#in my defense I didn’t know about the gas leak until like an hour to the end of the event

[girl-scout-camp]

Tell me why there’s a gas leak in the kitchen of the camp I was volunteering at today and we still??? Ran an event??? In that building???

#apparently it was ‘fine’ because one of the dads had turned off the gas to the kitchen about 30 minutes before I had gotten there #we lit a fire in the fireplace in the same building we could have died #there was no running water either we had to put the fire out with someone’s water bottle #jesus fucking christ i love camp #in my defense I didn’t know about the gas leak until like an hour to the end of the event #i just thought i was losing it for thinking it smelled like gas but nope #she speaketh

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump Day 1: Mind Control

It’s heeeeeere! 

Summary: The one where Parker luck is proven to be the worst luck. But hey, at least he's got the best family in the world to help him through it all.

Read at https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/71533821

Love you guys!!  Thanks for joining me on this journey! 

---

Chapter One

Peter doesn’t realize that something has gone terribly wrong until the last alien hits the ground.

At first he’s excited, body thrumming with adrenaline as he sidesteps over their victory. The fight had been, for lack of a better term, a satisfying study break. He takes a moment to stretch out the tightness in his back and shoulders, relishing in the cold air as his heart rate calms.

Satisfied, he sweeps his eyes across their small battlefield in search of a familiar flash of red and gold. Though the fight had started on the ground, they’ve ended up on the rooftop of some ritzy skyscraper, the city stretched far beneath them and painted gold in the dark light of the moon.

Aside from all the alien guts, it’s not a bad view.

“Tony?”

The man had called him just over an hour earlier asking for his help in scrambling up a couple of rouge aliens from their last big mission. Being close by and more than ready to assist his hero, Peter had been in his suit and by Tony’s side in a matter of minutes, hardly believing his luck. Somehow, despite everything they’ve been through, he still managed to get nervous every time he fought alongside his hero.

To his relief, however, the fight went off without a hitch. Unlike their normal brand, neither sustained any injuries, ‘finishing off the fight with flare’, as Tony would say.

But where is he now?

“Tony?” Peter calls again, slipping off his mask and looking around with enthusiasm. “Where’d you go?”

His voice carries and dies in silence.

“Hello?”

Confused and a little unnerved, Peter spins on his heels in a full 360 and debates putting his mask back on to ask Karen for Tony’s location. It’s out of character for Tony to vanish like this, and it makes his stomach tighten in worry.

“Mr. Stark!”

“Here.”

Peter jumps and turns towards the noise, feeling relief leak into his limbs. “Oh. H-hey man. There you are.”

Tony doesn’t say anything, stiff as a board and levitating a few feet off the ground. There’s a chunk of metal missing from his helmet, ripped clean through so his right eye and nose are showing.

“You’re mask-”

“Peter Parker?”

“What? Yeah Tony. Are- are you okay? You look a little off. Did one of the aliens hurt-”

But there is no ‘you’, because before Peter can finish his sentence, Tony is flying towards him at an alarming speed, repulsors glowing bright. Startled, Peter jumps out of the way and shouts in alarm. “Tony! What the-”

A fiery blast of hot energy hits the ground between his feet. Yelling out once more, Peter scrambles back, hands raised in frantic defense at the sudden rush of heat. “Tony! Stop! What are you doing?”

He doesn’t get an answer. As Tony progresses forward, Peter tries desperately to connect with the man, but his eyes are as blank and empty as the night sky behind him. It’s then that it all comes together, and Peter feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“Oh- oh no. Did you breathe in any gas? Oh God. You did, didn’t you?”

Another blast of energy is fired towards him. It barely misses his shoulder and the material of his suit begins to smoke. Not good. So not good. The aliens were known to produce an aerial toxin that triggers the brain to be particularly inclined to violence. Someone would kill their own family if exposed to it.

And right now, Peter is the only target.

Just his luck.

“Snap out of it Mr. Stark! Wake up!”

Peter feels his heel catch on uneven cement and he stumbles, falling hard on his butt and using the momentum to scramble backwards on his hands and feet. The fear hits him now. He feels it in the sharp sting on the back of his tongue and the inability to fully breathe, his spider-sense screaming and making his head spin. He moves to pull on his mask and realizes in detached wonder that he no longer has it in his hand.

“Peter Parker,” Tony says again, his voice monotonous and void of everything Peter is used to. It’s chilling, and Peter lifts a shaky hand in warning.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

But Tony does. Without blinking an eye, he closes the distance between them and encloses his gauntleted hand around Peter’s outstretched wrist. Before Peter can comprehend the pain, his web shooter sparks with electricity as the gadget breaks under pressure. He screams as his wrist snaps along with the mechanism and arcs his foot up in a reflexive kick. It hits Tony in the abdomen and succeeds in forcing the man to let go, pushing him back a couple steps.

