loose a little bit of steam, Domino kicked it to roll over onto its front. She hurriedly unfastened the screws but Phlox stopped her before she could crawl atop the robot.

“Allow me,” He gripped onto the edges of the open panel and used all his strength to begin to pry the access panel open wider.

“We’re not supposed to break it!” Domino laughed with excitement and shock. She held onto Phlox’s shoulders in a feigned attempt to stop him, but mostly to appreciate his strength.

“Bending isn’t breaking,” he teased with a strained voice. With the panel opening now widened and reshaped so the edges wouldn’t cause as much harm, Phlox patted the metal body of the flailing robot. “There ya go.”

Thrilled, Domino hopped up and lowered herself into the robot with ease. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she reached through the web of wires until her hand tapped against the hidden container. With a loud ‘HYAH!’ Domino punched the container and the barrier popped.

Phlox watched in amusement as the thrashing robot’s eyes dimmed and its movements came to a halt. He was about to peek over the access panel to help Domino out once again but was startled by a very angry Flicky that flew out from the bot. The little bird screeched what Phlox could only imagine was a series of curses as it fluttered to the head of the bot and gave the dome a few angry pecks for good measure before flying away. 

Domino stood upright, a bewildered smile on her face. “We did it.” She jumped out of the mechanical shell and purposefully landed in Phlox’s arms. “We did it!”

“We?!” Phlox burst into that fit of laughter that Domino found herself craving the more she heard it. She laughed breathlessly as he spun her around. “You did it! You were fearless! And your quick-thinking by tying one up so you could deal with the other? I’m beyond impressed!”

“Okay but I would’ve been a Hedgehog-Pancake if it wasn’t for you! You were amazing!” She released her arms from around his neck and inspected his bicep with overly aggressive, playful squeezes. “What was that?!”

Phlox chuckled, his muzzle red with blush. “I told you, I’m one of four brothers. In our house, if you didn’t get good at wrestling, you didn’t get to eat.” He held Domino’s face in his hands and gasped as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh oh oh! Can we talk about that poetic justice?! You taking down those things with pocket-change??? Don’t think your commentary on Capitalism was lost on me.”

Domino giggled and before she knew it, she had planted another kiss on Phlox’s lips. Right now, she wasn’t thinking about how much more dangerous letting him into her heart was compared to the robots she just fought. Right now, she was only consumed with how sweet and clever and astounding he was, and how good he tasted.

“Is it finally over?!” came the shrill voice of the mayor, snapping Domino out of her stupor. She immediately put a good amount of space between her and Phlox. She cleared her throat and combed the tufts of fur on the sides of her face, hoping to hide her blush.

“Yeah, s’all good,” she coughed.

The sweating shrew embraced the lifeless shells of the robots, inspecting them with panic. “And you didn’t break them? Right?! I swear if they’re damaged-”

“Relax,” Domino did her best to mask her irritation. “Your precious little Botniks are without power but otherwise unharmed.”

Phlox crossed his arms, more openly expressive of his annoyance with the politician. “Botniks? More like ‘Badniks’...” He scoffed under his breath. He directed his attention to the shrew. “If you notice anything out of place, you can direct me to the nearest fabrication shop and I’ll do my best to patch them up. I’m a certified steel worker. Though after seeing what ‘good’ these things do, I’m not so sure they’re worth it. Before you go contacting the manufacturer about that extended warranty, maybe you want to focus on your people?”

“Right right,” the Mayor slicked back his sweat-matted fur and adjusted his coat before proudly sticking his chest out. “Alright everyone, nothing to fear! Please return about your business,” He waved his arms as he paraded down the street to weary citizens who hesitantly emerged from their hiding spots. 

Domino dusted off her backpack and secured it to her shoulders when she recognized the high pitched screaming of the two little martens from before. Only this time, their cheering was that of the happy kind. The siblings ran full speed into the lady hedgehog and hugged her tight. “OUR HERO!” they shouted in unison.

Phlox smiled warmly as he watched Domino patting the little girls’ heads affectionately. “Oh hey you!” She knelt down to playfully (and oh so gently) make a slugging motion against the older child’s chin, earning a giggle from the little girl. “You were really brave back there, protecting your little sis like that.”

“YOU’RE the brave one!” the smaller one argued. She then used her childlike energy to bounce around and throw her fists about with karate chops, complete with sound effects. “You were like HOO-SHWAHHH-WHOOOSH!”

“Brie?! Mimolette?!” A mature woman rushed towards the group.

“Mommy mommy, this is her! She’s the lady who saved us!” The woman sighed with relief and scooped all three–the two little girls and Domino–into a tight group hug. Domino blinked in surprise, the embrace feeling strange and foreign.

“Thank you! Thank you for saving my babies!” the woman cried. Domino patted her arm and did her best to squirm out of the hold.

“No prob, besides it was a team effort,” she pointed her thumb at Phlox, whose eyes widened. “If it weren’t for him, those things would still be causin’ a ruckus.”

