#seaboard block

[tama-the-toe]

Illuminate Your Music.

Light up your sound with the world’s first keyboard controller with per-key pitchbend and polyphonic aftertouch, plus whole-key illumination that sparks new ideas for playing and composing. Watch as ROLI’s three instruments – Seaboard RISE 2, Seaboard BLOCK M, and LUMI Keys Studio Edition – come together to create a symphony of multidimensional harmony and witness the future of musical…

[anarchistcommunism]

On the night of November 13th we set fire to 6 Ernst Concrete trucks at 553 Seaboard Industrial Drive. Ernst is pouring the foundation for Cop City. This site, like so many others, is completely unguarded. Front-pouring cement mixing trucks have large rear engine compartments which can be accessed without opening any doors. We placed incendiary devices and kindling near the engine block, the fuel tank behind it, and the double rear tires. We encourage further experimentation with incindiary placement. There was a time when contractors were afraid to take on this project. If we can make the cost of the contract greater than the profit, they will drop it. Sneaking around at night is fun and burning shit is cool.

[houseofpurplestars]

"Make Contractors Afraid Again:

Posted on November 15, 2023-

On the night of November 13th we set fire to 6 Ernst concrete trucks at 553 Seaboard Industrial Drive. Ernst is pouring the foundation for Cop City. This site, like so many others, is completely unguarded.

Front-pouring cement mixing trucks have large rear engine compartments which can be accessed without opening any doors. We placed incendiary devices and kindling near the engine block, the fuel tank behind it, and the double rear tires. We encourage further experimentation with incendiary placement.

There was a time when contractors were afraid to take on this project. If we can make the cost of the contract greater than the profit, they will drop it. Sneaking around at night is fun and burning shit is cool."

[mandoalorian]

Hi, I love the way you write Bucky. But it made me think if Bucky never fell. If Steve had sacrificed himself and Bucky had to come back to Brooklyn w/o Steve. How he would have fared. Maybe he has a girl, how about his family. How he would have kept Steve’s memory alive. Would they have met again when Steve was found.

Sorry, this is my first time requesting a fic so if something is wrong. I apologize. Thank you!!!

hi! thank you for trusting me with your first ever request! i’m sorry it took me a little time to get around to. i hope you enjoy the story. it was super interesting to explore, especially the reverse roles. i felt like i was writing an episode of 'what if...'❤️‍🔥

i am gonna grow wings [captain america!bucky barnes x reader]

synopsis: in an alternate reality where steve sacrifices himself, bucky returns to brooklyn a broken man, haunted by loss and memories. even with the love and strength of you waiting for him at home, he struggles to carry steve’s legacy and find his own path as the new captain america.

warnings: descriptions of depression, suicidal ideations, the different stages of grief/mourning, canon typical themes and violence. suitable for teens and above.

word count: 3200

masterlist

November, 1944 ༊*·˚

The snow whipped sideways through the broken hull of the Valkyrie as Bucky fought his way down the corridor, gun in hand, pulse in his throat. The sound of metal creaking under pressure was almost louder than the gunfire outside. He ducked behind a wall as a HYDRA agent crumpled at Steve’s feet ahead of him, shield returning to his hand like a promise kept.

“Buck, we’re running out of time!” Steve’s voice called back, hoarse but firm.

Bucky shoved past the last stretch of wreckage and reached his side. The control panel was blinking red erratically. The auto-navigation was set. The plane was headed straight for civilisation, loaded with enough bombs to turn the Eastern Seaboard into ash.

Bucky grabbed his arm. “We can land it. There’s gotta be another way.”

Steve looked at him — really looked. The way he always did when he was about to do something reckless and noble and stupid.

“There’s not.”

“No—no, don’t pull this crap, Steve. You don’t get to be the hero again. Not without me. We do this together. We win this fight, together.”

“This way Buck, we can both be heroes,” Steve said quietly. “And it means you get to go home.”

Bucky shook his head furiously, trying to keep the panic from cracking open his chest. “No, not without you! You jump, I jump. Remember?”

Steve gave a weak smile. “That was when we were kids.”

“You’re still that kid. You just got bigger and—dumber. Stevie, don’t do this.”

Steve stepped past him and placed the shield gently in Bucky’s arms. The weight of it was staggering. “Take this. Keep it safe. For me.”

Bucky looked down at it, then up at Steve like he’d just handed him his own heart.

“Don’t make me bury you,” Bucky said, voice catching.

But Steve was already stepping into the cockpit. Already turning the radio dial.

“Peggy…” he said. “I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

The signal cut.

“No—STEVE—” Bucky ran to the window, slamming his fist against the glass.

Below, the white expanse of the Arctic stretched endlessly. The plane veered slightly, then straightened.

Then silence.

Bucky stood there with the shield clutched to his chest and nothing but wind and grief in his lungs.

He didn’t even feel the snow melting in his hair as the rescue chopper came to pull him out.

— 𖤓 —

The Brooklyn streets felt smaller than you remembered, tighter and heavier like they were holding their breath. The autumn air smelled faintly of wood smoke and rain, but you barely noticed.

You waited by the window, heart pinned to the rhythm of every passing footstep and engine hum. When the old military jeep finally rattled down the block and stopped at the curb, you barely had time to steady yourself before the door swung open.

Bucky stepped out, taller, broader, but somehow smaller too. His face was hollowed, eyes like dark glass reflecting everything he wanted to forget. The weight of the war clung to him, dragging him down in slow motion.

He didn’t say a word. Just walked through the door and dropped his pack by the threshold.

You were there before he could shut it, arms wrapping around him, pulling him close like you could stop the world from spinning without Steve.

He sagged into you, forehead resting on your shoulder. The shield, still strapped to his back, felt impossibly heavy, like carrying the whole war on his shoulders.

“Steve...” His voice cracked, barely a whisper.

You squeezed him tighter. “I know, honey. I read about it in the paper. I know it hurts. But you’re here. You came home. And I am so glad to see you again.”

His breath hitched, a strangled sound. “It should have been me.”

“No,” you said softly, brushing damp strands of hair from his face. “You were supposed to come back. That’s why you’re here.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something solid. “But I feel so empty without him. It’s been months and, God, how do I live like this? How do I carry his memory without breaking?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You don’t have to carry it alone. Not anymore. You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky’s gaze faltered, and he leaned into you again, resting his head on your chest this time. His hands clenched at your waist, trembling slightly.

“Can we just… go to bed?”

It was early noon, and the sun was still shining bright in the sky. The delicious scent of the roast dinner you had prepared for your boyfriend’s arrival filled the apartment, but Bucky didn’t have the appetite. He was so tired. In fact, this feeling was more than exhaustion. His whole body ached with mental torment.

You nodded, heart aching for the man that you loved so dearly. “Yes, let’s go to bed.”

