#georgia innocence project

[mpaizsounds]

The 4% (Podcast)

editing, mixing, mastering < LISTEN HERE >

#the 4% #the four percent #podcast #Kerry Robinson #exoneration #GIP #georgia innocence project #zapier #elle duncan

[midnightfunk]

And if they had been executed Georgia would’ve said, “Whoops!”

#wrongful imprisonment #Georgia #death penalty #innocence project #darrell lee clark #cain joshua storey

[danitaable]

Michael Chapel

It was just a podcast… I began listening for no reason other than I was having a sleepless night and that’s what I do when I can’t sleep. I listen to podcasts.I had liked the delivery style of Sean Kipe’s other two podcast series, so on a sleepless, stormy night in Georgia, I searched his name in Apple Podcasts. His latest series came up. I tuned in with no preconceived notions about the subject…

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#1993 #Danny Porter #Georgia #Gwinnett #in the land of lies #Innocence project #Michael Chapel #Sean kipe #wrongful conviction

[vague-humanoid]

A Georgia sheriff's deputy shot and killed a Black man who spent more than 16 years in prison on a wrongful conviction, according to a report Tuesday.

The Camden County deputy stopped Leonard Allen Cure as he drove Monday on Interstate 95 near the Georgia-Florida state line. Though he got out of his vehicle and cooperated at first, investigators said he became violent after he was told he was being arrested, reported WSB-TV.

“I can only imagine what it’s like to know your son is innocent and watch him be sentenced to life in prison, to be exonerated and ... then be told that once he’s been freed, he’s been shot dead,” said Seth Miller, executive director of the Innocence Project of Florida.

@chrisdornerfanclub

Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis signed a claims bill in June granting Cure $817,000 in compensation for his conviction and imprisonment, along with educational benefits, and he received those funds in August.

#they never let you go

[tyrantisterror]

My Personal History with My Good Friend, Satan

My first encounter with The Devil - that I can remember, at least - came when I was about three or so. My mom liked to borrow VHS tapes from libraries to show me and my siblings a lot, and one of the libraries she used was the one at our church. It was a small and obviously very religion-centric collection, but it left a notable mark on me - like, that's where I saw this weird, kinda shitty cartoon version of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe which might be responsible for irreconcilably fucking up my taste in women? I just have this distinct memory of watching the scene where Edmund is tempted by the White Witch and thinking, "Yeah, he's making the right call." If anything I was frustrated that he hesitated - three year old me was already simping for this woman. Just imagine a child channeling Ernie Hudson in Ghostbusters and growling, "When a terrifying and beautiful woman offers you candy and a private sleigh ride, you say YES!" and that's basically me as a kid.

Where was I? Right, Satan. So, the other video from that library I remember was this cartoon retelling of Bible stories, and really I just remember the Adam and Eve part. The temptation scene had this huge, super gnarly-looking demonic red snake in it, and he was so cool and badass and I was already predisposed to like snakes anyway, so of course he was my instant favorite. But, like almost all media featuring reptiles that captured my little child heart, he turned out to be the bad guy - literally The Devil, in this case - and was punished at the end of the story. And that pissed me off.

Sometime shortly thereafter - or at least that's how I remember it, this was over thirty years ago so things might be smushed closer together than they really were by the fog of ages - some of the kids in my preschool chastised me for liking snakes. "Don't you know the devil is a snake? Snakes are evil!" I remembered the movie, and it made me angry.

Because snakes aren't evil, and as a kid I knew that because my parents taught me it. Snakes were just animals, they don't know right from wrong, and to call them evil it to judge them for what they are, not what they do. That experience taught me a very important lesson: The Devil is a tool to make people hate the innocent. And as I'd later learn, snakes were far from the only innocents people would vilify because of a demonic association.

The second time I met the devil came a few years later, when I was six or seven or so. My Grampa and Grams liked to take us up North to Mackinac City and the Upper Peninsula each summer, and I have a lot of fond memories of those trips, but there was one in particular that's relevant to this discussion. We saw a sign for a "laser light show" in the shopping district, and I got to stay up late to see it with my family. The show in question was basically a cartoon projected into the night sky adapting the song The Devil Went Down to Georgia. It was super primitive and hokey and cornball and terrible and I loved every second of it. I was enchanted, absolutely delighted with the spectacle and the silly song where the devil was less a force of evil and more a comically bumbling inept supervillain - one of my favorite archetypes, even back then. So that's the second lesson about the devil I learned: The Devil can be fun sometimes.

Now, Godzilla, one of the few reptile characters I encountered as a kid who didn't end up a villain (at least not in the first movie of his I saw, Godzilla vs. Megalon), had already set me on the path to loving monsters of all stripes and, by extension, horror fiction in general, so as I grew up I had many more encounters with the devil. But while I warmed up quickly to most monster archetypes, like vampires, zombies, werewolves, etc., I always felt dismissive of demons. It kind of coincided with me becoming disillusioned with Christianity as a whole, in fact. A story about fighting evil, Christian-style demons is ultimately an allegory for fighting evil as defined by Christianity, and Christianity's definition of what evil is, well, sucks. It's bad! They got some things right, but some things horribly wrong. The devil is the tool Christianity uses to make you hate the innocent, and I struggled to enjoy a lot of demon stories because of that. Still do with some, in fact.

There were exceptions, of course - I loved The Evil Dead series as soon as I saw it at too-early-of-an-age, but then, the demons in it aren't super Christian. They aren't repelled by holy water or crucifixes or prayer, and in fact God and Jesus barely get mentioned in the series and never come up as a potential solution. They're kind of secular as demons go, and maybe that made them easier to stomach. But overall, demons ranked pretty low in the hierarchy of monsters to me - they were too tainted by the religion that spawned them for me to enjoy.

Until college, anyway. I quietly renounced my faith during my Freshmen year, and then, as if seeking one last chance at redemption in my eyes, the devil came to me again the following year. That's when I had a class on Medieval literature, and was exposed to far older devil stories than I had ever seen before. And Medieval devils kick ass. They have so much more personality and variety than I had come to expect, and some are downright affable, even sympathetic to a degree. It was one of many moments in college when I realized there was much more to a topic I'd previously written off as boring and trite.