Breathing heavily, Peter scrambles away, broken wrist pinned to his chest protectively. He can feel Tony following him closely and gasps when his metal fingers close around his shoulder, halting his escape.

Peter uses his remaining web shooter to fire a web at Tony’s oncoming fist, pulling the force of it off course so it slams into the concrete at their feet. It breaks like ice around the impact and the shock of knowing it had been directed at him leaves him weak.

“Tony please-”

Undeterred, Tony swings his arm with the web out to the side, throwing Peter off his balance. As he stumbles, Tony uses his other hand to throw a hard punch into the boy’s ribs. He hears them crack but hardly feels the pain, tears welling in his eyes.

“This- this isn’t you. Look at me-”

Peter gasps as his undamaged wrist is pinned against the roof, the metal crushed just like the first. As he screams, Tony finds his eyes, staring blankly and completely unaffected by Peter’s pain.

“It’s me. It’s- It’s Peter. This isn’t you! Fight it!”

The panic and fear in his body has made him numb. When Tony closes his hand around Peter’s throat, he can barely blink, let alone fight it away. The very real possibility that he’s about to die races through him like lightning.

“T-Tony. Mr. Stark.”

The pressure on his throat increases as the man lifts him off the ground. Peter manages to lift his hands to the vice grip, fingers curling around Tony’s in an attempt to relieve the strain. It makes his wrists shoot in pain and for a moment, all he can see are stars.

When his vision clears, he’s hanging by Tony’s hand over a 100 story drop. The city swarms like an anthill beneath them and Peter tightens his hold against Tony’s. His web shooters are shattered.

If Tony drops him, he will die.

“Tony,” Peter chokes. With every ounce of being he can muster, he searches Tony’s eyes. Just as before, they hold no resemblance to the man Peter knows. His hero. His friend.

His family.

“Don’t drop me.”

The grip tightens so dramatically that Peter thinks his neck will be crushed before he even gets the chance to fall. Despite the pain, he refuses to break his eye contact with his mentor. They glimmer against Peter’s reflection, glassy and distant.

“Not your fault,” he chokes. It’s hard to speak around the vice grip and nearly impossible to pull together sentences through the thick fog in his head. But he tries, even when his vision tunnels. It’s important. “I- I- forgive you. Don’t- don’t blame yourself, okay?”

He needs Tony to understand. This could be his last chance, and more than ever, despite hanging above certain death, he knows it to be true.

“I l-love you.”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Tony’s eyes. A glimmer of himself that almost has Peter believing that it’s over, that they’ll be okay.

But then Tony drops him.

He doesn’t have the breath to scream.

Though Tony disappears quickly from his view, Peter keeps the man’s face in his mind as the ground races up to meet him. It fills his eyes with tears, the injustice of it all.

Tony will never forgive himself.

And Peter is going to die.

The wind rips through him viciously as he plummets. He’s fallen through this same skyline countless times and can hardly believe it’s his last.

He closes his eyes and sees May’s face beside Tony’s. Ned and MJ’s, too.

Though he’s never prayed before in his life, the words come to him now.

Help them be safe. Help them be okay.

He wants to be brave. He wants it more than anything.

Eyelids dark, it’s impossible to tell how close he is to the ground. The sounds of traffic draw closer, he thinks he hears a scream.

The impact is jarring.

It hits him all at once, stealing his air and lighting every broken bone on fire. For one soul wrenching second, he thinks the pain of it is his last conscious thought. That just like that, his short sixteen years have expired into dust.

Then he feels metal arms under his shoulders and thighs, hears through the static the distant roar of repulsors. Swears and sobs echo through it all in a delirious cocktail of grief, and Peter comes to the realization quite slowly that he hasn’t died after all.

“Tony?” It’s weak and breathless, like he’s just hopped off the world’s fastest roller coaster. With the last of his energy, his eyelids separate and he sees Tony’s face, covered in tears and unmistakable horror.

He had caught him.

“Tony-”

They crescent their journey on the top of a different, much shorter building. Peter feels himself being laid on his back and for some reason beyond his current comprehension, can’t find the strength to move from it.

Above him, Tony has his head in his hands. He’s shaking and Peter tries to reach out towards him, to show him he’s alright, but all he can do is twitch his fingers.

“Nice- nice catch.”

Tony’s shoulders still, going dangerously quiet. Peter watches with blurred vision as his face appears from behind his hands, the eye Peter can see bloodshot and brimming with an emotion he’s too tired to fully recognize.

“Pete-”

“Not your fault,” Peter breathes, exhausted. He closes his eyes and almost can’t find the strength to open them again. His body feels like the plane he had crashed in Coney Island.

“It is my fault,” Tony says. There’s tension and remorse coloring his voice, which tremors violently. “Christ, Peter. I hurt you.”