Later, as the room grew quiet except for the rain tapping softly on the window, you held him close. His body was tense at first, like he was trying to hold himself together.

But eventually, he relaxed into you — breathing slowing, shoulders lowering.

You whispered against his hair, “You’re not alone, Buck. I’m right here.”

He didn’t answer, but you felt the tremble of his sigh against your skin.

And for the first time since the war, maybe since the plane crashed, Bucky let himself fall asleep — safe in your arms.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and tentative. You stirred first, still cradling Bucky’s worn frame against your side. His breath was slow, steady — but his eyes remained closed, heavy with exhaustion that no sleep could fully erase.

You brushed a gentle hand along his cheek. “Buck, it’s morning.”

He blinked slowly, disoriented, before focusing on you. A ghost of a smile flickered, but it vanished almost immediately. “Feels like I never left the war.”

You kissed his forehead. “You’re home now. And I’m here.”

He squeezed your hand, then reluctantly shifted to sit up. The weight of reality settled back onto his shoulders. “I need to see her. Agent Carter. I have to.”

You nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

The drive from Brooklyn to Peggy’s office was silent, the hum of the engine the only thing filling the space between you. You stole glances at Bucky, sitting rigid and distant beside you, his jaw clenched tight, eyes staring out the window like he was somewhere far away — maybe trapped inside memories that wouldn’t let him go.

When the car stopped, he didn’t speak. Just opened the door and stepped out, the weight of the shield slung awkwardly on his back.

You fell into step beside him as he approached the building, every footstep slow and deliberate.

Peggy was waiting by the door when you arrived. Her smile was warm but guarded, the kind that tried to hide the layers beneath.

“Bucky,” she said softly, stepping forward. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Bucky gave a stiff nod but didn’t smile back. Instead, his eyes darkened, searching hers like he was expecting something—an apology, an explanation, maybe a reason to hate her.

“I heard,” he said quietly, voice rough, “that you’re seeing someone.”

Peggy’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, then she nodded. “It’s been months. I had to move on.”

“Months.” The word hit the air like a slap. Bucky’s voice rose, sharp and bitter. “And here I am, stuck with the ghost of Steve every damn day. You just… moved on? Like it was easy? Like he was nothing but some chapter you closed?”

Peggy took a step closer, voice low but steady. “It’s not easy, Bucky. None of this is. But holding onto pain forever? That doesn’t bring him back.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with anger, pain bleeding through the fury. “I can’t do it, Peggy. I don’t want to live in a world without him. And you… you act like it’s nothing.”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Peggy said quietly. “I’m surviving. And you have to find a way to do that too.”

His hands balled into fists, knuckles white beneath the leather of his gloves. “Maybe I don’t want to survive.”

You stepped forward, placing your hand gently on his arm. “Bucky, please. This isn’t you.”

He jerked away, the distance between you suddenly palpable. His voice broke, raw and heavy with grief. “I’m lost. I’m empty. I’m just the one who came back.”

Peggy looked at you both, the weight of the moment sinking into her eyes. “He needs time.”

You nodded, swallowing the ache in your throat. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Outside the office, the cold air hit your faces. Bucky lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a shield. You didn’t say anything. Sometimes, words weren’t enough.

But you stayed.

And you would keep staying.

— 𖤓 —

The room was quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Bucky sat stiffly in the chair across from the council of SHIELD officials and military brass, the shield resting heavily on the floor beside him.

��Sergeant Barnes,” one of the officials began, voice measured but firm, “With Captain Rogers’ sacrifice, the mantle of Captain America is open. We believe you are the man to carry on his legacy.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. He swallowed hard, shaking his head before the words could even form.

“I can’t,” he said, voice low but steady. “Steve was... Steve. I’m not him. I’m not the man he was.”

“You don’t have to be him,” another officer said carefully. “But you have his courage. His heart. That’s why we’re asking you.”

Bucky looked down at the shield, fingers brushing the familiar curves as if seeking reassurance.

“It’s not about courage,” Bucky whispered. “It’s about what I’ve lost. What I carry. How I failed him.”

You stepped forward, heart pounding but voice clear. “Bucky, listen to me.”

All eyes turned to you.

“You don’t have to be Steve. Nobody expects that. But you have something Steve never had—a second chance to choose who you want to be.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing gently. “I see the man behind the shield. The one who survived hell and still wants to do right. That’s who you are. That’s who you’ve always been.”

He looked up, eyes glimmering with unshed tears and a flicker of hope.

“I’m not asking you to replace Steve. I’m asking you to be you. Bucky Barnes: Captain America.”

Bucky swallowed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. The shield seemed lighter now—not a burden, but a promise. And with you by his side, maybe he could finally start to believe that.

The evening was quiet, the city lights glowing softly outside your apartment window. Bucky sat on the edge of the couch, the shield resting against the wall beside him. You sat close, fingers intertwined, the silence between you full of unspoken pain and hope.

He looked down at the shield, then back at you. “What if I fail? What if I’m not worthy?”

You cupped his face, thumb brushing the scars that mapped his past. “You’re not alone anymore. You have me. And every step you take, I’ll be right there with you.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, a tremor in his hands as he reached out and took the shield.

“This is your fight now,” you said softly. “Not Steve’s. Yours. And he believed you to be worthy. That has to count for something.”

He lifted it, the weight familiar but different — not a burden, but a promise.

“I’ll try,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “For Steve… and for us.”

You smiled through tears, pulling him into a tight embrace. “That’s all I need.”

— 𖤓 —

Months turned into seasons, and seasons into years. The shield, once a symbol of loss and burden, became a beacon of hope—not just for the world, but for Bucky himself.

Each morning began with gruelling training sessions. You watched from the sidelines sometimes, heart swelling and aching as he pushed himself harder, fighting against the ghosts of his past. The serum courses through his veins now, slowing time’s cruel march, halting the wear of years, but it couldn’t erase the memories.

When the missions came, you were there—patching bruises, cleaning wounds, and more importantly, listening. Your apartment became a sanctuary where he could lay down his armour and just be Bucky, the man who loved fiercely and fought for what was right.

One night, after a particularly brutal day, he collapsed into your arms, exhaustion and pain heavy in his body.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, voice raw. “Scared I’ll lose myself in this role. That the war will never leave me.”

You kissed his temple gently. “You won’t lose yourself. You’ll become stronger. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Together, you learned to navigate the balance—between duty and peace, past and future. And slowly, the cracks in his soul began to heal.

Years had softened the sharp edges of pain. The apartment in Brooklyn was filled with laughter, warmth, and the quiet chaos of everyday life — a far cry from the battles and ghosts that once ruled Bucky’s world.

You stood in the kitchen, watching him play with your children in the living room. His laughter was a sound you never thought you’d hear again — pure, unburdened, alive.