This is when I read Dante's The Divine Comedy and Milton's Paradise Lost and Marlowe's Faust and Ben Johnson's The Devil Is An Ass. It's when I read early Gothic Horror novels like Matthew Gregory Lewis's The Monk, and dived into The Twilight Zone, which has more than a few episodes that are updates of medieval-style devil folktales in a more modern (i.e. 1960's) setting. And so many of these works presented the Devil not as a stand-in for everything Christianity hates, but as a person - a deeply flawed person, yes, but a person with actual wants and feelings and thoughts of his own, a person who was interesting and compelling - and sometimes funny, and sometimes charming, and sometimes really sad. There was, dare I say... sympathy for the devil growing in my heart.

In the last year of my undergraduate studies, I attended my college's yearly Medieval Studies Congress, where people from all over the world came to Kalamazoo just to share their research papers on medieval history and literature. One girl's thesis paper was on the subject of "rueful devils," i.e. depictions of demons in literature where they wanted to repent their sins and redeem themselves, which uniformly ended with the devils' hopes being dashed as they could not fully repent. This idea... possessed me. The idea that the devil could repent, or at least try to - that there could be hope even in the most debauched sinner. It was such a good narrative trope in my eyes - why did it die out centuries ago?

Well, because the church didn't like it, you see. If the devil can repent - if the Absolute King of Evil can choose to become a good person - then he's not very useful as a tool to make people hate the innocent anymore. The devil MUST be "pure evil" to work as intended. A rueful devil, a repentant devil, a devil that can be redeemed, forces us to be more forgiving and kind. It forces us to be better. It prevents us from hating people because an old book says so. And some people just couldn't have that, and so the trope died.

...

After I got my bachelor's degree, I entered the job market and, after applying to fifty different places or so, was finally hired as a high school english teacher about two weeks before the school year started. Said school year was the worst year of my life. Like, I've had extreme self loathing issues and suicidal ideation since, like, sixth grade, but holy shit it was NEVER as bad as it was in that nine month stretch between 2012 and 2013. There was this bridge I had to cross on the way to work each morning, and about two months in the job was so stressful that part of my morning routine was thinking, "You know, if I just swerve to the right, this can all be over and I'll never have to worry again." About halfway in I began drastically losing weight despite not changing my diet or getting more exercise and it was so traumatic that to this day whenever my weight starts to drop my initial reaction is dread rather than excitement. I impulse bought the first two Kung-Fu Panda movies and, after watching each for the first time and crying hideously, proceeded to watch them on repeat for an entire weekend while sobbing myself hoarse for reasons I couldn't comprehend at the time.

I was in Hell. And the devil met me there.

I started writing a story during that year. I didn't get very far, just a couple chapters, but it was one of the few things that gave me a sense of accomplishment. Despite all the stress and sadness and misery, I made something. It was a story about demons, and Hell, and trying to make your life better even when the world around you seems deadset on making you suffer as much as possible.

When my bosses called me into their office at the end of that year and told me that I had to quit my job so the assistant principal could take my teaching position and survive the downsizing they'd get next year, and that if I didn't quit they'd give me the lowest teacher evaluation they could and make it supremely difficult for me to get hired elsewhere... I was relieved. I'd been let out of Hell. After a handful of months left to finish out the year, I was free.

And then I went home, with nothing. No job, no desire to pursue the career for which I'd spent five years and an ungodly amount of money getting a degree to pursue, no nest egg, nothing. Nothing except a few chapters of a book.

The years that followed were hard. I did a lot of temp work, it took me a very long time to find something that worked for me. I may have left the worst year of my life, but there was still a lot of misery waiting for me. And through it all, I felt the need to accomplish... something, ANYTHING. I had to make something to prove I had a reason to exist, even if it was something that only had value to me.

With three years of work, those chapters became my first novel, No Sympathies: A Tale of Those Who Trespass Against Us. It was about the devil, and Hell, and finding salvation even when things seem inescapably bleak. It was my first novel, and now, eight years later, it's the first of five.

The devil saved my life. He saw me at my lowest, lifted me up, whispered, "It'll be ok. You have to keep going. I'll be with you, but you have to keep going," and goddammit, he kept me from swerving right.

That's when I learned the greatest truth about the devil, at least to me. The devil is a tool to make people hate the innocent, yes, this is true, but because of that, the devil can be a savior for the broken, the beaten, and the damned. You can feel like you're worthless, wretched, and doomed. But if the devil can rise from Hell, if the devil can choose to change, if people are willing to pray for the one sinner who needs it most - then there's hope for you too, isn't there?

Demons are creatures of rebellion - against God, against nature, against the powers that be, against doom and damnation itself. They were made to be a tool to hurt the innocent, but that's not what they have to be. Devils can lift us up, because no matter how far you fall, no one can say whether it's the end for you except you.

...I would like to point out that I am being figurative here. The devil does not literally exist, at least not in my view of things. He's a fictional character, nothing more. But he's a prolific fictional character, and how we portray him can say so much about us. And, to me, he is a dear friend, despite being imaginary, because the devil was there for me when I was low, and it was on his wings that I rose from doom.

...again, figuratively, not literally.

[icarusxxrising]

Important, PLEASE Read and Share.

TW // Violence and Police Brutality.

Protesters in Atlanta Georgia are being threatened on bogus charges by the state.

For the past 2+ years, protesters in Atlanta Georgia have been protesting and camping out in the Weelaunee Forest, Atlanta's largest remaining green space. With so little of these vast spaces left, and more being taken, it is so important to save what we can.

The Atlanta Police Foundation chose the Weelaunee Forest to establish a massive training complex which would include fake city like buildings for Police training, which is why the project has been dubbed "Cop City". This training facility would no doubt be used to increase the militarization of the Police, and add to the harassment and brutalization both black communities and protesters face when trying to live and exercise their rights.

The facility would be built adjacent to a majority Black, working class community that was not only promised the forest for trails and park space, but would surely be subject to even more policing instead of a Third Space* they can use as a community.