Phlox tittered nervously. “Oh, well I-” The older marten cut him off by hugging him tightly and wailing a series of ‘thank yous’. Phlox muttered a strained “ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵐʸ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵘʳᵉ.”

Finally the woman released him but took each hedgehog by the hand. “My name’s Fontina. You’ve already met my daughters. Please, come with us to my shop so I can repay you.”

“Oh you don’t have t-” Domino started but was yanked along by the stubborn marten. Mimolette, the youngest, grabbed Domino’s free hand and Brie grabbed Phlox’s and the girls skipped along as the hedgehogs were pulled against their will.

“Honestly ma’am this isn’t necessary,” Phlox chuckled nervously, not used to being doted on by someone other than his own mother.

Domino nodded frantically. “Yeah, we were only doing the right thing. S’no biggie.”

“Yes, biggie!” the woman corrected. “Now then, I don’t have much money–it’s been a slow week for us–but I will let you help yourself to anything in my supply!” The merchant kicked open the door to her shop, a quaint general store equipped with mostly clothing and accessories. As soon as they entered, the little girls darted off and began pulling all manner of garments off their hangers, giggling amongst themselves.

Domino waved her hands dismissively. “Whoa whoa whoa, you seriously don’t need to do that.” She knew what it felt like to work hard and still struggle to make ends meet. She didn’t want to put this family through that. “We don’t wanna take your inventory, especially with you running your own business and all…”

Fontina turned on her heel and placed her hands on her hips, demonstrating a commanding presence that made both young hedgehogs stand up straight and listen obediently. “Without you two stepping in and stopping those dastardly things from destroying the whole marketplace, I’d no longer have a shop at all! Besides, it looks like those baddies did a number on your wardrobe.” The woman plucked at Domino’s tattered top. The teal hedgehog lowered her head and averted her eyes in shame, hoping the merchant remained clueless that the majority of the rips in her clothes came before the battle. “Now, I insist.” The woman held up a blouse to Domino, eyeing her frame and making sure it’d be the right fit, before placing it into the teen’s arms.

The children returned with handfuls of dresses, shirts and shoes, tossing them at Domino faster than she could catch them, while the girls also bombarded her with cheers of “Oh this would look so cute on you!” “Have this one! Have this one!”

Phlox looked on with pride and amusement, his grin stretching across the entirety of his muzzle, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip in a failed attempt to suppress his smile. As silly as it was to see Domino getting smothered in a mountain of clothes, it made his heart happy to see her luck turning around and finally getting some well-earned recognition. As if she could sense his gaze, Domino looked over at him, peeking out from the pile of garments. She widened her eyes and silently mouthed the words ‘Help me.’

His grin widened but it was now filled to the brim with mischief. Though he was still getting to know Domino, he figured she would be too proud to admit she could really use some of the items she was being given and no way in hell was he going to let her be talked out of it. Plus, Phlox didn’t need anything himself and figured his time could be better spent returning outside and helping clean up some of the rubble. Better to keep the attention on her. He shrugged as he quietly backed away, as if to say ‘Sorry, not rescuing you this time.’ Phlox teased her with a wink before slinking out of her view.

Domino called to him as loudly as one could while still maintaining the volume of a whisper, his name coming out like an oh-so-faint shriek, “Phlox! Phlox!” But it was too late, he was already gone without the merchant or her daughters noticing. Domino grumbled. She was totally going to kick his jean-wearin’ tush later.

On his way out, Phlox happened to spot one item hanging on the wall that did intrigue him. He removed it from its hook to inspect it. Despite Fontina’s instructions, he left some money on the counter to pay for his purchase and exited the shop.

.

Being fussed over was… weird. It wasn’t bad, per say. But it certainly felt unusual.

Domino ruminated over the bizarre day she had, her backpack weighted by a full assortment of foods and her arms carrying large, overstuffed bags as she made her way to the inn. She had probably spent at least two hours at the general store with the marten family who refused to let her leave without several shopping bags full of things she definitely didn’t need. It was exhausting having all that attention on her, dodging all of the shopkeeper’s questions and quickly improvising innocent little fibs on the fly. Still, it was a really sweet gesture and she honestly couldn’t remember the last time an authority figure had been so kind to her. 

When Domino mentioned that she was going to see if there were still any food carts left standing in order to purchase some groceries, the two little girls pulled on her arms and begged to join her. She couldn’t understand why these kids seemed so fixated on her, but something about them tugged on her heartstrings and with their mother’s permission, Domino agreed to let them tag along. She held each child by the hand as they escorted her down the alley, pointing at their favorite stands and making recommendations of which ingredients she should buy. Domino felt a warmth blooming in her heart, a sense of longing and pride that was foreign yet so deeply ingrained in her instincts that it also felt natural. She couldn’t place what this feeling was, but she welcomed it all the same.