He caught your eye and smiled, that old familiar spark lighting up his eyes.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.

You crossed the room and took his hand. “I believed in us. Even when you didn’t.”

He pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You saved me.”

“No,” you whispered, “we saved each other.”

Though the past was never far, it no longer ruled him. The serum had slowed time, but it was your love, your home, your family that healed his heart.

Together, you built a life — one filled with hope, honour, and the quiet strength of two souls who chose each other every day.

March, 2014 ༊*·˚

The city was slick with rain, neon lights flickering off wet pavement. Bucky’s breath came steady, the chill biting through his coat, but his heart was anything but calm. Years had passed since you were gone — since he lost the person who anchored him, who taught him to believe in himself again. But time was a trickster, and now it had thrown him the cruelest of all cards.

Captain Hydra.

The name sent a shiver down his spine.

They didn’t just steal his body — they rewrote his soul.

After his sacrifice in 1944, Steve Rogers was presumed dead. But Hydra found him, broken and near death, entombed in Arctic ice. Where the world would have honoured him, Hydra saw something else: potential. A symbol of hope they could twist into a weapon of fear.

He was defrosted in a sterile underground bunker, strapped to a metal chair under buzzing lights. No familiar faces. No freedom. Only pain.

They tortured him physically at first — electric shocks, isolation, sleep deprivation. But Steve was strong. Too strong. So they shifted tactics.

They went after his mind.

They whispered lies until they sounded like truth. Played him recordings over and over again — false missions, fake betrayals, a rewritten history where Hydra saved the world. Where Bucky died by his hand. Where Peggy betrayed him. Where America never deserved Captain America in the first place.

Then came the chair — crude, cold, invasive. They carved into Steve’s memories, overwriting his morality with obedience. Replacing his ideals with loyalty to Hydra.

By the time they froze him again — their perfect soldier, preserved like a monster in ice — there was no Captain America left.

Only Captain Hydra.

Over the next seventy years, they thawed him out when they needed him. Silent. Deadly. Efficient. A myth of his own. The shield he once carried now bore Hydra’s crest — a mockery of what he once stood for.

Bucky’s hands clenched his shield at his side as he navigated the shadowed alley, the memory of your voice still whispering in his mind. I’m with you. Always.

He had to find Steve. Had to reach him before Hydra’s grip destroyed what was left.

And then, there he was.

Steve stood tall beneath the flickering streetlamp, his new Hydra insignia gleaming coldly on his chestplate. His shield—once a symbol of hope—was now twisted, bearing Hydra’s emblem.

Bucky stepped forward, voice low but urgent. “Steve.”

Steve’s eyes snapped to him, sharp and hostile. “You shouldn’t have come here, Bucky.”

The words stung, but Bucky forced himself to stay steady.

“I came because you’re not who they want you to be.”

Steve’s face twisted in anger. “I’m nothing like you anymore. I’m Hydra’s soldier.”

“No,” Bucky said, taking another step closer, “You’re Steve Rogers. The man who stood for something bigger than himself. You didn’t choose this.”

Steve raised his shield defensively, but Bucky didn’t flinch. Instead, he dropped his own shield to the ground, palms open in a gesture of peace.

“Remember the Brooklyn streets? The dreams we shared? You taught me what it meant to fight with honour—” Bucky’s voice cracked, the weight of decades pressing down. “You were my brother. My best friend. You saved me. And now, I’m here to save you.”

Steve’s eyes flickered—confusion, pain—before they hardened again. “I don’t know you.”

“You do,” Bucky said softly, stepping even closer. “I’m not going to fight you. You’re my friend.”

Steve grimaced before a wicked smile flashed across his lips, and he brought his fist to Bucky, slamming it into his ribs. “You’re my mission.”

“Then finish it,” Bucky gasped. “Because I’m with you... until the end of the line.”

A beat of silence.

Then, like a dam breaking, Steve’s expression shattered. The coldness in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flash of the man Bucky remembered—his Steve.

His guard dropped just slightly, shield lowering.

Bucky reached out, voice gentle but firm, “Come back. Fight with me. Not for Hydra, but for us.”

Steve’s breath caught, the battle inside him raging. Memories surged—your laughter, the nights you stayed up comforting Bucky, the promises made on rain-soaked rooftops.

“Bucky...” Steve whispered, voice thick with emotion, “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You’re the man who never gave up,” Bucky said, gripping Steve’s shoulder. “And I never gave up on you.”

For the first time in decades, Steve let the walls fall.

Bucky held him tight, feeling the tremors of his old friend come back to life. The storm inside Steve began to calm, replaced by the fragile, fierce hope of redemption.

And though you were no longer there, your love had never left — it lived on in Bucky’s strength, in their bond, in the promise to stand together… until the end of the line.

────✪────

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world @positivenergy @cherriesnmango @navs-bhat

[ratherembarrassing]

2025: week 6 and 7

previously, on ratherembarrassing, our heroine was fleeing the mothercountry for the new world...

around the world in thirteen days: so all up, i made my way through every timezone in 13 days. i... don't recommend it, i don't think. it's possible that it was less good because, uh, i didn't sleep for 2 weeks, but who the fuck can say. in any event, onward to the ununited states!

newark!: the calmest airport in the entire country?! the cute little monorail to the train station?!?! the complete lack of signage about the two different train operators and the requirement to get a completely different ticket for each????? i will never fly anywhere else ever again if i can help it.

wet dream tomato: that congestion tax really is working because the streets of midtown were quiet at midday. the vibe was really off until hours before i departed when i saw what looked to be an eight year-old smoking. a shout out to myself for dropping a pin in the three theatres i was seeing shows in on maps and booking a hotel in the middle of the triangle, because that was, actually, sweet as fuck.

theatah!: oh, mary! (lyceum theatre, broadway). as previously said, laughed so hard i nearly peed my pants in a new york theater. as not previously said, i also sucked every bit of myself up and stage door'd in the rain and told betty gilpin, through the power of close proximity, that i love and adore her. go see this.

and then i bought a coat: this truly was an endeavour. the half abandoned basement of a macy's in brooklyn could well have been where i met my end, but i lived to see another h&m and the sweetest sales girl in the world found me the last remaining coat in all of the eastern seaboard. getting this home became a whole thing.

bagel bagel bagel!: so many bagels, the most enchanting of which was one filled with birthday cake flavoured cream cheese from a BTS (the band???) themed bagel store. new york, you are so weird and i love you so much. honestly, because of the weather i was really committed to just not leaving a 4 block radius if i didn't have to (alas, brooklyn) and just wringing the weirdest shit out of those four blocks was incredibly fun. i've been visiting new york for eighteen years and lived there for long enough to pay rent three times, and i've never spent so much time in times square, but i had a fun snowy time.

also, tho: you get mobile signal with data on the subway now?!?!?!?!