The facility would desecrate 87 acres of land, spanning over 381 acres, and costing around $90 million dollars that could have gone back into community projects and care instead of further the subjugation of the working class.

Police have been extremely violent towards the dubbed "Forest Defenders", raiding the forest multiple times to shoot pepper balls at nonviolent protesters and also destroying shelters, water/food storage, and even purposely destroy Jewish religious sites, including a Sukkah that was built for Sukkot and was destroyed by police in a raid 2 months after, along with a large Menorah which "disappeared". The forest camps has become an important religious site for Jewish people in and around Atlanta, as more than 60+ Jewish People have traveled to the forest for Shabbat, with hundreds more joining the live stream for Shabbat.

The forest is not just important for nearby Black and Jewish communities, the Defenders adding shelters, cafeterias, and even a small stage venue in the forest in an effort to Squat the forest has provided local homeless communities with a warm place to eat and shelter. The forest has transformed into a safe space for the community as Defenders educate each other and the Atlanta communities on first aid, cultural differences, leftism and anarchism in practice, and more.

Following violent interactions with Police, protesters have responded by burning down construction equipment (with no construction workers nearby), and throwing rocks at Cops who attempted to get close to harass the protesters. When it comes to the safety of our planet and communities, property is replaceable.

However, a life is not. On January 18th, 2023, a nonbinary anarchist eco activist, who was knowledgeable as a street medic and worked tirelessly as a forest defender, was shot and killed by Georgia State Troopers during another raid on the forest. Their name was Manuel “Tortuguita” Terán.

Police claimed Tortuguita shot first and injured a trooper, which the media picked up and began to circulate. However, multiple autopsies have confirmed not only did Tortuguita have no gunpowder residue on their hands, but Tortuguita was shot while on their knees, hands in the hair, surrendering to Police. Autopsies also concluded Tortuguita was hit with at least 57 gunshot wounds across their entire body, showing Tortuguita was executed by a police fire squad.

Police body camera footage also showed a Cop admitting that the Troopers had "fucked up their own guy", which authorities of course dismissed and refuse to participate in proving their innocence that they're so sure of.

In response to this, protesters took to the streets and burned a cop car, leading to police arresting 40+ activists. Police also arrested, threatened, and intimidated anyone who was peacefully discussing and sharing information about Tortuguita's murder on the streets of Atlanta, attempting to silence anyone who was even peacefully raising awareness.

Atlanta Police also conducted a random raid of a legally operating Bail Fund based in Atlanta, The Atlanta Solidarity Funds. The raid came as the Atlanta Solidarity Funds was legally raising money and awareness to help with Bail and Legal Defense, as protesters who were arrested peacefully were being charged with Domestic Terrorism, and now RICO/Racketeering charges. The Atlanta Police claim that the Bail Fund was laundering money, but other Bail Funds are calling this out as an obvious act of intimidation since absolutely no stories or proof has been released in conjuction with these financial charges.

There's a lot more, this has been going on for years, but one thing is certain. If we do not stop this here, they will tear the forests in your cities down and continue to militarize the police, furthering the oppression of the working class and continuing to make Black and marginalized communities lives hell.

Please read up on what has been happening in Atlanta because there's way more than the bits I talked about here. The Forest Defenders have been through so fucking much, and they still have a lengthy battle. But you cannot kill an idea. You can follow the Atlanta Solidarity Fund and the Forest Defenders on Social Media to keep up with them.

PLEASE boycott when possible, or be extremely vocal, towards the companies backing cop city. PLEASE tell them they have Blood on their hands.

Please continue to raise awareness, and follow Cop City closely. Please Read and Share.

#stop cop city #cop city #defend the forests #defend atl #defend the atlanta forest #defend Weelaunee #fuck cops #police brutality #acab #1312 #blm #blacklivesmatter #black lives matter #anarchy #anarchism #leftism #leftist #save our planet #eco #save the earth #antifascism #antifascist #anticapitalist #anticapitalism

[slxsherwriter]

The Spirit of Lending a Hand

Fandom: 2001 Maniacs

Pairings: Potential Buckman x Reader

Word Count: 4,073

Warnings: Cannibalistic spirits, death, witchcraft, talks of necromancy, honestly this whole movie and its contents probably count as a warning

Author's Note: Here I am, once again writing Buckman. My brain works in mysterious ways, even to me. This sort of took a life of its own. As always, not beta read and unedited. Information also taken from the comics.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta & @tinalbion

The semi-annual trip to Pleasant Valley had been delayed this time around due to unforeseen and unwelcomed circumstances that were beyond your control. Namely, a set of hunters that had been on your tail for the better part of four months. They had been smart, annoyingly persistent, and meticulous in their planning. Far more trouble than you had met in recent years.

Once you had felt confident that you had shaken their incessant pestering and attempts on your life, you gathered all the necessary supplies and headed out to the small, off the beaten path, ghost town. Well, cemetery, but it had the feeling of a ghost town. The energy there was indescribable. Then again, after such a tragedy, it didn't come as a surprise. The spirits likely lingered there, something you understood even if others didn't.

You had first come across the resting site of the small town in your travels for your doctorate, focusing on the fall out of a war on small towns in the south from an economic, social, and overall day to day living standpoint. It was hard when records of those that had been destroyed as a byproduct and casualty of war were wiped from the map. Before heading back, you decided to take the summer and explore some more rural areas of South Carolina and Georgia. Besides, there were plenty of supplies for your other studies to be found in that took time, too.

The tug in your gut had you making that left hand turn for the first time. The graveyard was large. A place full of sorrow, of mourning, of anger. But so were most places like this when lives were irrevocably changed. Which, really, was a civilized way to say slaughtered. From your understanding after reading the gravestones and doing some digging, that was what had occurred in Pleasant Valley. A massacre of innocent lives. It was a frequent happening when it came to times of war but made it no less tragic or horrific.

After that first visit, there was something that kept pulling you back time and time again. Before you realized it, you had routinely visited the place twice yearly for years. It was a place to calm your mind and gather yourself. Feel recharged but also perform those darker rituals that required a draining amount of energy. There was enough in the place that you could draw from it and get done what was needed. The occasional necromancy and such. Not things that you dabbled in too often but when it was needed, and unfortunately, there was a time and place for it, then being in a place like Pleasant Valley helped.