Thanks to the marten family supplying her with all the free clothes she could want, Domino had plenty of money that she could spend on food supplies both for tonight’s dinner and for the approaching winter. She even got a huge deal on produce, as many of the items were blemished from the robots’ earlier antics, but of course she didn’t mind. Food was food, after all. Here she thought she’d be down to her last penny, but it looked like she’d have some ‘emergency funds’ to last her over the next season. For the first time, luck seemed to be favoring her. 

All of that, paired with her melee against a couple of crazy robots? This was a strange couple of days indeed! Not to mention being treated to her first ever date, on her way for a second date at that. Domino bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the butterflies that filled her stomach once again. Even if that ‘jerk’ had ditched her at the shop, she was thrilled to get to see him again. Perhaps she’d force him to sit through a ‘fashion show’ of all the superfluous outfits she was given. Yeah, that’d make for excellent payback!

She chuckled at the thought as she entered the lobby of the inn and made her way to the stairs to find Phlox’s room. The innkeeper had been lazily relaxing, his feet propped up on his desk, until the sight of the teal hedgehog startled him and the dog jumped to attention.

“Excuse me,” he approached her and Domino stopped and tilted her head. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh, I’m meeting a friend,” she gestured towards the stairs. The innkeeper blocked her path and pointed at the bags in her hands.

“And where did you get all that?” he scowled.

Domino tensed and furrowed her brows. “...From the store…”

“All these goodies, yet you can’t afford a good shirt?” The large dog looped his finger under one of the straps of Domino’s tattered tank top. She jerked her shoulder away in reflex.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed low, her quills raising on end.

The man tugged on one of the shopping bags to check inside. “You got a receipt for this stuff?”

Domino’s breath quickened, her blood boiling and making her skin feel uncomfortably hot. “These were given to me, as a gift.”

“Ch’yeah, another one of your tall tales,” the dog remarked. The hedgehog girl’s mouth fell agape and his look grew even more smug. “In this town, word spreads. I know how you’ve been lurking around, spinning your web of lies any time anybody asks what brings you here. You think you can go around lying and thieving and then hide out in my establishment?”

Her face was burning hot with rage, but she wasn’t sure if she was more mad at the guy throwing accusations or angry with herself. Yes, she had made up some things, but never at the expense of anyone, never to hurt anybody else or to try to swindle them. Her stories were her means of deflecting and protecting herself from harm, and here they led right to this heated confrontation. “I’m not lying!” Domino insisted. She threw her arms down and let the shopping bags crash to the floor. “Go ahead and take them, I don’t even need any of this stuff!”

“Don’t you try to offload your haul on me, you little street rat!” he raised his voice even louder. “Now beat it before I call the authorities!”

“Hey!” A third voice boomed from the stairway. Phlox made his way towards the two, his shoulders straight and upright so that he commanded attention. He pushed himself between the innkeeper and Domino, shielding her with his arm. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” His tone was far more serious and firm than the gentle, melodic voice he used whenever he spoke with the girl. “This is the woman who just saved this city from those two rogue machines out there. She’s the reason this inn is still standing.” He stared down the annoyed man. Even though the innkeeper was larger and Phlox was normally soft spoken and shy, at this moment he didn’t feel even an inkling of anxiety. Something about Domino’s presence and–more importantly–the compelling need to defend her made him feel more confident than ever before. He pointed his finger into the dog’s chest. “I’ll testify for her, as will Fontina the shop owner, and a dozen other people who will as well. Including your esteemed mayor. So go ahead, make that phone call. Or leave her be.”

The man glared silently for several intense beats but when he realized the indigo hedgehog wasn’t backing down, he scoffed and returned to his desk.

Phlox turned back to Domino, taking her by the hand and using his other to help pick up her bags. “Come on,” he said softly, using the gentle voice she had come to know. But as he led her up the stairs, she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Instead, her mind was racing with a million thoughts that were far louder and more painful.

Stupid. This was so stupid. She was so stupid.

Why did she let herself think these last few days were any different than every other day of her life? How could she think that the people of this town were any different than every other hateful, judgemental stranger she came across? What on earth made her think that for once, just once, she might be able to go about without the world thinking so little of her? But they were right to think these things. She was wild and dirty and stupid, so stupid.

The hedgehogs had made their way to Phlox’s room and he pulled out the chair to the small dining area so that Domino could sit, but her mind was still reeling. Her eyes darted around, taking in the pristine bedding that was more warm and more sterile than anything she’d ever laid on, to the stark white paint on the walls that felt constricting and nauseating, to the state-of-the-art kitchenette with a stovetop full of buttons that she had no idea how to use. She didn’t belong in this world. Her gaze stayed fixated on the stove. Chaos, how was she supposed to cook dinner for a guy using equipment that she knew nothing about? For a perfect guy part of this perfect world, all of which she had no business associating with. For all the far-fetched stories she told throughout her life, the idea of belonging to this perfect world with this perfect guy was the most unbelievable and she was a fool to let herself fall for her own fantasy.