theatah!: sunset blvd (st james theatre, broadway). i actually have an entire post in me about this so i'm going to just say that you are free to picture me in the world's largest puffer coat, snoopy style, attempting to melt into the floor as nicole scherzinger said she liked my good luck babe hat as it quietly midnight snowed all around us. byeeeee. (go see this, oh my god go see this!)

theatah!: death becomes her (lunt-fontanne theatre, broadway). i did not know destiny's child's michelle williams was in this until she appeared and i very rudely said out loud, oh my god that's destiny's child's michelle williams. regardless, i was three for three with bangers on this trip. go see this.

go west! life is not peaceful there: absolutely nobody appreciated the moment we were all standing on line for an aggressive pat down by the tsa at jfk when wind beneath my wings started playing over the pa system. i was not amongst my people at all, so i had to leave. on the way, i visited texas for a grand total of 5 minutes. please picture me running off my plane, dashing 3 gates down the terminal, hugging @xactodreams, and running onto the next plane.

a brief interlude: once again they let me drive on the wrong side of the road. they probably shouldn't. why are the traffic lights only on the other side of the intersection. hertz does this thing now where you can just wander around the lot and take whatever car you want, which was more stressful than anticipated.

conclave conclave: this is, actually, the entry for @tgifemslash, my beloved little gay con that you too could attend if you want to do things like, uh, sit in a circle for an hour raving madly about the various wonders of 2024 movie of the year conclave. at this point in our story i had slept very little and was about to commence 3 nights of approximately zero sleep before 4am.

taco taco taco!: i admittedly have historically not been a fan of most mexican food, entirely because it's just not good in australia. in the hands of @wanderson20 mine eyes have been opened to the glory.

traditional shoutouts: clark street diner (my favourite place on earth). the grove (why do i always end up here) (i had to buy a suitcase). erhewon or however the fuck it's spelled (i joined a cult). the nice woman at the qantas desk (thank you for not charing me to check my second suitcase (see grove, the)). panda express (lax's international terminal's only good quality).

oh also: kbox karaoke in a deserted strip mall at 9pm on a sunday in an otherwise entirely empty karaoke place is, actually, it. were there other patrons for a brief window of time, howling on the other side of the wall, or was that the ghosts of patrons never.

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE: swerved 20 minutes out of my way and paid homage at the chappell roan billboard. shout out to the other person there doing the same thing. then i had to go home :(

and then a hero comes along: entire row of seats to myself, love of my life. it's such a rare treat these days to commandeer three tiny, shitty pillows and three gross blankets, strap yourself awkwardly to a bench slightly too short for even your shortass body, and drug yourself into unconsciousness for 11 hours. amen.

and then nothing good ever happened again the end au contraire.

cannibal club!: the yellowjackets is BACK, BABY! the severance/yellowjackets double feature is the only reason to get up in the morning, tbh.

a little brunch: little molli's (abbotsford). the smoked pork neck french dip is to die for, but the blood orange cream soda is to live for.

if anything else happened, i will never remember it, good night.

[herecomesthementalmeltdown]

Biggs Calderhead. Leading tennis hustler, Eastern Seaboard. Once won $12,000 playing with one foot tied to a concrete block. Started tennis at age 3. Plays tennis like Spassky plays chess. Says “A smart tennis player can beat a strong tennis player five games out of seven.” This game shows what he means.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🚨 You Got What You Asked For: A Nation Without Men—Now Bend the Knee 🚨

This Will Probably Get Me Cancelled, But The Truth Must Be Told.

📜 DISCLAIMER: This post is a satirical, dystopian commentary on modern societal trends surrounding gender discourse, national defense, and cultural shifts. It does not advocate or incite violence, discrimination, hatred, or real-world action against any group or individual. It uses exaggeration, parody, and dramatic hypothetical scenarios to provoke thought, challenge narratives, and entertain through absurdity. All characters and nations referenced are used symbolically, not literally.

If you’re reading this in good faith, you already understand that. If you’re not, this content is not for you.

💀 “Where are the men?” she whispered, just before the bayonet kissed her throat.

You wanted an America without "toxic masculinity"? Congratulations. You got exactly what you asked for.

The testosterone has been drained from the nation like a botched lobotomy. The backbone surgically removed and tossed into the compost bin next to plastic straws and testosterone creams. Every masculine impulse—warrior instinct, aggression, territorial defense, honor, pride, domination—castrated under the dull butter knife of “progress.”

The new America is docile. Sensitive. Peaceful. Emotionally aware. Polite. Apologetic. Weak.

And now, the wolves are here.

They didn't send a warning. They didn’t negotiate terms. They didn’t ask for pronouns.

They landed. They marched. And they conquered.

💣 BREAKING NEWS: The United States Has Been Infiltrated and Overrun

Let’s walk through it. Slowly. Clinically. Like a coroner dragging a scalpel across a bloated corpse of a once-great empire.

Day 1: The Pacific Theater China doesn’t even bother with the stealth tactics. They roll tanks straight into the west coast. Portland doesn’t resist. Why would they? Half the male population is on hormonal birth control and the other half is attending a citywide "Men Against Aggression" drumming circle.

By the time local officials file a “nonviolent resistance proposal,” the People’s Liberation Army is already turning L.A. County into a military base. The National Guard is told to “de-escalate” using calming language and consent-focused intervention. They’re promptly slaughtered.

Day 2: The East Coast Burns

Russia—because of course it’s Russia—comes in hard and fast through the Eastern Seaboard. New York tries to host a "Welcome Refugees" block party thinking it's a diplomatic gesture. Turns out it’s the perfect opportunity to round up unarmed citizens in bulk. They even take selfies.

Florida? Forget it. Half the residents were already preparing for an apocalypse. The other half post TikToks begging for help in between pole-dancing reels about how “patriarchy is over, babe.”

Day 3: Midwest Folds

The Heartland held on—briefly. But a few drone strikes and the Chicago Twitter circle collapses into panic. Local men try to protect their families. Unfortunately, their rifles were surrendered during the Great Gun Buyback of 2027. Turns out waving a tofu block at an invading battalion doesn’t do much damage.

Day 4: Mandatory Hijabs Roll Out

This is where it gets cute.

The newly installed military government announces its "Cultural Integration Day." Women across America are mandated to wear hijabs, burqas, or face veils, depending on the governing region. Resistance is not tolerated.

Dozens of TikTok influencers post smiling photos of themselves in freshly assigned hijabs, captioned:

🧕💅 “Yasss! Cultural respect is the new freedom! I slay in this burqa, literally #SlayForTheCaliphate 💅🧕”

Comments are disabled. Likes are...mandatory.