This year, it felt entirely different. More energy, more lively. Typically, you came during summer and winter, but because your winter trip had been delayed, you were entering the area during mid-spring. Lively. That was an odd way to frame it, and your brain stuck on it when the normal left was marked with a giant detour sign. You stopped the car and stared at it for several long moments. The lettering had been poorly done with the e of detour backward. Enough to make you laugh, but at the same time, there was a nagging concern. Had someone desecrated the resting place of these poor souls?

It was a smart idea to see what you were walking into before you did. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Parking the car on the shoulder, you settled back into the driver seat, closed your eyes, muttering the words of the spell, and concentrating hard. Astral projection was always one of those spells that you could never quite get the hang of, but this was worth the attempt.

It had to be repeated twice before you felt the telltale heaviness and then lightness of your limbs. Traveling slowly down the dirt road, hands in your pockets, you still took time to appreciate the beauty of the natural surroundings. Right as you were about to cross under the arch that marked the threshold, you were thrown back into your body. Gasping and coughing, it took a moment for your spirit to settle back in and breathing to come normally. Well, that was new. Something was happening. Something not of the natural world. With your intrigued spiked, the tires nearly peeled on the gravel as you turned the car down the road towards the familiar spot.

Instead of a graveyard, you were met with a quiet, quaint looking town. Something akin to what one would see in the south during the eighteen hundreds. You should know well enough. As you got closer and closer, there was a buzz in the air that felt electric. The anger that hung around Pleasant Valley was present, but this was far different. If an energy could feel hungry, that was what you would have described it as. There was a gathering of people ahead, surrounding two cars. The cheering and hollering were evident from a ways back. Your skin pricked, and your hair stood on end. And in that moment, you understood perfectly.

It was dangerous. So very dangerous for any living being to be here right now. These weren't people. They were vengeful spirits. How had you not made the connection before now? Was it because there wasn't enough energy when you normally stopped by.

“More guests!” The patch was recognizable. After so many trips to the site, you knew that it could only be George Buckman. Whether you made it out of this or not was up to how it was played. And that required a private conversation with the man that seemed to be pulling all the strings. Offering help seemed like your best chance. Should you feel bad about offering the lives of those who had unwittingly found their way here? The answer was yes. But would you? No, not likely. Who was dimwitted enough to follow a sign like that in today's day and age? Besides, fresh sacrificed blood was a hard commodity to come by unless you got your hands dirty yourself and even then, it could be iffy.

It took a little bit, and there were a few odd looks, as if people were trying to place exactly who you were to them. The familiarity of a place you had never been washed over you. It wasn't entirely true. You had never been to Pleasant Valley when it had existed with living people, homes, businesses, and the little quirks that came with such things. But you had been here before, had communed with the land and in ways with the spirits. In a way, they did know you, and you knew them.

Southern hospitality dictated a certain set of manners in return. That much you knew. Your history degree wasn't entirely useless after all. The sirs and ma'ams worked their way in, albeit a little unnaturally and awkward at times. Offers to help with whatever it is they were doing were made. They were declined each and every time but the offer was there.

There were other ways to be useful, though. Hex bags and a corresponding hex could provide easier targets for the souls stuck on this Earth. The problem was making them quick enough and properly placing them. You might be able to get one or two together and tucked hidden away, but would it be enough?

Before much thought could be put in, or you could gain a private audience with Mayor Buckman, someone else decided to grab your attention. Quite literally. The large hand clapped down on your shoulder, a firm touch that spoke a fraction of the strength it held.

“I think you and me need to have a chat, miss.” It felt like there was little room for argument. Nodding your consent, though it was hardly needed, the large man beside you was a presence that you would lose a physical fight against. And a fight would not help with your plans here. It was best to go along quietly and see what it was that he wanted to discuss. No one else was being pulled off on their own, at least not yet and no in a manner like this. Hopefully, you weren't marching towards your death.

The town was mostly out of sight by the time that the little walk had come to an end. You were finally able to turn and look at the man. Taller, broad shoulders. But an air about him. Another magic user. In some form or another.

“You're the one that comes around here.” It wasn't a question, a simple statement and acknowledgment that maybe some did know who you were. “Practices your witchcraft.”

“That is me.”

“You're late this year.” It shouldn't have been surprising, and yet, you were standing there, entirely caught off guard to the fact that the man knew your schedule had been entirely thrown off.

“I had a little problem to take care of,” you paused. “Well, not so little. Took me a good four months to handle. But, occasionally, things like that come up, someone tries to take my life, and it's a vicious circle for a short while.” An amused twitch of his lips was the response. You took that as a good sign for what was to come. It was all a matter of still carefully navigating the landscape.

“Yet, you are still here.”

“Well, did you think I was going to miss my routine just because I had two men trying to kill me?” At that, you ended up receiving a smile, which was counted as a victory.

“Why do you come back?” Now, that was something that you had asked yourself quite a bit over the last few years and never came up with a solid answer. Perhaps ones that sounded pleasing to the ear but never one that was genuine. Why not be honest with the spirits? More than you had been with yourself, at least. A small shrug came before the words started to flow.

“Because it always felt right.” A simple answer. “There was always something pulling me here, demanding attention and a commune. There was never really a solid explanation for it. I just knew the first time I passed something demanded, I show up, and that demand never ceased. The energy always felt right.”

“So perhaps you are the one.” The tilt of your head came unbidden, something that you couldn't help at the words grabbed your curiosity. Never one for chosen prophecies or the like, it was still something that was worth the intrigue. There didn't seem to be much more information forthcoming. “You do understand what is going to happen here?”

“I would be foolish to miss it in the air. Vengeful spirits create a certain…energy in the air. Intent shapes it and leaves lingering traces.” He nodded.

“Yet, you remain.”

“Admittedly, at first, I was worried someone had desecrated the graveyard. And when I felt something blocking me, I had to investigate. You all did catch me a little off guard with the whole, ya know, appearance thing going on.” He chuckled and nodded.