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. ‘Stop crying,’ she thought to herself, breathing quickly and heavily through her nose. ‘Stop crying. Stop crying.’ Domino repeated the phrase over and over in her mind in an endless loop until the voice inside her head evolved into the angry, aggressive voice from whom she had first learned the phrase. Her stepfather.

‘STOP CRYING!’

Her train of thought was broken as she felt a warmth in her hand and she turned her head to see that Phlox was kneeling before her, her hand in his. His green and amber eyes searched hers, looking deep beyond the surface. He studied her with an intense focus, hoping he could learn what was hurting her so badly but worried that if he spoke, she might completely break. He could sense that this went beyond the little altercation that just happened in the lobby. There was a deep, festering agony from an old, hidden wound that refused to scar over. Phlox gave her a weak, pained smile, for it hurt him to know that someone as resilient as Domino had a heart made of glass and that something from her past was still chipping away at it.

His soft gaze and the colors in his irises brought her back to the grotto, that wondrous moment of serenity where pain and pressure didn’t exist. A calming wave gradually washed over her, soothing her burning skin and easing the agitated twitching in her muscles.

“I’m okay,” she breathed shakily. A fib. Phlox didn’t want to cause any more distress, but he decided to press her ever so gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, his soft voice full of compassion.

Domino shook her head. “No, I don’t.” It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but it was the truth, and that mattered to him most. He would respect that. “But-” she started and Phlox leaned in closer to give her his full attention. The woman looked at the kitchenette once more, biting her lip. “Could we… have our dinner date ‘campfire style’?” She gave him an embarrassed smile. “Maybe we can pick a pretty spot to get a fire going and it’ll give you the chance to snap some more pics while I prepare the stew?”

“Sure!” Phlox grinned enthusiastically. He gave her a wink and opted to tease her a bit to help cut some of the previous tension from the air. “You’re the one who asked me on this date, so the details are up to you. I’m at your mercy, Minnie.”

Domino giggled and Phlox sighed with relief to hear her laughter again. When their eyes met once more, hers were free of tears. She tilted her head when she spotted something in her periphery. “Is that what I think it is?”

The teal hedgehog hurried past Phlox and chuckled with wicked delight as she picked up the item that was resting near the foot of the bed. She spun around and sat down on the mattress, proudly holding up an olive-colored bag. “Did I successfully convince you to join Team Backpack?!”

Phlox looked down at his boots, swinging one leg bashfully. “Yeah, well…” He wanted to say the phrase he had been practicing repeatedly in the hours since he grabbed the pack from the shop: ‘I got this because… I’d like to come with you, if you’ll let me.’ But the words wouldn’t come out. He shrugged and gave himself a bit of grace; being bold was still new to him and after all, Spagonia wasn’t built in a day! “...You can be pretty persuasive.” He walked over and sat next to her. “How’d I do? Does it meet your standards?”

“Let’s see…” Domino turned the bag around in her hands, playfully humming. “Water resistant material… Double passed stitching… Well-padded straps for those brawny shoulders of yours!” Phlox chuckled sheepishly. She unzipped the bag and continued her survey. “Oooh, plenty spacious. This is quite the find, Birdy!” 

“Phew, what a relief!” he joked. “Speaking of, are you going to show me your haul?” He thumbed at the bags still resting near the entry. “I noticed the girls picking out some ‘darling’ outfits for you that I’m sure you’re just dying to try on.” He batted his eyelashes in mockery.

“Eh,” Domino grimaced. “The ladies were really sweet and I definitely needed some replacement threads, but I was planning on giving most of that back.”

The smile dropped from Phlox’s face. “Give it back? This isn’t about what that jerk downstairs said, is it?”

“No, no!” The young woman insisted, waving her hands. “I mean, not entirely.” Phlox maintained his serious gaze and sensing he wasn’t going to let it go without an explanation, Domino resigned with a sigh. “I’m grateful for all these gifts, honest! But I can’t-…” she chose her words carefully, an attempt to tell the truth without revealing too much, “...I’ve got a code: Necessities only. I don’t need a lot of this stuff, but that lady wouldn’t let me leave without my hands full!”

Phlox exhaled a laugh through his nose. The irony of this girl who didn’t show a hint of fear when it came to confronting evil giant robots, but was too scared to tell a woman and her daughters ‘No thank you,’ was just too adorable.

“Which is whyyyy~...” Domino grinned, a rascally glint in her blue eyes. “You’re going to help me pull a reverse-heist!”

“Whoa now, why are you roping me into this?” the purple hedgehog laughed. 

She placed her hands on her hips. “You said I’m in charge of this date. What we do and where we go is my choice, and I choose phase one of the night to be a backwards-burglary-mission!”

Phlox raised an eyebrow but his smile was filled with mirth. “You do know breaking-and-entering is against the law, even if you’re giving stuff instead of taking stuff, right?”

“Santa does it all the time and I don’t hear anybody complainin’ about him,” Domino quipped. “I won’t make you go in there with me. I’m just asking you to be my lookout. Will you keep an eye out for me?” She went to tap his snout but he swiftly caught her hand within his own.