Feminist collectives quickly pivot, announcing the Patriarchal Submission is Liberation movement. Chanting “We Serve to Be Free” and “Death to Individualism,” they offer sugarless dates and filtered water to the occupying soldiers. Several ask to be taken as second or third wives—willingly. After all, they’re finally being “valued,” they say.

🧠 BUT HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? LET’S DO A BREAKDOWN.

Let’s not pretend this was sudden. This was a long con of cultural suicide, camouflaged as progress. This was the rotting of the masculine spine under the guise of enlightenment.

🚫 "Toxic Masculinity" Was Code For:

Men who fight when threatened.

Men who defend borders.

Men who embrace the uncomfortable duty of violence when peace fails.

Men who will kill to protect their land, their people, and their freedom.

But no—society didn’t want warriors. It wanted baristas. It didn’t want protectors. It wanted therapists. It didn’t want guardians. It wanted emotional support units with chiseled jawlines and “safe space” vocabularies.

📉 Masculinity Was Demolished Like a War Crime

Fathers were mocked.

Sons were shamed.

Strength was called violence.

Courage was called privilege.

Discipline was called abuse.

Honesty was called misogyny.

They taught young boys that their instincts were disease. That to be a man was to be a ticking time bomb. That real strength lies in silence, compliance, and gentle hugs. That to be alpha was to be evil.

They turned men into sheep. And now the wolves are here.

📊 THE STATS THEY DIDN’T WANT YOU TO READ:

Let’s dig up the numbers they buried under ideological rubble.

👨‍✈️ Military Readiness in 2030:

70% of male recruits failed physical fitness tests.

52% of the U.S. Navy is now unmanned drone operators with no combat experience.

Mental health screenings disqualified nearly 40% of applicants—depression, anxiety, gender dysphoria.

The average combat duration a U.S. soldier could sustain in a simulated invasion drill? Less than 7 minutes.

👮‍♂️ Law Enforcement Collapse:

Qualified immunity was removed. Officers stopped pursuing suspects to avoid lawsuits.

Police academies added mandatory “De-escalation Circles” and “Bias Microexpression Training”

70% of new recruits were taught to value ��emotional regulation” over “situational control.”

Crime went up. Arrests went down. Eventually, cities just legalized it all to avoid confrontation.

👶 The Decline of Male Role Models:

Fathers in the household: 31% nationwide.

Boys raised by single mothers: 62%.

Suicide rate among boys aged 12–18: up 134% over a decade.

Percentage of boys identifying as “nonbinary” or “gender-fluid” to avoid being labeled ‘toxic’: 26%.

You erased masculinity. And with it, you erased survival instinct.

🧕 THE CELEBRATION: AMERICA'S FIRST “SUBMISSION WEEK”

Let’s fast forward. It’s been three months since the final American general surrendered with a handwritten letter of apology for “past aggressions.”

The new rulers declare the first “National Submission Week.” Flags are lowered. Hijabs are raised.

Women must publicly thank their conquerors. Not with tweets. With obedience. With kneeling. With silence.

Public schools are rebranded as “Education Prisons,” where students recite loyalty oaths and chant:

“Masculinity was a sin. Our submission is salvation.”

Children are taught not to question authority, but to praise it. Daughters are trained in homemaking and Islamic scripture. Sons are taught how to serve, obey, and cry without shame. There are no more sports. No more debate teams. No more critical thinking. Just quiet compliance.

And of course, the influencers are thrilled.

Instagram is ablaze with aesthetically-filtered reels of girls adjusting their veils, writing “I used to think feminism meant power. Now I know submission is peace.” Each video is government-approved, and each like is mandatory.

🔥 SO WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MEN?

Where are they?

Dead. In hiding. In re-education camps. Or worse—still alive, castrated, and serving chai lattes to foreign soldiers in what used to be Starbucks.

The men who could have fought back? They were exiled long ago. Mocked. Labeled incels, bigots, threats. Silenced. Doxxed. Unpersoned. Their warnings were laughed at. Their strength was demonized.

Now, their ghosts linger in every crumbling building, whispering,

“We told you. But you were too busy apologizing to listen.”

🧨 THE FINAL KICK TO THE RIBS: WHY THIS WAS NEVER ABOUT TOXICITY

Let’s get something straight:

The war on masculinity was never about stopping abuse. It was about killing power. It was about emasculating the West so it could be devoured. It was about removing the immune system from the body of a civilization.

You neutered your defenders. You jailed your warriors. You shamed your sons. And you crowned your cowards.

Now you kneel beneath a boot and call it progress.

🎯 THE REALITY CHECK YOU CANNOT UNREAD

This post is not satire. It is prophecy. It is data. It is the trajectory of a nation that chose comfort over courage. That traded power for passivity. That silenced its defenders in the name of decorum.

You were warned. You laughed. And now you bow. Yay.

🚀 REBLOG IF YOU’RE DONE WATCHING CIVILIZATION KILL ITSELF IN A HALTER TOP

🧨 Follow for more digital war crimes of truth 💣 Comment if you still have a spine 🔥 Reblog if you’d rather fight than fold 🧠 Think this is too much? Don’t worry—you’re already conquered.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This post is written for the purpose of artistic expression, cultural commentary, and psychological exploration of social and gender dynamics. It does not condone or encourage violence, harassment, or discrimination of any kind. Any references to power, strength, restraint, or critique are metaphorical, symbolic, and rooted in historical and cultural analysis. This is not a call to action — it’s a cultural mirror. If you feel offended, ask yourself if it’s from actual harm — or from seeing something you hoped no one would say out loud.

✨ TL;DR: If you're mad, it’s probably not because it’s wrong — it’s because you know it’s true.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

Zavesky Observatory — Mafia 2

Located in Hillwood, northeast of Empire Bay. Named after Peter Zavesky (1850—1911), it's home to the largest planetarium dome on the eastern seaboard. The construction took six years, and was funded by Carlo Falcone, who's known as a generous benefactor with a love of astronomy. The facility is used by universities throughout the region for scientific and educational purposes, and includes a picturesque park with a view of the city. There is also an older, abandoned observatory located nearby.

planetarium brochure text:

WELCOME TO EMPIRE BAY'S PLANETARIUM The office of the director of the planetarium operates via the Department of Astrophysics at Morton state university. Our mission is to bring the frontiers of science to the public via exhibitory, books, public programs and more.

LEADING YOU TO THE FRONTIERS OF SPACE We aim to serve as the premier conduit between the frontier of exciting cosmic discovery and your appreciation of the cosmos! Thanks to the generosity of the Falcone Family Trust and Empire Bay National Bank, we are able to provide ground breaking glimpses into the workings of the Universe. From the outer reaches of the Solar system to our exciting "Voyage to the Moon" our exhibits are constantly updated to bring you the latest in scientific research.