“You- you saved me.”

“No!”

“You always save me.”

“Peter-”

“S’okay.” He tries for a smile, but it must look like a grimace because Tony stifles another noise of regret. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“Oh kid-”

With a rush of vertigo, Peter feels himself being pulled up into Tony’s arms. It’s only until he feels the warmth of Tony’s skin that he realizes he’s removed himself from his suit. It’s nice, familiar, and the last of Peter’s resolve vanishes like smoke.

His hero.

His friend.

And in some ways, his father.

If he hadn’t known it before, he sure as hell knows it now.

“I love you too, kiddo,” Tony whispers, and Peter feels their hug tighten, as if it’s the man’s sole intention of never letting go.

And maybe, Peter thinks, it is.

#febuwhump #febuwhump day 1 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #febuwhump 2021 #peter parker whump #enjoooooooy!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Alright on Paper Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T (for now) Word count: 1699 Chapter: 1/?

Spideychelle Week Day 4: Fake Dating

Summary: Reading the newspaper has taught MJ a lot about the Avengers' relationships. Doesn't mean she wants to be in one.

Or, MJ fake-dates Spider-Man, but won't commit because she has a crush on Peter Parker.

MJ reads the paper.

Oh, what, she’s supposed to be above reading the paper because print is dead and the internet offers both more news (stories and outlets) and faster access to it? Tough. She still reads it because her dad still gets it. He’s had a subscription since he graduated college and thought reading the Times―tucking it under his arm and flipping through the pages while he rode the subway―was a more accurate measure of adulthood than owning a car. (They still don’t have a car, by the way. MJ is never going to learn to drive. Ugh.)

The appeal that drew her to it, at the age of four, was the occasional editorial cartoon, utterly beyond her comprehension. These days, she’s a little more interested in the articles on domestic politics, but hey, people are allowed to evolve.

So if you’re her, you’re MJ, you’re living in New York and you’re paying attention, you’re going to notice the Avengers. Notice shit like violent attacks and streets covered in rubble―although, that’s basically the city at rush hour during construction season. She’s noticing other things though, Avengers voicing opinions, reviving a feeling of civic interest, pride, and responsibility. She’s noticing the tide turning; citizens less interested in blaming superheroes for unscheduled demolition in Manhattan and more interested in who does Hawkeye’s tattooing or which karaoke bar Thor can most likely be found at on a Friday night.

And the Avengers’ relationships. New Yorkers are feeding on (super-)human interest stories with their faces so close to the pages they just about rub all the ink off with their noses.

It’s a terrible thing to know this, to be as observant as MJ is, tracking these changing attitudes and becoming an accidental expert on the path to good PR for the biologically, magically, genetically, or otherwise enhanced. Reading the paper is what gets her in trouble―sooner, rather than later―when Spider-Man starts hanging around.

Technically, he’s always hanging (that web shit is strong stuff, by the looks of it), and he’s always around. MJ figured out ages ago that Queens is his home base. Still, their borough’s just big enough and just crowded enough that she’d never encountered him in person until a few months ago. Now she sees him all. The. Time. He says coincidence, she says to-mah-to, and it really is him saying that because they’re officially on speaking terms. It’s an improvement to their interactions, mutually decided upon after Spider-Man scared the bejesus out of her when she was standing on her apartment’s balcony one day, glanced over the edge, and saw him crawling up the wall.

The deal became that if he was going to drop by, he better be obvious about it. This led to a routine MJ is loath to describe with the word ‘charming,’ but which may or may not involve her going out to the balcony or chilling by the open window of her bedroom on Saturday mornings, after her parents have left to run errands, and offering Spider-Man a glass of orange juice while they chat and she shares her paper with him. He likes the arts section. She likes watching him read it, sticking to the wall outside her window, the posters for whatever’s in theatres appearing upside down.

He joked one time about them catching a Saturday matinee together. She’s pretty sure he was joking.

The deal evolves as the weeks go by. MJ’s apartment is less of a rest stop between crime-fighting gigs and more of a superhero counselling centre with only one client. Not that Spider-Man is looking to her, a high school student, to mend whatever trauma led to him donning a formfitting red costume and babysitting an entire city, but she’s sure giving him a lot of advice lately.

It’s just… life stuff, really, and MJ doesn’t know where he sees authority when he looks at her, yawning in her jammies as she passes his juice through the open window, but he seems to listen. Maybe her dad was right about the paper; it’s possible that reading it makes her appear wise.

But it makes her act like a damn idiot in a crisis.

She’s heading to a guidance appointment one Wednesday (it’s junior year and MJ is getting some assistance with scouting out colleges) and the halls are empty; she was given permission to leave class five minutes early. When she turns the corner towards the guidance room, there’s Spider-Man. Just standing there. Middle of the hallway. MJ drops a textbook and it strikes the ground with a deafening slap.