“I’d rather keep my eyes on you,” he remarked, his voice low and laced with flirty mischief. 

His tone and the look in his eyes made Domino gasp. Until now she hadn’t noticed how their fingers had interlaced or how they had leaned into one another so closely she could feel the tickle of Phlox’s breath on her muzzle. She was tempted to pull him in for another kiss, but in the privacy of this room and with the warmth in her lower belly growing stronger with the frequency of these interactions she had to wonder: would it only be a kiss?

Phlox noticed the blush creeping along the woman’s cheeks and he suddenly realized their proximity and the intimate implication of the bed they were sitting on. Alarmed by his own urge to close the gap between them, he reluctantly released her hand and nervously scratched his increasingly crimson muzzle, averting his gaze. “Uh y-yeah, yes,” he sputtered, his usual smooth cadence now quick and broken. “Of course I’ll look out for you.” Before Domino could say anything, Phlox had already made his way to the other side of the room with his hands in his pockets. “So, what’s the plan?”

.

Domino chuckled to herself, recalling how Phlox had been stunned speechless while she effortlessly scaled the wall of the shop and pried open an upper window to let herself in. Once inside, she had quietly whistled a bird call to signal him to toss her the bag of clothes. Then, she neatly piled the garments on top of the cashwrap and, using the notepad she borrowed from Phlox, attached a message expressing her gratitude to the marten family. Domino crawled out through the same window and upon closing it, she let herself fall into Phlox’s arms and they ran off into the forest with hushed, nervous giggles.

Now the two hedgehogs settled quietly into an overlook, the small town a twinkling, insignificant patch compared to the wide open forests that seemed to melt into the night sky. As beautiful as it all was, Domino couldn’t help but think about how this weekend was no different: a small blip in an infinite timeline of events. She anxiously fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket, one of the few gifts she kept from the shop owner. She didn’t really need Phlox’s help returning the rest of the garments, not even as a lookout. Stealth was one of her greatest skills and she could have easily gotten in and out of the shop without anyone ever knowing she was there. But she wanted him there. With her. 

With the sun fully set and the stew boiling over the campfire, this brief little adventure was quickly drawing to a close. She would have repaid her debt by supplying Phlox dinner and at first sunlight she’d be gone, never to see him again. Logically, she knew it was for the best, but the thought made her stomach feel more hollow than any amount of starvation had ever done. So she prolonged their time together, even if only for an extra half hour, by having Phlox ‘assist’ her in their silly heist scheme. Despite herself, she was also glad the meal they agreed on would take longer to prepare than others. 

“If there was a movie about our escapades, what would it be called?” Phlox asked, attaching his camera to a tripod.

Domino pondered, stoking the fire. “How ‘bout: ‘Young & Stupid: The Do-Gooder Duo’?”

“Mmnnnhh,” the male skewed his lips in disapproval. “Needs some work.”

“Hey, titles aren’t my strong suit, okay?” She huffed, stepping away from the fire and plopping down next to Phlox who was still making adjustments to his camera. “The meat of the story’s more important anyway.”

“Well, you are great at telling stories.” The indigo male smiled and then sniffed the seasonings in the air, licking his lips. “And cooking as well? That stew smells amazing!”

“We’ll see~” Domino rubbed her hands together enthusiastically. “This recipe is tried and true, but I’ve never made it with chiles before.”

She laid onto her back, looking up at the sea of stars and crescent moon. “It’s so dark tonight,” she furrowed her brows and rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at the photographer. “How are you supposed to take any pictures?”

“It’s doable.” Phlox said simply. “You just have to be thoughtful about it. And you have to be very patient.” The woman scrunched up her nose at the word and Phlox laughed. “Hey, spontaneity is a lot of fun too but trust me, patience can be equally rewarding. If I keep the camera steady–hense the tripod–and use a slow shutter speed to allow the lens to capture as much light as possible, it’s just a matter of time before the beauty of the night reveals itself. I can’t rush it.”

Phlox’s heart fluttered at how similarly this technique compared to how he was hoping to slowly ease Domino out of her shell. He hoped the metaphor was not lost on her. He clicked the shutter release button and turned his attention to Domino, a smug expression on his face. “And I am a master of patience.” 

“Good, ‘cuz it’s gonna be a couple hours until that stew’s ready,” the lady teased. “How do you wanna pass the time?”

He rubbed the scruff of his muzzle in thought. “Would you tell me another story?” 

Domino sat upright, looking out across the vast expanse of the valley below while pondering what tale to weave for him tonight, their last night together… the last story she’d ever tell him. She looked over at him, admiring the care he took to snap the shutter release again and carefully back away from the camera as if his movements might startle it. She adored him, and she hated herself for letting that happen–for tricking him into spending time with a Nobody like her and for believing that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t inevitably hurt her, too.

Perhaps it would be better to avoid an adventurous fable that would leave the curious male to want to know the next chapter. Maybe, she thought, she should tell him the most boring, meaningless story she knew.