FAMILY ALL ACCESS PASS Kids of all ages can join our Junior Space Ranger Program to learn all about new advances in space technology. View a life size replica of a German V2 rocket and real engineers' drawings of proposed spacecraft capable of rocketing a man to Mars! Be the first on your block to own a genuine Empire Bay Planetarium Junior Space Ranger pin! This month meet Clyde Tombaugh, discoverer of the newest planet, Pluto! A competition will be held to suggest an official Planetarium name for the upcoming discovery of "Planet X."

special mention: scary door

[officialleehadan]

Thirty-Nine

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by Hel! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Looping Souls

+++

Thirty-nine loops in, Tiago finally managed to track down the attackers who would hit the tower. A call, arranged three loops ago, made sure another team was on hand to intercept them, and hit the headquarters to find out what they knew.

The nice thing about being in a time loop was that if they failed, Tiago would know for the next loop, and could adjust.

The worst thing about being in a time loop was that none of the people involved would remember any of it for the next one.

At least he was getting faster at getting everyone in place when he needed them to be.

After several conversations with Eyes-High, a powerful and well-connected technopath who specialize in information-gathering, he had more answers than before. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough answers.

So today they were meeting in person, and she was going to try and help him find Conatus.

“You sure you want to do this?” Eyes-High asked warily. She was, for a large number of very reasonable reasons, not thrilled to be reaching out to the notorious villain. Conatus wasn’t known to be unstable or insane, but he also didn’t tent to play with his food. If she, or Tiago, annoyed him, he could and would kill them. “He’s very, very dangerous, and he doesn’t pull his punches.”

“You say that like you have experience,” Tiago noted and caught her coffee cub before she could knock it off the table. Eyes-High twitched at his preemptive movement. She was also unhappy about the time loop business, but she was willing to play her part as best she could to make sure that they all got out of the loop alive. “You know him?”

“We’ve worked together a time or two,” Eyes-High admitted uncomfortably. Not surprising. She was supposed to be on the hero’s side of things.  Working with a known villain was not the best way to stay in the shiny public eye. Not that she bothered with that much anyway. Eyes-High was specifically a support Power by her own insistence, and almost never saw combat. “Last time was when Hurracules called down that cat-five power-amped blizz-hurricane on the eastern seaboard.”

Tiago remembered that. The storm would have wiped out nearly everything it hit. Every Power who wasn’t directly involved in creating it joined up to try and prevent it, or at least save lives as they could. Tiago suspected one of the villains got ahold of Hurracules, who was a high-test weather-control Power, since no one heard of him since that storm. It might even have been Conatus. Maybe Tiago would ask if he met the man.

“That was all-hands-on-deck,” he told Eyes-High, who nodded, visibly relieved that he wasn’t going to make problems for her just because she worked with a villain once in a while during an emergency. “If Horizon didn’t bust you for it, I’m not gonna. You know my history.”

“I do,” she admitted, more knowing than he liked, but she handled information. There was no way she let something that important slip her net. “Anyway, Conatus. He’s easy to work with, but don’t cross him. He’s mostly polite about staying out of people’s heads, but he won’t hesitate if you give him a reason to kill you. He can cause brain hemorrhage as long as he’s close enough to sense you. Don’t ask me how far that is. I don’t know his max range.”

“What’s his known range?”

“I’ve personally seen him tag someone from more than a thousand feet, but I don’t know if that’s his max, or if he needs sightline for it. I wouldn’t count on either, especially if he’s angry.”

Not further than Tiago’s own kill-range, but more than most Powers on the field, and almost impossible to block. It was valuable knowledge. He would have to be very careful not to give Conatus a reason to take him as a threat.

“How do I find him?” Tiago asked, since that was the most important thing. “I don’t have time for a message drop.”

“That’s the problem,” Eyes-High said with a wince. “I don’t know. He’s in the city. I think he lives somewhere downtown, but he knows my mind, and I’m not interested in having my brain crushed like a grape. I stay away from him.”

Right. Well, that was… reasonable but unhelpful. “How likely is he to be able to help me?”

“Very, I’m sorry to say. He’s better than me. Bigger setup. Much richer. More contacts on both sides of the field.”

That might be an option.

“Who does he associate with?” Tiago said, again resentfully grateful for the large part of his forcibly-trained mind that knew how to plan a mission. This was no different than hunting a difficult assassination target, except he wasn’t planning a murder at the end. “Anyone he might take a call from?”

“He might take a call from Aloe. I know they’re friends,” Eyes-High named one of the more powerful healers on the villain side who was, Tiago knew, in the service of the city’s more powerful villain alliance. The healer himself was not aligned with either side, but he was notoriously hard to find, due to his position with the villains. He knew too much about them for them to let him be brought in to testify against them. Not that Tiago thought Aloe would do any such thing. Healers took their business seriously, and if Aloe wanted to turn on his villains, he would have done it already. “But you’ll have to find him to try for it.”

“Every part of this is a mission to find someone who doesn’t want to be found,” Tiago muttered, but he took a hit off his cold coffee, grabbed Eyes-High before she could fall when her chair broke under her unexpectedly, and reached for the nearest tabled. “Right. Let’s see if we can find Aloe in a hurry. I have it on good authority that we all die at three PM.”

+++

Looping Souls: (FULL COLLECTION)

Fifty-Seven (Subscriber Only!)

Fifty-One

Three

Twelve

Thirty 

Thirty-Nine

Fifty-Two

Fifty (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[thehellsitenewsie]

Freighter pilot called for tugboat help before plowing into Baltimore bridge (Reuters)

BALTIMORE, March 27 (Reuters) - The pilot of the cargo freighter that knocked down a highway bridge into Baltimore Harbor had radioed for tugboat help and reported a power loss minutes earlier, federal safety officials said on Wednesday, citing audio from the ship's "black box" data recorder.

The head of the National Transportation Safety Board also said that Francis Scott Key Bridge, a traffic artery over the harbor built in 1976, lacked structural engineering redundancies common to newer spans, making it more vulnerable to a catastrophic collapse.

New insights into the fatal disaster emerged a day after the massive Singapore-flagged container ship Dali sailing out of Baltimore Harbor bound for Sri Lanka reported losing power and the ability to maneuver before plowing into a support pylon of the bridge.

The impact brought most of the bridge tumbling into the mouth of the Patapsco River almost immediately, blocking shipping lanes and forcing the indefinite closure of the Port of Baltimore, one of the busiest on the U.S. Eastern Seaboard.

Divers on Wednesday recovered the remains of two of the six workers missing since the crumbling bridge tossed them into the water, officials said on Wednesday.

Read more

[theburgessobserver]

Burgess Observer(Aka Frosts town newspaper)FINAL ISSUE!

News!

MAIN HEADLINE:

Hathway wins election by a landslide!