This is her comfortable weekend companion, the hero of Queens. She adjusted to understanding that Spider-Man can be both, but there doesn’t seem to be any room in her mind for him to also exist midmorning at Midtown Tech.

He’s staring back at her (she can tell―the aperture of the white eyes on his mask has expanded in shock), arms held away from his body sort of comically, and MJ’s trying to recall if she’s ever seen him upright before when the jarring old-school bell rings and students flood from the door of every classroom.

Spider-Man bounds towards her, grabs her book from the floor, pushes it to her chest until she grips it, and says, “I know what to do.”

Everyone’s starting to make sounds of surprise, recognizing the Avenger in their midst, but even though MJ knows Spider-Man is kind of a hero of the people, he’s not acknowledging them at all. In fact, he’s wrapping his arms around her, and her eyes―boy oh boy―are wide. There’s just one thing on her mind besides what his suit feels like against the backs of her hands…

She’s praying that Peter isn’t seeing this.

“I’ll swing by your apartment later,” Spider-Man promises, speaking quietly near her ear.

He puts another little squeeze into the hug before stepping back. Reeling, MJ watches him give their audience a polite wave as he walks backwards in the direction of the nearest exit.

“Sorry, guys,” he tells the gathered crowd. “Uh, duty calls. I just wanted to stop by and see my girlfriend.”

Heads are swivelling to stare at MJ even before she drops the book for the second time.

\\\

“How?” she demands of him that evening, pacing tightly on the balcony while her parents laugh along to a sitcom in the living room. “How could that be you ‘knowing what to do’?!”

“I was doing what you said,” Spider-Man says defensively. He’s pacing too, along the balcony’s two-inch-wide railing. (She’s too mad to be worried.)

“Excuse me? We’re putting this on me? When was I an active part of that plan, while I was holding that stupid textbook or while my arms were pinned because you were hugging me? I’d really like to know.”

“W-well, it’s what you said about public perception of the Avengers.”

“Specifics!”

“Like Iron Man,” he argues, lowering his voice after how she snapped. “People like hearing about him and Pepper Potts.”

“And have you always modeled yourself after Tony Stark, or is this sudden, public relationship announcement your first foray?”

They stare at each other for a minute, Spider-Man balancing and MJ looking up at him―which is kind of weird after they hugged today and she realized he’s shorter than she is. She sighs, regretting her harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I know what you did was thoughtless―”

“Well―”

“―ill-advised―”

“Literally your advice.”

“―and, frankly, moronic―”

“Hey.”

“―but I get it, you panicked―”

“I had it under control.”

“―so I forgive you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Now, come down here so I don’t have to keep resisting the urge to shove you off that railing.”

Once Spider-Man flips down (she’s already forgiven him―what, does he think he’s getting bonus points for landing the dismount?), MJ crosses her arms and gives that red mask of his a stern look.

“Still not thrilled, huh?”

“Good guess,” she says dryly.

“I might be missing something here, but… why? I mean, I didn’t think I did anything to embarrass you. Did I hurt you somehow?”

MJ shrugs and stares at her slippers.

“People saw.”

There’s a pause.

“…We already knew that.” His tone is almost clueless enough to make her apprehensive that this is the guy she and the rest of Queens have protecting them.

“I don’t know if… if a certain person saw.”

She’s blushing hard to admit even this much of a crush and she’d be mortified if she wasn’t making her confession to this socially illiterate superhero.

“Boyfriend?” Spider-Man asks. MJ glances up to see him leaning extremely un-casually against the wall, arms folded a little less tensely than hers.

“You sound skeptical,” she accuses.

“You’ve never mentioned him.”

MJ glares for a few seconds before backing down.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend. And you didn’t know that either because we only ever talk about you.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Spider-Man immediately offers, like he’s trying to even things up.

Groaning, she lets her shoulders slump.

“You do now.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty unlikely that nobody took a picture.”

“Safe to assume the students of a school called Midtown Tech are tech-savvy enough to work a cellphone camera. By the way,” MJ adds, narrowing her eyes at him, “why were you there?”

“Oh, um, gas leak in one of the Chemistry labs. They dispatch the fire department for that kind of thing and I hate for emergency services to get tied up if I can fix it myself.”

“Huh. I had no idea gas leaks were in your repertoire. Thought muggers and bicycle thieves were more your beat.”

She’s teasing him pretty lightly considering he definitely just lied to her. It’s fine, she’ll wait to crack him until he’s forgotten all about visiting her school.

Spider-Man swings his arms nervously.

“If it’s a community problem, I’m on it. I’m just a friendly―”

“―neighbourhood Spider-Man,” MJ finishes. “Yeah, I’ve heard the tagline. And you’re also my fake boyfriend until we figure out a way for you to tactfully dump me.”