Her gaze shifted back to the town. “Far away, there lived The Girl Who Had Nothing. But because she didn’t know what it was like to have anything, being without did not dampen her spirits. One day, Fate approached her and told her she needed to give something up. ‘But I have nothing to give,’ The Girl said. ‘You have a father, don’t you?’ And so Fate took her father away. Later, a Man took his place and told The Girl she needed to give something up, again. ‘But… I have nothing to give,’ she insisted. ‘You have joy, don’t you?’ The Man said, and so he took her smile. Then her mother told The Girl she needed to give something up. ‘Please, I have nothing to give you,’ she pleaded. But the mother argued, ‘I gave you my heart, didn’t I? Return it to me.’ And so the Girl did.”

Domino subconsciously reached up and brushed the scarred over rip in her ear. 

“Without a home, she wandered the streets and with each new stranger she met, they took more and more from her. ‘But I have nothing to give you!’ The Girl cried, but the townspeople found things they could take. Her dignity. Her pride. Her hope. So at last, The Girl hid herself away in the wild where nobody could find her. If nobody could see her, then they couldn’t take the things she didn’t even know she had.”

Phlox listened with a quiet intensity, a tear rolling down his cheek. His heart broke for her, but equally he was so grateful to her for letting him in on this secret. This moment of pure vulnerability was… monumental. It didn’t make her weak, it only proved how strong she was. Phlox wondered how he could prove to Domino that she was more than she believed, to make her see herself through his eyes.

“But Fate seemed to have a sense of humor… For as she became one with the wilderness, she soon discovered a happiness like she had never known before. Unlike the others who took, The Earth provided. It gave her food to eat and shelter for her to rest. The varying terrains gave her an endless playground where she could freely experience joy. With nothing and nobody to hold her back, she got to make every day an adventure. It took years but she learned to stop thinking about all the things she did not have and focus on all the things she did have. And The Girl Who Had Nothing came to realize that that was … Everything…”

She inhaled deeply and released it, surprised at the weightlessness she felt at this moment. She felt free.

The crackling of the fire masked the soft sound of a shutter clicking. After a pause, Phlox broke the silence. “Well,” he said softly, almost as a whisper. Domino returned her attention back to him and saw that he had adjusted the camera and had snapped a photograph of her. “I think… I might as well quit my career now while I’m ahead,” he looked at her, and though another tear ran down his cheek, he smiled genuinely. “Because I’m certain that was the most beautiful photo I’ll ever take in my life.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. 

Without warning, Domino lunged into him and crashed her lips into his. Phlox briefly stumbled back from shock, but it was only a matter of seconds before he confidently cupped her face in his palms and kissed her back. This wasn’t like the kiss back in the creek, tender and full of bashful smiles. This time Domino was more desperate, pressing into him as if her very life depended on it. Her arms snaked around his neck and she threaded her hands into his quills. Phlox let out a startled hum as the woman pulled him closer, but her assertion was a pleasant surprise and he felt encouraged to slip his arms down to her waist and hold her tightly. Secured to his muscular form, Domino was reminded of how effortlessly he overpowered those metal monsters from before, and she sighed as her mind went to wild, forbidden places.

Feeling her breath on his lips caused him to instinctively open his mouth to hers and deepen the kiss. Domino tugged on his quills at the new sensation and kissed him back even more passionately. Warmth raged throughout her entire body, from the center of her core to her very fingertips. The heat was getting overwhelming so without breaking the kiss she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it aside. The winter air was crisp on her exposed arms but offered little help in cooling her, even with her short pelt. She combed her fingers through Phlox’s chest fur, comparing how thick and dense it was compared to hers. She wondered how he could stand to be so warm and yet she equally wanted to feel him against her completely and bask in all his warmth.

Domino laid back onto the grass, pulling Phlox with her. He braced himself up with one forearm against the ground so as not to crush all of his weight into the small woman, but didn’t allow for any space to come between them. Motivated by her passion, Phlox broke free from her lips only to kiss every bit of the girl that enamored him. He kissed along her jaw, her cheeks, breathing roughly into the tufts of teal that framed her muzzle. His lips grazed down her neck and shoulders, delicately kissing the small scratches from the day’s battle in an attempt to heal them as well as praise her bravery. Domino petted his scruffy cheek that was so red with blush that even the darkness of the night could not hide it, and when he felt the affectionate gesture he turned to kiss her palm and stroked his free hand through her long, windswept quills. Upon one of the passes, his thumb brushed against the tear in her ear. He paused his kisses to look up at the old wound, gently tracing the scarred over flesh. If it were anybody else, Domino would have recoiled from the touch, but here she allowed Phlox to explore. He then leaned over her to kiss her damaged ear and the teal hedgehog let out a wistful, trembling moan. If only for this one moment, she was convinced that his kiss was not only able to physically heal the old injury but also erase the very memory associated with it.

Her fingertips skirted along the edge of his waistline and the fluttering sensation it caused made Phlox gasp and shudder. He lifted himself up just enough to hover over her to meet her gaze, his eyes wide.