Yes,it's true he won the Presidential elections by a landslide because a landslide blocked his opponents road out of his house and caused him to miss most of the last campaigns which were decisive as he had a lead.But without appearing to address several key states he had a decisive defeat and lost by a mere 0,1 percent of voters!Hathway is a relatively unknown candidate and was at a disadvantage to win,then again he was not known for anything bad either….

Pages 1-6

Local News!

GIANT MIRACLE!

Last night somebody(or somebodies)built an intricate 18 foot snowman of Paul Bunyan.As part of the Burgess snowman competition it won first place by a landslide!But no one has come forth as to who have built it,whoever did it must have done quite some work on this Ice giant as it is very detailed and looks life-like and is well…gigantic with the ice being practically melded together as if by magic.Whoever you are we all would like to thank you(and your team)for this not only is it the biggest snowman made in the county,but it also caused a rapid increase in tourist and sight-seekers visiting.

Pages 7-8

Other headlines

Meteor Mystery

Last night Mt.Palomar picked up an asteroid the size of a small town it was heading towards the western seaboard,Scientist reported i could destroy a large part of the western seaboard and while the ICMs were being ready to knock it off course(or destroy it if neccesary)it dispersed under unknown conditions seemingly by itself and NASA is completely puzzled,to add to it somehow it wasn't seen until it was very close to Earth,and it being unknown why it wasnt picked up until then. According to experts its calculated impact point was Arcadia Oaks Ca.

Pages 9-11

Rescue,Repair and Renovate

After years of neglect ,thanks to a public fund and renewed interest the Local Drive-in theater called Forbidden Theater:The Terror from beyond fear!Is reopening,after being built in the late 40s and thriving for a long time till lower attendance due to the opening of the town cinema,it made a comeback thanks to support and new interest for movie nights in the cold night and fresh air and many daters chosing to go there.They always say theres a nice chill there at night…after some unexplained mysterious occurrences in and around town in recent years the sci-fi,mystery,monster movie craze came back with it.

Pages 12-15

Interview with Professor Bomba

He is a scientist and artist from Danbury, Connecticut he has done quite extensive research on forests and has come up through his years of research of a theory of little people living in the forest.

Alleged Dragon sightings in Canada near Kullersen Fissures-Theories and Explantions

The pride of the W.S.P. Fireball XL5 returns to Space City base in South Pacific after interplanetary exploration mission

Genetically engineered tomato with chemically altered ranch salad dressing experiment damadges 6 city blocks!

And more!

Eyes on the sky!

Weather:Fairly frosty with a chance of snow.

Today the Forbinned Theater presents:

-The BLOB

-Forbidened Planet

-Earth vs the flying saucers

-Destination:MOON!

-Mothra vs Goodzilla

Well this is it!

MARCH 27TH!!!ALERT!!!THE GUARDIANS COME TOGETHER TO FIGHT THERE BIGGEST THREAT!!!(MORE DANGEROUS AND POWERFULL THAN PITCH!!!!)

AND THEY WONT BE ALONE!!!!

ON MARCH 27TH!!!

This is the last thing i will publish till the story arc with a prologue on 26th and the story starting on 27th this will be an event you wont want to miss with several ties to the past.(And lets be real he would win any snowman competition by a long-shot!)

It seems as though Jack will be off the naughty list for that.

And I see he likes to watch movies and have some fun while watching them.(And if it werent for him it might not even have been reopened)

Always helping his town directly or indirectly.

Who built the Giant Statue?The same who did the snowflake Formation(Wrong answears only please.)

[rotm-channel]

Burgess Observer Issue 5

News!

MAIN HEADLINE:

Hathway wins election by a landslide!

Yes,it's true he won the Presidential elections by a landslide because a landslide blocked his opponents road out of his house and caused him to miss most of the last campaigns which were decisive as he had a lead.But without appearing to address several key states he had a decisive defeat and lost by a mere 0,1 percent of voters!Hathway is a relatively unknown candidate and was at a disadvantage to win,then again he was not known for anything bad either….

Pages 1-6

Local News!

GIANT MIRACLE!

Last night somebody(or somebodies)built an intricate 18 foot snowman of Paul Bunyan.As part of the Burgess snowman competition it won first place by a landslide!But no one has come forth as to who have built it,whoever did it must have done quite some work on this Ice giant as it is very detailed and looks life-like and is well…gigantic with the ice being practically melded together as if by magic.Whoever you are we all would like to thank you(and your team)for this not only is it the biggest snowman made in the county,but it also caused a rapid increase in tourist and sight-seekers visiting.

Pages 7-8

Other headlines

Meteor Mystery

Last night Mt.Palomar picked up an asteroid the size of a small town it was heading towards the western seaboard,Scientist reported i could destroy a large part of the western seaboard and while the ICMs were being ready to knock it off course(or destroy it if neccesary)it dispersed under unknown conditions seemingly by itself and NASA is completely puzzled,to add to it somehow it wasn't seen until it was very close to Earth,and it being unknown why it wasnt picked up until then. According to experts its calculated impact point was Arcadia Oaks Ca.

Pages 9-11

Rescue,Repair and Renovate

After years of neglect ,thanks to a public fund and renewed interest the Local Drive-in theater called Forbidden Theater:The Terror from beyond fear!Is reopening,after being built in the late 40s and thriving for a long time till lower attendance due to the opening of the town cinema,it made a comeback thanks to support and new interest for movie nights in the cold night and fresh air and many daters chosing to go there.They always say theres a nice chill there at night…after some unexplained mysterious occurrences in and around town in recent years the sci-fi,mystery,monster movie craze came back with it.

Pages 12-15

Interview with Professor Bomba

He is a scientist and artist from Danbury, Connecticut he has done quite extensive research on forests and has come up through his years of research of a theory of little people living in the forest.

Alleged Dragon sightings in Canada near Kullersen Fissures-Theories and Explantions

The pride of the W.S.P. Fireball XL5 returns to Space City base in South Pacific after interplanetary exploration mission

Genetically engineered tomato with chemically altered ranch salad dressing experiment damadges 6 city blocks!

And more!

Eyes on the sky!

Weather:Fairly frosty with a chance of snow.

Today the Forbinned Theater presents:

-The BLOB

-Forbidened Planet

-Earth vs the flying saucers

-Destination:MOON!

-Mothra vs Goodzilla

Well this is it!

MARCH 27TH!!!ALERT!!!THE GUARDIANS COME TOGETHER TO FIGHT THERE BIGGEST THREAT!!!(MORE DANGEROUS AND POWERFULL THAN PITCH!!!!)

AND THEY WONT BE ALONE!!!!

ON MARCH 27TH!!!

This is the last thing i will publish till the story arc with a prologue on 26th and the story starting on 27th this will be an event you wont want to miss with several ties to the past.(And lets be real he would win any snowman competition by a long-shot!)

It seems as though Jack will be off the naughty list for that.