He takes an excited step towards her.

“I know wha―”

She cuts him off with a swiftly raised hand.

“Don’t even say it.”

#SpideychelleWeek2k19 #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #spideychelle fic #spider-man #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #my writing #spider-man fanfiction #Marvel MCU #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #MCU #Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #fanfiction #fake dating

[technohumanlation]

Whumptober Day 7

The ever so lovely @whumptober2019 made a list of prompts to complete every day for the whole month of October and I’m giving a shot at it this year! 

As always read what you can handle and do not read if you are squimish to any of the warnings. 

Isolation

Characters: Connor, Nines, Sixty, Tobias (An OC android)

Warnings: swearing

Hello, everyone, this one is a sweet little treat that was so so fun to write. This one features an OC, an RK700 named Tobias, my friend Clare and I birthed for one of our (very long) RP sessions. We created an origin story for him and I showed her the prompt (that was very fitting) and I was like “yo can I use our boi?” And she was all “ye” so this prompt actually may be longer because its made with love just like our Tubbs (as Sixty nicknamed him)

Also, I would like to give wholeheartedly give credit to the lovely Kumikoseph. I used some of her writing from our RP with her permission and tweaked it to fit the plot of this prompt. Please give her works a look see and some love as well. <3 

Tobias was a late model for the RK700 line. As a matter of fact, the last one before RK800 was developed. Many did not know of this particular model because of its' failure of development. The scientist who was appointed lead on this specific model was named Avril and her sweet daughter Sonny who lived in the lab alongside her mother.

She had given him a name, a name fitted for his odd, yet kind appearance. Cyberlife did not agree with her choices but had, after all, given her some creative freedom. His skinny yet lithe form matched his pale skin. It held an unnatural glow under the florescent lights of the lab. Against milky white, freckles were mapped across his skin as if an artist took a paintbrush and paged through the bristles. His eyes were of emerald green, and his hair was an unruly red mop of curly hair. 

Avril always smiled when the topic came to her sweet Tobias.  

But Cyberlife was doing the opposite. They had plans for the RK series, and she was not meeting such requirements thus far. Their ever so generous slack around the leash and collar grew suddenly tight.  

He was flawed.

Tobias was a sweet, loving, caring, android that was taught to respect life, small and large. The low murmurings could be heard at night when the mother read a bedtime story to both the android and Sonny. The little girl would fall asleep in his arms. Avril would go back to her computers and monitors and read through feedbacks and log her days in a journal of her own.

He was to be designed to work harmoniously with humans. And what better way than to teach him the good of humanity.

Her eyes looked over to the duo, and her heart ached and sang.  

The directors were presented Tobias and displayed the many features he held. He could speak fifty different languages and could perform emergency field medicine. He could act with kindness around children and adapt to their ways of thinking easily. He was made to co-exist with humans, young and old.

He was considerate and held an intelligent conversation with one of the directors. His problem-solving skills were impeccable. Humor was not foreign to him.

And then.

She was asked of his weapon knowledge. If he could perform basic fighting techniques. If he could be aggressive when needed to. If he was obedient, blindly so. If he were asked to kill, would he? If he were asked to shoot himself, would he?

The questions were horrific.

She stepped forward, ready to speak for him, but they held up a hand silencing her. She obeyed. Tobias' soft-spoken voice held a quiver as he stood before the men in suits with clipboards in hand. His LED swam from blue to yellow to red and back over again.

“I-I can not.” He confessed. “I...do not wish to...harm.”

Pens were scribbled against paper.  

She was running out of time.

To put off the inevitable, she did as she was told and placed new programs into his code. He knew primary self-defense and knowledge of using any and all weapons. The android did not question this new array of knowledge and displayed his capabilities unto targets and dummies. He would always pass with an eighty-nine accuracy. A low number compared to other android models. Perhaps it was Avrils' flawed humanity that affected him. After all, she had developed him. A mother could only do so much to improve life for her offspring.  

Or was it the simple truth that he was growing opinion and needs and wants at an interestingly fast rate.

“I...do not wish to...harm.”

Androids did not have wishes.

Avril believed anything with a living or potentially living conscience had a right to wish. To dream. To want. To need. To feel.

To be alive.

Tobias was already deviant, and the board was catching on. She could no longer hide this development. They monitored everything. Right down to her observations, she began to twist and falsify. Sleep was unknown. Hunger grew. Her mind unraveled as time began to coil around her tighter and tighter.  

She had a plan. To save her work. Her beautiful Tobias.

“Avril, is everything alright?”

Wires snaked into his neck as he stood on the assembly platform behind her. His LED swam a curious blue. His face was scrunched in such genuine concern.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose that had slid down. Poor Avril had not slept in the last forty-eight hours.  

She stopped and turned around, facing the android.  