Domino knew that the question that was lingering on the edge of her tongue was stupid and reckless, but at this moment she didn’t care about that. Her entire methodology was about prioritizing needs, and what was this aching and excruciating hunger in her core if not one of the most natural, most powerful needs? She noted Phlox’s ragged breathing, how his broad chest and shoulders rose and fell as he panted, and how his quills stiffened and his fur stood on end with exhilaration, and she could tell that he felt the need, too. So despite the consequences, she summoned the courage to ask the most wonderful, handsome being she’d ever met for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“Do you wanna…?” 

She didn’t finish her sentence, but Phlox understood what she was asking. He knew the wise thing to do would be to say no. Heck, the mere fact she wasn’t willing to say it out loud meant they were probably too naive and inexperienced for this. But maybe he didn’t need to be wise, for once. He was young; still figuring out life, learning what it meant to live in the moment. And now, as if by fate, he found this beautiful young lady, the living embodiment of free-spirit. She represented so much of what he aspired to be, what he was hoping to discover in himself when he first embarked on this journey. Sure he didn’t know her that well yet, but he wanted to know her fully. Maybe she’d let him, with time. But they had right now. 

Besides, this girl may have had a habit of fibbing, but Phlox certainly didn’t. The truth came naturally to him. 

“Yes.”

♥ ♥ ♥

After one last check to make sure all of her supplies were accounted for, Domino quietly zipped up her backpack and swung it onto her shoulder. The early morning sky was just beginning to shift in hues as the rising sun sat just below the horizon. It was time to hit the road in order to outrun the approaching winter and go wherever her feet took her. There was only one last thing to do…

Careful not to make a sound, Domino sat down at the dining table and flipped through Phlox’s notebook to find an empty page. The pencil hovered over the paper in her trembling hand.

What could she possibly write?

She had briefly toyed with the idea of not writing anything at all, but that thought made her even more sick to her stomach. She looked over to the purple hedgehog sleeping soundly under the covers, a gentle, barely-there smile on his muzzle. Even though she believed it was in her heart’s best interest for her to leave now and even though she hoped he would soon forget about her, she also deeply believed she was a better person for having met him. She had to express her gratitude, at least.

After a few scratched out attempts, the page was left with a simple message:

Dear Phlox, I want you to know I hope that you Thank you, for making me better than when you found me. - Domi - Minnie

She pressed her back to the door, allowing herself one last look at Phlox and praying that that gentle smile would never leave his face. Quietly, she slipped out of the room before she could change her mind.

Leave things better than when she found them. 

That was her creed. It was better to leave now. Leave before he discovered the truth behind the boring, insignificant runaway. Instead, leave him happy with perhaps a couple of fleeting, fond memories of a girl he’d forget soon enough. After all…

It was only a couple of days.

[Next: EPILOGUE]

[eugenedebs1920]

The unhinged inauguration speech, the sieg hail solute at the inauguration celebration, the pardoning or EVERYTHING SINGLE Jan 6th seditionist, the unconstitutional attempt to end birthright citizenship, the immigration crackdowns with clowns like doctor Phil, and dog killer cosplay cowboy Krist Noem, the wholly unqualified animated, absurd nominations and the circus at the capital of confirmation, the tariffs….

What’s the one thing they didn’t want getting headlines? Which event is Elon musk threatening to sue over? Which one required state marshals to intervene? The Treasury Department hack.

There’s not much I agree with, would have in common with, or would condone that Trump engages in. There’s not much I can promote regarding his behavior, his policies, or his ethics. What I will say he’s good at, is marketing.

He went from bankruptcy, owing millions to various banks, to playing the role of a successful businessman on TV, to accidentally winning the presidency. He has sold his brand better than most, in par with the best.

Trump exudes arrogance, ignorance, sleaziness, incompetence, inexperience, stupidity, and a complete lack of grace or manners, just to name a few. He has marketed his brand as something that doesn’t resemble a cheap Chinese knockoff, which it most certainly is. People buy it! You gotta give him credit for that.

In this Ezra Klein piece there’s an interview with Steve Bannon, he talks about “flooding the zone” with chaos. He called it “muzzle velocity” This is the distraction from the actual crimes.

To quote the video, “Trump is acting like a king, because he’s too weak to govern like a president.” The so called mandate, didn’t crack 50% of the vote. The margin in the house is the slimmest since the Great Depression. The senate is 47-53. Per the norm it’s costume jewelry, its playtime getups, its dress up in the Oval Office. It’s cosplay.

Don’t give him the power he doesn’t have. There is a system in place in this representative democratic constitutional republic that has held for 249 years! A system that survived a civil war, two world wars, a great depression, a monumental civil right movement, an anti-war coalition that worked. One man. One tyrant can not just simple walk into the White House and proclaim he doesn’t have to abide by this governance that is the law.

Just because he’s a criminal doesn’t mean it’s not illegal when he does it.