“I do suppose that would cause a bit of a shock upon arrival.” He nodded to himself and motioned for you to follow after him. This time, he wasn't leading you but rather trusting that you would be walking alongside him. Far more peaceful that way. There seemed to be people milling about, watching, but not really participating in anything now that there wasn't anyone to pay attention to them. You supposed you could understand such a thing. If you were stuck in a purgatory pattern like this, there wouldn't be much drive to do anything either.

“Didn't go getting lost now, did ya?” The mayor greeted with a wide smile, eye flickering back and forth between you and your companion, whose name that you never got.

“Think you and Granny Boone need to have a sit down with this one, sir.” There was an odd emphasis on some of the words, but whatever he had been trying to convey was apparently done successful as Buckman paused long enough to process the information.

“Really, now? Ain't that the darndest thing. We were just going to have a little chat, so why don't you just come along then?” This would be the make or break moment that had been looming since your arrival a few hours ago. Once again, you could only consent.

“Of course.” With Buckman taking over, you were led towards the small church in town, after it had been demanded that your former companion let Granny know that she was expected to attend the meeting.

During the short walk, you exchanged names properly, and there was an ease about it that could be appreciated. Rare was it that you got along well and right off the bat with others, a byproduct of the life that you led. A sense of calm that came from him, even though there was still that hint of rage simmering beneath the surface. As much as it would make others uncomfortable, you found a calming effect to it in the familiarity.

The church was void of everyone and everything, and while it wasn't exactly your favorite place to be but it wasn't the worst.

“Must be a reason he is thinking so highly of you, darling. You gonna explain or keep me in suspense?”

“Wouldn't it be easier to wait for the others?” Waiting meant that you wouldn't have to repeat yourself multiple times. It was far more preferable than spitting out the same explanation over and over and over. There was a moment of indecision, the choice flipping around before a sigh was given as an answer. He didn't have to wait long. The older woman who had been running the quote hotel of the town came in, eyeing you suspiciously. The response? A broad smile as you remained seated, allowing the two to gather around you.

“All right, Missy. Best start explaining what's going on.” Granny Boone was no nonsense. You liked her.

“Well, I've been coming to Pleasant Valley for years now, twice a year specifically. This is the first time that I've met any of the residents, though.” There was a tension that briefly filled the room, enough to give you pause and wonder if you had said the wrong thing before it broke and a sense of excitement took its place.

“Knew I recognized something about ya!” Buckman was practically joyous, while Boone remained a little more reserved but was all smiles like he was. “Looks like this year's festival is about to get a whole lot more interesting, ain't it?” Boone quickly batted at his knee.

“You haven't even asked yet. Don't get ahead of yourself.” The interaction was enough to make you smile.

“I'd be happy to help in any way that I can. Eye for an eye aren't just some fanciful words. I can spot others' work when I see it.”

“Ain't you a smart one.” You shrugged. “Well, we got our answer. We got our guests. All we need now is to get ready for the barbecue.” If you thought he was excited before, it was nothing compared to now. The man was all but vibrating with energy in his spot.

“I just have a quick question. And you may or may not be able to answer it for me. I've been coming here for years but this is the first time we have met, face to face, so to speak. Why now? Why not then?” There had been plenty of opportunities, but nothing had ever happened. The two looked at one another.

“Well, it's not always easy to appear as it is at other times. The more Yanks, the more it's worth the effort.” Interesting. Something caught, but the idea refused to fully form right yet. Stuffing that thought away for later, you nodded.

“Makes sense. Wasted time and energy if the reward isn't big enough.”

“Besides, you bring something with ya that just livens us all up a bit. Especially since you drop by at quieter times.” That idea drug forward a little further. Again, thought would be dedicated later in a quiet moment where you could concentrate on the feeling and what the idea was supposed to shape up to be.

“I suppose I should say I'm flattered.” The small laugh that accompanied the words had the other two smiling wider. It was a relaxed but giddy and anticipatory atmosphere. One that you found yourself sinking further and further into as the seconds ticked by. A place to stay. To be safe. The whispers tickled your consciousness. “Just direct me as to where I'm needed and what is expected of me. I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty if that's required.” Not to find joy in it. Maybe they did to some degree, but this was about avenging the egregious act that they had suffered. After suffering so long in a made purgatory, things started to twist a little bit, though.

“No use in sitting here like bumps on a log. We got work to do.” Buckman clapped and jumped to his feet. “Think I'm gonna keep you with me, pretty thing. Wanna see just whatcha can do.”

Boone went back to continue prepping whatever it was that she was in the middle of, something with the ladies that had arrived from your understanding. With her gone, it was just you and Buckman.

The seemingly jovial man was observing you still, though he was on his feet and motioning for you to follow.

“Ya know, ya been coming here so often, for so long, sort of makes ya an honorary resident of our little town.”

“Sort of feels like that.” There wasn't any use in lying or trying to deny that feeling. Being honest with the man had been your decision from the smart, so why stop with something as silly as telling him that there was something that made you feel so connected to this place. “Moved around a bunch as a kid. Never really had a set place, and that's sort of been the theme in my adult life, too. Moving minimizes the risk of being caught by those who would prefer to see me dead. Always liked it when we stayed in the south, though. Felt most at home. That subtle heat in the spring and fall. Different pace to life in the smaller towns. An abundance of ingredients for spells and such. Better energy, too. Something far more deeply rooted. Unless I visited places like Salem or Plymouth. Sometimes, there was less acceptance of the….well, lifestyle for lack of a better term but always made due.”

“That happen often? Someone chasing after ya like that?”

“Often enough. It's what delayed my appearance here this year. Though, I guess that it worked out in everyone's benefit in the end. Except for theirs….”

“Hm, then ya really won't have a problem helping us take care of these Yanks.”

“I've brought people back from the dead for less than honorable purposes. Yeah, I really don't mind helping you kill someone. Or in this case, someones given the turnout you have here.” The laugh that came from Buckman couldn't have been classified as anything but ecstatic and excited. A sound that others would likely think bordered on the sound of insane. For you, though? There wasn't a way to stop the grin that it brought. “My hands haven't been clean in many, many years. What's adding a little more?” And your view on the world and the people in it may have been twisted and just a little skewed, but it came with the territory.