“Tobias...you are not flawed. You are not what they saw you are.”

He ticked his head to the side LED swimming a faster blue.

She stood from her computer and tightened the lab coat around her. "You were made in my image. My idea of a model officer of the law. Kind, caring, considerate, brave, loyal, hopeful." She paused, her throat tightening. "...empathetic." She reached out and brushed her hand down his arm.

Her eyes saddened. “They want a robot to do everything they say and do. Everything they want and wish for...blindly. And that’s not what this world needs.”

They wanted an android so ruthless for some larger plan. The RK series had developed from the ideal of an intelligent life form better than any human. To a slave that could wreak havoc at the turn of a blind command.

“Something is happening, Toby. And if we can thwart it or even stop this...maybe it won't be for waste..."

He remained confused.

Her eyes watered as innocent emerald’s peered deep into her soul. A sweet, beautiful RK700 they were to throw away because he was ‘flawed’ in their twisted image. She was his to protect.

By any means necessary.

If she did not have a breakthrough, there would be danger.

And it came. The day they found out of her journals.  

Her hidden words and confessions were found out.

Little Sonny was down for a nap. Tobias had just tucked her in.

The first step was to cripple the security circuit on her labs' floor. Hectically she typed away. Tobias leaned over her shoulder, watching. "What are you doing?"

She didn't answer, too concentrated on her work.

“Avril, please tell me."

“I'm sorry, Toby," she murmured. "It's for the best." She quickly turned around, pressing a finger to his LED and pressed another button on the keyboard.  

Tobias’ body went limp.

The shutdown was too curt and too aggressive. Memory banks and programs were corrupted from the shutdown. A sacrifice of all the hard work she was willing to give up just for the safety of her creation.  She severed tracking codes and anything that tied the android to Cyberlife. He was to be an unnamed, unmarked, a numberless android. He never existed to the records' eye. Her computers were wiped aggressively, her work and research were destroyed.

All that was left was the hardest part.

She dragged the android to a storage closet. A small handleless door that lead to a single person closet. Sweat and panicked breaths came from her as she hefted him into a slot into the wall of the closet.  

She hefted the metal plate into the wall and made her way back out into the lab.

“Mommy?" The little girl had awoken from her nap, rubbing at her tired eyes.

Cyberlife security donned in heavy black and white gear came into her lab, she raised her hands, slowly making her way to stand in front of her daughter.

She had recited her ploy.

Tobias had escaped, and in doing so, in a rage she didn’t program. He had erased everything that was him claiming he was not to be a slave anymore. He had revolted against his creator and had escaped Cyberlife. He had hacked into all security footage and shut down the system in time for his escape.

Now, her job was terminated, and her lab was now covered in white tarps. This is where her life was dedicated to. To Tobias. She made no indication of ever looking towards the closet. The android was hidden right under their noses. It was comical and cruel and unfair. She took her daughter by the hand and smiled sadly.

“Tobias will come back, babe.” She assured. “He’ll find you again. I promise”

Avril knew too much of Cyberlife's confidential plans. She was a security risk. A mysterious chain of events leads up to her timely death. It was made to be a simple, innocent bag snatching gone wrong as she walked home from her night shift at the local gas station.  

Only she would know that she was shoved into the nearby alley and shot point-blank in the head. Her bag was tossed about on the cold concrete.

Sweet eight-year-old Sonny was conveniently placed in an adoption home and who knew beside Cyberlife where the child was, sworn to secrecy by fear.

As for Tobias, the sounds of innovation and improvement crackled beyond the metal wall. There he slept for a year, cobwebs and dust settling over him like a blanket of virgin snow as he slumbered.   Thirium had collected in his lines and had hardened and evaporated. Computer chips and processors were lined with condensation when a leak from a coolant line had formed just next to his shoulder. His skin grew pearly white patches as artificial human visage programs degraded over time.

A year in unaware isolation.

Until now.

An android, an RK900 named Nines, raised his flashlight peering into the newly discovered room hidden deep within the Cyberlife tower. In the initial comb-through of the building quite a few months prior, all located androids had been turned deviant, himself and Sixty included, with the help of Connor and Jericho, but it seemed they hadn’t quite been as thorough as they thought.

Scanning every object in his vision, Nines categorized and identified everything he saw. This was a rather chilling find after all.

Sixty shivered. This place would forever make his wires and line crawl. “Can we...can we get this over with guys? Seriously we got everyone. There’s...what are you doing? It’s just a closet, that’s where Nines and Gavin are hiding, oh my god...” He reluctantly followed after Connor and stood guard at the door of the storage closet.

“Enough, Sixty," Connor warned, exasperated. "I do not like this any more than you do."