As many federal employees have been unifying under when asked to resign or be terminated, ‘Hold the line.” He is not a king, he is not the ruler, he just plays one on TV.

Resist. Hold the line. Don’t obey in advance. Never submit. Don’t believe him.

🇺🇸

[markwateneymemorialcrater]

So one of my favourite sci-fi weapons is simply just extremely overpowered kinetic weaponry.

Think rail guns and that sort of thing that simply accelerate a projectile to incredible velocities. Of course the velocities of non-existent fictional weaponry are up to the author writing them. But for the sake of analogy, let’s say you have a weapon that can accelerate a 1kg projectile to 2997925m/s. This is 1% the speed of light in a vacuum.

Now to help put this insane speed into perspective. Let’s imagine we have our cannon at earth at are firing it at the moon. It would take this projectile just over 2 minutes to get to the moon. That is 384,400km traveled in 2 mins and 8 seconds.

For added context, the largest artillery cannon ever made, The Paris gun, could fire a projectile over 130km with a muzzle velocity of 1640m/s. It still took the projectile over 3 minutes to reach its target.

Now back to our 1kg projectile traveling at 1% the speed of light. When it impacts the moon. It will deliver 0.45x10^13 Joules of kinetic energy.

The Hiroshima nuclear bomb delivered approximately 1.8x10^13 joules of energy

This means that our 1kg projectile hits with the punch of 1/4 of a city destroying nuclear bomb.

It’s truly incredible how much energy you can store in something just by making it go really fast. Which coincidently, is also really helpful when you are wanting to deliver that energy to a target in as short a period as possible.

[valkayrieactual]

if you got a weapons array installed, what would it feature?

this took me fucking ages to answer in a way I actually felt happy with, anywhos...

internal:

* electroshock knuckles for hand to hand, output amperage ranges from light tickle to heart stopping, can be used as a defibrillator or jump start combustion engines in a pinch

* popup forearm mount for ferromagnetic collapsible blade, hilt contains a self assembling blade core that aligns metal dust into a mono molecular edge, can be deployed in its forearm mount on either side of my arm or eject the hilt into my hand for more traditional swordplay

* ammo feed/reloader for magazine loaded projectile weapons, contains multiple spare mags for favored projectile pistol and rifle, able to reload magazines automatically in internal compartment

* direct connection and induction pads in palms capable of powering as well as siphoning power from energy weapons

* embedded magnetic mounts for firearms in each thigh and behind each shoulder

external:

* 9mm pistol with integrated muzzle brake

* helical railgun based rifle with data link for in eye HUD muzzle velocity control, targeting, status, diagnostics, and sensors

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Verlangen (pistol)

Type: Semi-automatic heavy pistol

Place of origin: Merdengard, Lyran Commonwealth

Designer: ???

Designed: c. ???

Manufacturer: Custom / One-off

Produced: 1 unit

Users: Dieter Marten-Steiner

Overview: Verlangen is a custom-engineered heavy handgun designed as a personal sidearm for Dieter Marten-Steiner of the Merdengard-based Marten-Steiner family. It combines elements from both revolver and semi-automatic pistol designs and is optimized for armor penetration and high stopping power.

Feeding system: An 8-round detachable magazine feeding a dual-chambered rotary cylinder.

Action: The weapon utilizes a toggle-lock action similar to the ancient Luger P08. Upon firing, the toggle-lock actuates under recoil, extracting and ejecting spent casings while the rest of the action cycles the next round into place.

Recoil System: Recoil is partially mitigated through a multi-port muzzle brake and an internal magnetorheological balanced recoil system.

Materials: The main frame is machined from a titanium-vanadium alloy for strength and thermal resistance. The grips are made from inlaid wood, reinforced internally for durability. Despite its complexity, Verlangen is designed for field reliability under limited conditions, with the assumption of regular expert maintenance.

Caliber: .46 (11.68 mm)

Case Length: 46 mm

Bullet Mass: 23 grams

Muzzle Velocity: ~945–975 m/s

Muzzle Energy: ~4,100 joules

Chamber Pressure: up to 65,000 psi

Feed System: 8-round detachable box magazine

Ammunition: Verlangen fires a proprietary cartridge, combining a polymer-metal foam hybrid casing with an armor-piercing high-explosive hollow-point (APHE-HP) projectile. The standard projectiles, all being fully custom-manufactured, are designed to achieve penetration against high-grade personal and light vehicle armor, while also ensuring devastating performance against soft targets. The standard projectile combines a "Clan copper" expanding jacket with a sub-caliber armor-piercing explosive penetrator fused to detonate several micro-seconds post-impact. In organic targets, detonation often occurs after jacket expansion is complete.

Appearance and Finish: Verlangen is highly customized. It features hand-engraved, platinum/germanium-filigree inlay detailing along the frame, including the Marten-Steiner family crest. The grips are made from the bark of Merdengard's native Bluteispflaume tree, engraved and lacquered, secured with custom-forged grip screws.