And I see he likes to watch movies and have some fun while watching them.(And if it werent for him it might not even have been reopened)

Always helping his town directly or indirectly.

Who built the Giant Statue?The same who did the snowflake Formation(Wrong answears only please.)

[voidsentprinces]

Advent Children was like peak 00s anime action. Like where else was I going to see two twinks have a motorcycle duel, where one blocks a sword the size the Eastern Seaboard with a gun the size of Rhode Island and then the camera pans around them dramatically?

[writer59january13]

Summer Solstice 2025

Friday, June twentieth at 10:42 Post Meridian

Eastern standard time

will find Earth's North Pole tilted closest toward sun. This demarcates most daylight hours of the year for people living within the northern hemisphere. Just shy of the supposed bewitching hour (more than twelve hours from drafting these lines) nearest star in solar system reaches highest point in the sky.

Hence hasty intent to beat buzzer sound dashing off riding figurative one seahorse open sleigh madly awk cross cyber sea, aye rudder sally forth (slogging thru virtual flotsam and jetsam) with poetic obeisance paid to average size ball of Earth, wind and fire, my out of this world quasi stellar benediction since Earthlings traveled thru space/time continuum circa complimenting

summer solstice at Stonehenge

when the sky is clear, the sun rises

behind the Heel stone, the ancient entrance

to the circle, and rays of sunlight channelled

into the centre of the monument.

Perchance bajillion years ago, when predecessors of present day primates (those foo fighting beastie boys coon sitter terribly less a bomb bin hubble), versus twenty first century Homo sapiens predilection for total mortal kombat graphically spiraling downward zeroing (kamikaze like), loose analogy drawn, videre licet calling to mind witnessing subjective nattering nabob of nativity spinning his/her mathematical roulette wheel of misfortune, albeit analogous to hypotrochoids and epitrochoids geocentric model representing Ptolemaic system, or also representing on a much smaller scale the microscopic subatomic particles, such as electrons, protons, neutrons, quarks, and leptons considered the fundamental building blocks of the universe, according to scientific sources. While scientists continue to explore the nature of these particles, particularly quarks and leptons, there's no indication that they themselves are composed of smaller, discrete particles invisible to the naked eye manifold times smaller than a grain of sand; now what strains incredulity whereby countless grains of sand, roughly (7.5 x 10^21) grains of sand on Earth. This is an estimate based on calculations of the volume of beaches and deserts, and assuming an average grain size.

Such minutiae surprisingly impactful within the realm of present day Homo sapiens, whose lives also linkedin with natural phenomena and affecting multitudinous life forms more than one might be aware geological, meteorological, and radiobiological to name a few terrestrial processes occurring across oblate spheroid, (which could come to a crashing halt predicated on burgeoning human population or apocalypse now considering present day brinksmanship

jeopardizing sustainable planet presuming industrial paradigm prevails, thence man/ woman kind will unwittingly trumpet, and

or sound claxon (ex post facto), while warming temperatures melt glaciers, asper huge popsicles drowning multitudinous habitats courtesy

of violent meteorologic cataclysms, where Noah ark will be big enough to save majority of creatures, and (wherein no art of the deal) savvy enough to wall off sky high tidal Katrina and the waves, then nature will (make a killing) relishing tidying Gaia's condemnation, whereby Atlas shrugged off sized tureen if necessary applying pledged finishing touches repurposing third rock for another species slated to inherit pseudo tabula rasa after Campbells, and broth hers detox polluted primordial soup i.e. once cleansed of poisons, thus...I condense my Green New Deal spiel!

Midwinter night dream filled

with balm of June solstice rays

lackadaisical and carefree months ideal time

to while away pronounced illuminated days

outdoor sports a favorite choice

occupies athletic population,

which venues witness frequent surge

and spill of overtime plays

another popular milieu

favorable climate awakens

constitutes habitués vacationers visit

ashore popular waterways

beachfront shoreline inundated

by mass exodus of sun worshippers

tidal seaboard awash

along every square inch

human species splashes to keep cool

within ocean and bays.

Six months ago bitter cold

and dark snow filled skies

wrought undeserved vengeance

viewed from these eyes

who after each and

every major winter storm

donned proper attire

to stay warm outside

while clearing walkway

with shovel in hand

executed repetitive motion

akin to how boater plies

similar (yet reversed)

bodily swing of arms

now readily prepares for execution

of most difficult seasonal task

requires usage of most complex muscle

the source of poetry witty and wise.

Awake to the solar celestial sea chant

mourning regarding species no longer extant thus upon figurative shoulders of youth

tasked with survival of humanity

a behemoth nearly impossible mission

younger generations unfairly saddled

with obligatory filched grant courtesy when fossil fuels

broadcast onset of four Industrial Revolutions

spewing paradigm videre licet free market capitalist kant now quashing, thrashing, wrestling against rant

long fostering Homo sapiens dominance.

Starry-eyed dark matter

of infinite space

espied by countless eons

since original human race

became cognizant of her/

his terrestrial place

gilding the heavens with strings

of pearly hued lace

closer to earth charting

early skywatchers to notice moon face

held captive via gravitational brace

while zodiac archer aims

cocked bow, where knocked feathers sans arrow complete an awesome

fantastic bullseye ace.

Mother nature’s ornery primates supreme display said massive breastworks broadcast inlay feat of awesome accomplishment

finds yours truly humbled okay

with his feeble limitations

engendering ample rocky tsuris oy vey.

Today June 20th, 2025 after a light rain, the night before, whereby cooler temperatures prevail,

a strand of pearls clung to slender tree limbs

bejeweled woody flora prismatic orbs

tell tale sign recent cloudburst

cleft darkened heavens

rained watery life source liquid

downpour laced branched canopy

awash with molecular droplets

requisite to feed burlesque Vaudeville bluster

exquisite gala performance unrehearsed

unscripted ubiquitous theatrical performance

received limitless encores

toward Gaia screenwriter

whose infinite scope

(wrought upon natural landscape palette)

exceeds the finite abilities

of those bipedal dominatrix

human organisms imbued

whose dilettante debut

(dawned these last seconds

on the clock face of geologic history)

might witness curtain call

on their final act.

[maddymakesgames]

Biggs Calderhead. Leading tennis hustler, Eastern seaboard. Once won $12,000 playing with one foot tied to a concrete block. Started tennis at age three. Plays tennis like Spassky plays chess. Says: “A smart tennis player can beat a strong tennis player five games out of seven.” This game shows what he means.

[heroic-mermaid-witch]

Biggs Calderhead. Leading tennis hustler. Eastern seaboard. Once won $12,000 playing with one foot tied to a concrete block. Started tennis at age three. Plays tennis like Spassky plays chess. Says: “A smart tennis player can beat a strong tennis player five games out of seven.” This game shows what he means.

What?