Nines ignored his brothers. “I see no explanation for why it was hidden and boarded up...” Within Nines observational voice echoed dully. Turning his flashlight, he noticed another section of the metal wall. It was out of place, carefully constructed to look like any other panel, but to him, he saw the flaw. It stuck out like a sore thumb.

“I found something...”

From behind, Sixty snorted. “Gavin's sense of humor, mayhaps?" He raised an eyebrow at the lack of an answer. "Nothing?"

Nines rolled his eyes at the cheap jab. A harsh sound of metal grinding on metal sounded, and both RK800 brothers were on alert. "Nines?" Connor called out.  

The android caught the limp form that fell into him.

“Connor? Sixty?” Nines called, turning to glance over his shoulder at the androids behind him. “We might have a body on our hands.”

“A body?” Both their voices echoed together.

“Get them outta there then!” Sixty urged. Not yet. Nines had to asses the situation first before it was brought to light, literally.

It was an android. An android that looked remarkably like himself, Connor and Sixty.

“It’s... an RK700”, Nines spoke after scanning the serial number that was presented on once-white Cyberlife clothing. "But there's no record of him even existing. Not even an excerpt from other archival files."

“What? RK700?" Sixty said, oh so intelligently.

“There was no record of other RK units, though..." Connor murmured calmly. So opposite of the youngest brother.  

He glanced back at the other two, an atypical look of surprise on his face, "I was not aware that there were any more RK models that hadn't been destroyed as well.”

Nines observed the deactivated android’s appearance. It seemed there was not much difference in design between the construction of the RK700 model and the development of himself. There were just a few notable differences. Fiery red hair and skin that was quite a bit more be-speckled than his, Connor's or Sixty's.

It appeared they had a mystery on their hands.

Tuning the flashlight off. Nines reaches under the android’s shoulders and knees, heaving him up with little effort and carrying him back out of the secluded closet. The smell of rotten clothing, damp stagnant water, and thirium filling his nose at this range.

Nines examined the android more closely, tilting his head at the clumps of dust gathered in his brightly albeit patchy colored hair. His milky skin was in the same state. He had clearly been in there for a long time.

Gently Nines laid him on the cold tiled floor before the brothers. He stood up and sighed, looking down at him in brighter light.

A sudden laugh broke the tense air making Connor and Nines jump. “He’s a fucking ginger! A ginger you!” He pointed at Connor and cackled.

The middle brother looked up to him with a disapproving frown. "Oh, come on..." Sixty rolled his eyes, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "Don't you know I use humor in times of great stress?"

“We know...” Nines nodded all too used to his younger brother’s antics. “I’d say he’s been in that room for a year at least, perhaps even longer, still...” He turned back to Connor and Sixty.

Connor frowned, completing Nine's concerned hunch for him. “Why did they deactivate and lock him up upon becoming obsolete as opposed to dismantling him?”

Sixty was the one to break the silence, his voice somber. "He was hidden away. His spot in the closet was boarded up and half-assed. He was tossed away. C'mon, use that brain of yours, Wonderboy. He was hidden." Sixty murmured.  

“For...whatever reasons only he knows or not.” Connor agreed.

It was a curious thing, something they would perhaps only glean an answer from by waking the android up.

“Would either of you like to do the honors?” Nines’ voice was slow and unsure.

“Wait, Shouldn't we call this in first?" Connor said, placing a hand out.

Sixty turned to him, firmly gesturing to the android before them. “Connor, no! This...this guy is basically our brother. If we call it in who knows what the fuck they will do to him. Let’s try to patch him up first. If he woke up on another table." Sixty was speaking from personal experience. "At least for me, that would freak me the fuck out. We have a chance of helping one of our own..."

Connor pursed his lips together in a fine line.

Nines remained distant. It was enough of an answer for the middle brother.

They both watched as Sixty lowered himself onto his haunches. The newly discovered android was peaceful, those eyelashes dusting his cheeks so perfectly.  

He cupped the android's face gently with one hand the other moving to grip his forearm, artificial skin peeling back. Automatically, despite being offline, he disturbingly reacted to grasp his forearm. "Oh, that's creepy, god, we're creepy." Sixty shivered visibly as a blue glow was formed between the two limbs. "I've...never done this before, but I will be gentle. I guess...I mean, might be bumpy." He shrugged.

Connor flicked a halfhearted smile at his own form of a disclaimer.

"Alright, wake up, ginger. Rise and shine." He slapped his cheek a few times in a good-natured way.  

Nines watched his brother with careful eyes. Right here and now would start a journey they had no idea they were getting themselves into.

After a moment of silence and the steady hue of blue emitting from white plastimetal, the android onlined with a sudden gasp that had Sixty flinching.

“Easy!” Sixty shouted in surprise upon his sudden awakening. Unknowingly, amid the panic, he had also said his name.

The android calmed, exchanging glances between the brothers.

Nines looked to Sixty, and Connor was just as shocked.