“Just gonna have to gather up the town to make sure no accidents happen then. Let them know you are here helping.” He raised a hand to rub his chin, thoughts clearly going a mile a minute. Not that he could be blamed. You knew that while you were there to help and would, your presence ilkley threw a monkey wrench into whatever plans that they had.

While Buckman might have been accepting, it didn't mean that the rest of the town would be right away either. So a meeting would have been smart. You would have hated to cause a problem for one of the spirits because you had reason to defend yourself. They couldn't be hurt in the traditional sense and had probably gotten quite comfortable in their relative safety from physical harm. But, you weren't their usual prey, and while you didn't want to focus on it, having various methods of protection were floating through the back of your mind. Hopefully, there wasn't a need for it.

******************

It was a sight to behold, how quickly the spirits were able to create chaos, one that was under a tight control and allowed them such freedom to do as they pleased. Impressive, really. So much so that you were feeling immensely grateful that you weren't on the receiving end. No one was spared, and no corners were cut. The brutality of it wasn’t so uncommon to you that it gave a weak stomach, but on the same hand, it did press some sort of line. As complicit as you were, you kept your mouth shut. Besides, was there really room for you to talk? It was a reminder to yourself given all that you had done in your life.

There was such a captivating sort of aura around the entire thing, the passion and need that came from those around you enough to make you want to drop to your needs. All driven forward from desperation. If you helped them, how long would it take for them to finally know rest?

“He's getting away!” There was one that had just escaped the flaying knife of the cook, apparently not all the way dead. The urgent tone cried out loudly and caught your attention. The man was moving far faster than he should have been able to, adrenaline, and the critical need to stay alive kept him moving. And he had a heavy head start on just about everyone. So far, the spirits had appeared to move like normal humans. The first natural, gut reaction that you had was to lash out, the ground immediately rising into a wall in front of him. Head first he ran into it, with no time to hit the brakes and bring himself to a stop. How he wasn't knocked out cold was beyond you, but it was enough for others to catch up to him.

“Well, buttermilk pancakes, look at that.” Buckman was by your side seemingly out of nowhere, letting out a low whistle. It had been a long time since you had heard anyone even slightly impressed with your abilities. A twinge of pride swelled in your chest. “That's a mighty fine trick ya got there.”

“Ain't the only trick up my sleeve.” The comment slipped a little more flirty than intended. The chuckle that came from the man was well worth any embarrassment.

“I think you are going to do just fine here, sweetheart.” That old southern twang that came through was pleasant to listen to, an emotion that came unbidden and unexpected. Trouble. The thought meant big damn trouble. You were too far into things now, though, to give up. Giving in was the only option. What was the use of living a long life if a little fun couldn't be had every once in a while? It wasn't like he was going to be around forever after all. Once they were able to fulfill the force keeping them here on this Earth, they would finally be allowed to rest.

“Planning on keeping me, sir?” A proper southern gentleman, even if he was a vengeful, cannibalistic spirit, instead of offering back anything vulgar or too untowards, he simply grinned and rested a hand against your lower back.

“Oh, ya ain't ever getting free, sweetheart.” The possessive note sent a shiver down your spine. Not in a bad way. It had been many years since you had ever felt a flick of danger mixed with desire like he was able to ignite. He would be gone eventually, but until then? There was nothing saying that you couldn't enjoy yourself and bring a hint more pleasure to his life.

#horror writing #robert englund characters #villain x reader #villain writing #mayor buckman x reader #mayor buckman #george buckman x reader #george buckman #2001 maniacs fic #2001 maniacs

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2023: #28

 28. GEORGIA Iru - “Echo” 29th place

Decade Ranking: 92/116 [Above Vladana, below Samanta Tina]

Great gown, beautiful gown; 

Enough time has passed. Echo sucked. Yeah SORRY we all want underdog countries to do well and they are often undeservedly sidelined but come on. Georgia is NOT Slovenia. Their failures are always self-inflicted and not the result of jealousy, but of being too much themselves and not caring how they come across (aka “Dilja Syndrome”). I love them for that normally but not here. When is Georgia is too much Georgia? When it’s not enough Visionary Dream, too much fucking Iriao whateverstan, that’s what. Enter, “Echo” which... is a song. Kind of. I guess? It lasts for three minutes and she sings some words. Words that don’t make sense (funny how quickly this becomes a source of aggravation once you realize it was a deliberate stylistic choice to emulate “uwu quirkiness”), but as if anyone could pay attention to Iru with those obnoxious lights and camera cuts going on. So much bombast, so little impact.

The backing track was a clash where the prerecorded vocalists and persussionists tried to outnoise eachother, a vain vanity project for Iru to flex her voice against.  Sadly the backing track won. Another thing that ground my gears at the time (enough to mention it five months later) were the Iru stans; Sure, ESC stans, you know them, we are them, you know how toxic they (we) can be sometimes. Nobody is innocent! But a line has to be drawn somewhere, and *I* draw mine way before reposting images depicting Iru crying in distress after her elimination, and using it to attack Blanka for “stealing” Iru’s spot. Respecting my idol’s feelings is nice but they rejected my ideal reality and it hurt my feelings, so GOODBYE respect!!! Espec when you consider Iru was upset in the first place because aforementioned braindead stanholes had spent months gaslighing her into believing she would have had an effortless path into the finale.  Good fucking job!!!

But nobody can take away that she did wear a really beautiful gown. 🙂

#Eurovision #Eurovision 2023 #Liverpool 2023 #Georgia #Iru #Echo

[follow-up-news]

A man who was wrongly incarcerated for 16 years in Florida before being exonerated and released was fatally shot by a sheriff's deputy in Georgia during a traffic stop Monday, officials said. Leonard Cure, 53, was convicted of armed robbery in Florida in 2003, according to the Broward County State Attorney's Office. In 2020, he was the first person to be exonerated as part of the state attorney's office Conviction Review Unit after a reinvestigation of the case found he was innocent.  Since his release, Cure had been working a job in security. He had hoped to go to college and work in broadcast radio production, and he was buying his first home, the state attorney's office said. But just three years after his release, Cure was fatally shot Monday morning by a Camden County deputy during a traffic stop on northbound Interstate 95, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation said in a news release.  Cure got out of the car at the deputy’s request and complied with commands “until learning that he was under arrest,” the GBI said.  He refused to comply with the deputy’s requests after that, and the deputy used a Taser. Cure “assaulted the deputy,” prompting the deputy to use the Taser for a second time and a baton, but “Cure still did not comply,” authorities said.  The deputy then pulled out a gun and shot Cure. He was treated by EMS and died later, the GBI said. It’s not clear what led to the traffic stop or why Cure was being placed under arrest.  The GBI said it will conduct an independent investigation. From there, the case will be handed to the Brunswick Judicial Circuit District Attorney’s Office for review.  The Innocence Project of Florida, which helped reinvestigate his case, said Cure was killed as he was on his way to his suburban residence in Georgia from visiting his mother in Florida. 

#florida #leonard cure #innocence project

[tieflingkisser]

US man wrongfully imprisoned for 16 years shot and killed by police

A Black man who spent 16 years in prison after being wrongfully convicted of a violent crime was shot and killed by police in Georgia on Monday. Leonard Cure, 53, was killed after a sheriff’s deputy pulled him over in south-eastern Georgia’s Camden county early on Monday morning. The Georgia bureau of investigation (GBI) is examining the shooting. Cure was released from prison in Florida in 2020 after a conviction review unit exonerated him of robbing a drug store in 2003. The Innocence Project of Florida represented Cure in his exoneration case. The group’s executive director, Seth Miller, said he was devastated by news of the death. “I can only imagine what it’s like to know your son is innocent and watch him be sentenced to life in prison, to be exonerated and … then be told that once he’s been freed, he’s been shot dead,” Miller told the Associated Press.

[...]

In June, Cure was granted $817,000 in compensation for his conviction and imprisonment, along with educational benefits. Miller said Cure, who lived in a suburb of Atlanta, received the money in August.

#leonard cure #georgia #acab #news #usa #police violence #murder #antiblackness #racism

[mariacallous]

Russian President Vladimir Putin said during a speech at the Future Technologies Forum on July 13 that “every age demands its own heroes.” Among such heroes he referred to Lavrentiy Beria, who headed the NKVD (a precursor to the KGB) from 1938-1945 and, as Putin noted, also led the Soviet atomic project. Putin has previously said Beria was a “famous nuclear physicist” (2018) and a “vetter who worked well” with anonymity (2016). In 2006, Putin accused Georgia of “succession to Beria’s policy” due to its detentions of Russian military personnel. Lavrentiy Beria was one of the organizers of mass repression and terror in the USSR. He was charged accordingly, and other crimes, after the death of Joseph Stalin. In accordance with the court’s verdict, Beria was shot (though there are other versions). The Military Collegium of the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation in 2000 refused to rehabilitate Lavrentiy Beria. The court stated that Beria and his closest associates were “organizers of terror” who “innocently affected thousands of citizens, many of whom died.” In 2014, the Supreme Court repeated this in another decision when it refused to rehabilitate three of Beria’s associates.

[tangleddd]

❄️🌈 for teasing wips/upcoming projects meme

ask game for teasing wips/upcoming projects - send an emoji and I'll answer!

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

Dear diary,

I can't believe it.

Here I am in my childhood home at 5:30 in the morning, just a few hours before my senior year of high school begins.

I remember the morning of my junior year so vividly, the last morning of my life before the Salvatore brothers were introduced. The Louise I was then — the one who should be here now — was so lost. I didn't feel like I belonged here, or like I belonged anywhere. I was searching for something that was just out of reach.

My bedroom looks just the way it always did, warm and cosy. My bay window gives me a view onto the quince tree outside. Down the hall is my twin sister, Elena and next door my darling baby brother, Jeremy.

Everything feels as if I might break it, it's so fragile. This moment has been gone for years.

Louise stopped writing and stared at her last line, shaking her head. Soon, she'd see everyone, everything, unchanged. They'd been so naïve—in a good way—focused on popularity and high school romances, and unaware of the darkness that hovered just outside their pleasant lives. She'd never appreciated what she had then. This time, she'd know to savour those moments of innocence.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

"What's this?" she asked suddenly.

"Huh?" he asked, without moving.

"On my ring." she said, shifting slightly and forcing him to look. He saw her adjusting the ring minutely. "It looks like...dates. Did you have this engraved?" He nodded as Louise narrowed her eyes and read the tiny print of the date aloud. "03.12.09" Biting her lip, Louise studied the date and Damon could tell by the way the colour drained from her face when she remembered the when. "Damon, this is...we weren't even together yet."

"Nope." he replied, taking her hand before he continued. "But we were together. In a bar. In Georgia."

"Oh." Louise breathed then grinned at him. "Our first road trip."

"Yup." he said, running his fingers over the tiny engraving. "Two very significant things happened during that trip."

"And what were those very significant things?" she asked, the grin evident in her voice.

"Well, I decided somewhere between your fifth and eighth beer, that any girl who could hold her liquor like you could, couldn't be half bad."

"Not half bad?" she repeated with a raised brow.

"Well, considering I was all bad at the time, that's actually pretty high praise."

Louise rolled her eyes, shifting her grip on his hand as she began to play with his daylight ring. "What's the other thing?"

"You saved my life." he said, vividly recalling the heat of the flames, the scent of the gasoline and Louise's anguished pleas for mercy. "For the first time."

#oc ask game #answered

[female-malice]

Today the police shot and killed a protester in Weelaunee Forest.

Dozens of heavily armed DeKalb Police, Atlanta Police and Georgia State police shut down Weelaunee People’s Park and nearby streets before entering the tree line with guns drawn and heavy machinery poised to continue forest destruction. 

Police have repeatedly raided this public park, flattened community gardens and art installations, attacked protestors with chemical weapons and rubber bullets, and threatened lethal force. During past raids, police have consistently escalated violent tactics on peaceful people who were sitting in trees or walking through the public park. Since June 6, 2022, activists and community members fighting to Defend the Atlanta Forest and Stop Cop City have been demanding that officers stop bringing weapons into the forest after APD pointed their weapons at peaceful protestors.

The police and local news are working together to control the flow of information, leaving us with vague news reports that suggest the officer fired at the civilian in self-defense. We know they will say and do anything to prevent an Atlanta officer from being viewed as another Derek Chauvin, including witholding, distorting, or deleting evidence. Supporters of the movement are calling on legal observers and journalists to document the violent police tactics being used against protestors.

Since the fatal shooting, this morning’s operation has continued with Brasfield and Gorrie’s heavy machinery entering the forest and cops shooting pepper balls at people who remain in the park–as if nothing has happened. The loss of our lives remains meaningless to the police. Police killed a forest defender for loving this earth, for taking a stand against the ongoing destruction of the planet and its people. Indiscriminate police murder, unfettered police violence is exactly why people have, for two years, called for the Cop City project to be cancelled immediately. As politicians invest in cops, militarization and police budgets are only increasing. Meanwhile, police murders peaked in 2022: U.S. cops killed 100 people every month. 

What is taking place is a classic example of tyrannical government overreach. The public has a right to defend its interests. We are advocates of a free and peaceful society built on cooperation and mutual understanding. The government is escalating this situation pointlessly. 

Allow peace to return to our community. 

Cancel the Cop City project. Return Intrenchment Creek Park to the public.

Drop the charges against protesters.

No one can bring our friend back to us. An innocent life has been taken and the machines continue. 

If you are in Atlanta, come to the candlelight vigil tonight, January 18th, at 6pm at the intersection of Moreland and Euclid.

Wherever you are, we invite you to come to Atlanta Friday, January 20 for a second candlelight vigil at 6pm to remember and grieve our lost friend. We will not go quietly into this dark night. RIP, with love and solidarity.

#fuck... this is what happens when you try to defend land in the US #cc

[thisblogisboundforglory-blog]

Kafka vs. the DOA

Dramatis Thingummy

Note: Some genders have been changed to protect the innocent and annoy the arrogant

Kafka Contracting, a General Contracting Company (construction)

Jill, Owner and Project Executive

Georgia, a Senior Project Manager

Yoda, a saint

President-for-Life Kim, Owner, and a more executive Project Executive

Airport, an Airport

Most subs, a murder of subcontractors

Some subs, an aggravated assault of subcontractors

Hardware sub, assholes who supply hardware. Fake Canadians

Carmel the Coworker, a supportive coworker

OCIP, Owner Controlled Insurance Program, because nobody is rich enough to pay the premiums on screwing up an international airport

Jay, an architect and Project Manager

#kafka general contracting

[slrmagazine]

VICTORIA BIGELOW Shares "The Kids"

VICTORIA BIGELOW Shares "The Kids", Luck Reunion "Artist of the Rise" Explores Loss of Innocence on New Song. #victoriabigelow @vsingssongs

Victoria Bigelow shares “The Kids,” the latest single and video from her upcoming project, Songs for No One Vol 2. Due May 10 via Immortal Records and produced by Devan Skaggs, the EP from the musician telling breathtaking stories of heartbreak and bittersweet hope follows last fall’s Vol. 1. The new track from the Georgia-raised, Arizona-based singer and songwriter follows her stunning lead…

View On WordPress

#Artist On The Rise #Immortal Records #Luck Reunion #Songs For No One Vol. 2 #The Kids #VICTORIA BIGELOW

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 12.2 (before 1950)

1244 – Pope Innocent IV arrives at Lyon for the First Council of Lyon. 1409 – The University of Leipzig opens. 1697 – St Paul's Cathedral, rebuilt to the design of Sir Christopher Wren following the Great Fire of London, is consecrated. 1763 – Dedication of the Touro Synagogue, in Newport, Rhode Island, the first synagogue in what will become the United States. 1766 – Swedish parliament approves the Swedish Freedom of the Press Act and implements it as a ground law, thus being first in the world with freedom of spee 1804 – At Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, Napoleon Bonaparte crowns himself Emperor of the French. 1805 – War of the Third Coalition: Battle of Austerlitz: French troops under Napoleon decisively defeat a joint Russo-Austrian force. 1823 – Monroe Doctrine: In a State of the Union message, U.S. President James Monroe proclaims American neutrality in future European conflicts, and warns European powers not to interfere in the Americas. 1845 – Manifest Destiny: In a State of the Union message, U.S. President James K. Polk proposes that the United States should aggressively expand into the West. 1848 – Franz Joseph I becomes Emperor of Austria. 1851 – French President Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte overthrows the Second Republic. 1852 – Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte becomes Emperor of the French as Napoleon III. 1859 – Militant abolitionist leader John Brown is hanged for his October 16 raid on Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. 1865 – Alabama ratifies the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, followed by North Carolina, then Georgia; U.S. slaves were legally free within two weeks. 1867 – At Tremont Temple in Boston, British author Charles Dickens gives his first public reading in the United States. 1899 – Philippine–American War: The Battle of Tirad Pass, known as the "Filipino Thermopylae", is fought. 1908 – Puyi becomes Emperor of China at the age of two. 1917 – World War I: Russia and the Central Powers sign an armistice at Brest-Litovsk, and peace talks leading to the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk begin. 1927 – Following 19 years of Ford Model T production, the Ford Motor Company unveils the Ford Model A as its new automobile. 1930 – Great Depression: In a State of the Union message, U.S. President Herbert Hoover proposes a $150 million public works program to help generate jobs and stimulate the economy. 1939 – New York City's LaGuardia Airport opens. 1942 – World War II: During the Manhattan Project, a team led by Enrico Fermi initiates the first artificial self-sustaining nuclear chain reaction. 1943 – World War II: A Luftwaffe bombing raid on the harbour of Bari, Italy, sinks numerous cargo and transport ships, including the American SS John Harvey, which is carrying a stockpile of mustard gas. 1947 – Jerusalem Riots of 1947: Arabs riot in Jerusalem in response to the United Nations Partition Plan for Palestine. 1949 – Convention for the Suppression of the Traffic in Persons and of the Exploitation of the Prostitution of Others is adopted.

#Events