Tobias was welcomed as their new younger brother.

#whumptober2019 #no.7 #Isolation #DBH #detroit become human #Sixty #Connor #Nines #OC android #swearing

[221bshrlocked]

Gas station clerk Seb. Kind of a redneck jerk. Convinces you to blow him and let him take you out back and fuck you during break Over a stack of milk crates near the dumpsters because you’re a dirty girl and he knows it!

let’s start easy shall we ;) NSFW gifs under cut and some dirty talk like slut so if you don’t like it, leave.

“I still have another 3 hours you asshole!” You almost yelled into your phone, trying to see if you wanted an overdose of Red Bull or Monster because this fucking drive was horrible. Looking around, you didn’t see anyone else in the store so you continued your, slightly more swear-induced, rant.

“Son of a bitch I swear on your goose’s life I will shove this rice crispy so far up your ass you’ll see Kellogg’s in your dreams-”

“The mouth on ya…” You turned around as soon as you heard someone whispering near you, eyes almost falling out of their sockets when you saw the man looking at you and licking his lips when his eyes went to your legs.

“Yeah yeah I’m still here. Imma call you back.” You shoved the phone in your back pocket and leaned down to grab your bag, immediately hearing the same man groaning before he muttered something again. Five minutes later and you were sure he was following you around on purpose, and the worst part was, you weren’t freaked out by him. He looked hot as hell, and if he were to just grow out his hair a bit, oh man he’d be a lady killer.

Then again, he looked like he already was. That short buzzcut made him look more rugged in a way. Like he could fuck you anywhere at any moment and you’d still beg for more.

“Somethin I can help you with sweetheart?” You didn’t realize you’d been ogling the man but his comment made you flush, almost dropping your sodas and snacks. Ignoring him, you just walked to the counter and waited until whoever was working to ring you up.

“Well hello there dollface, you got everything sorted out?”

Okay, he was somehow better looking up close than earlier.

“Why thank you sweet cheeks…I’ll gladly help’ya out with anythin else! If you know what I mean.” He winked at you and rang you up, missing the horrid look you gave him.

“Excuse me?”

“You look like you need a stress reliever and I’ve been known to relieve some stress.” He was chewing his gum obnoxiously loudly and you hated how sure of himself he was, but honestly, he looked like he had the right equipment.

“Does that really work on girls?” You laughed at him, noticing the way his smile faltered before he started tapping his fingers.

“Nah…usually I take it nice and slow,” he smirked when he saw your reaction, “but you look like the kinda girl that wants a good dicking down without the foreplay.” If you weren’t surprised before, you were now. “And if you wait another ten minutes, I’ll show you a really good time outback. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.” He gave you the receipt and walked back to the food section, placing the snacks in their designated spot as if he did not just offer to have sex with you.

The smart you would have smacked him and walked out and drove. But the suddenly angry and horny part of you knew you needed to let out your frustrations one way or another and well, if the man offered…

You were so invested in thinking about this whole thing when a friendly knock made you jump. You pushed the car door and walked out, avoiding his gaze when he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Didn’t mean to frighten you sweetheart.”

“Oh go fuck yourself.” You suddenly became defensive, knowing this was the only way to avoid blushing at his little pet names. “Sebastian.” He responded, hands going around your back and leading you to the building.

“What?”

“You’ll need to scream a name love.” He was on you as soon as he shut the door, grabbing your hands and slaming them above your head. He pushed away when you moaned at his roughness, smiling wickedly before leaning down and nipping at the top of your breasts. “You like it rough…or you want me to take my sweet time with you?”

“Sebastian-”

“Nuh uhh. You want it rough. You want me to fuck this pussy? Make you cum all ova me? My cum leaking down your legs while you walk outta here? You dirty slut- you’d let me have my way with ya and beg for more..” Sebastian seemed amused at your state of incoherency, letting go of your hands and pulling on your hair.

“You’re gonna let me fuck your face then this pussy! Got it?” You nodded and almost tripped when he pulled you back until he sat down on a chair. “Suck me off you cockwhore.” You whimpered at his words, kneeling in front of him and palimg him through his pants before unzipping them and taking his cock out.

The man definitely had a reason to be cocky.

“Open your mouth baby…let me feel that tongue around me. Beautiful lips gonna look so good stretching around my cock.” You spat on the head of his dick before taking him in your mouth, your eyes beginning to water a bit because he was well endowed. You jerked him off while sucking hard on the hard tip, looking up and seeing him competely blissed out.

“Shit dollface your mouth is amazing. Take me deeper love…fucking-” He pushed you down on him, holding your head for a few seconds before letting go and massaging your cheek when you started coughing.

“So sexy baby..got me so hard with that filthy mouth of yours.” He kept on praisnig you and pulling on your hair every once in a while, his moans making you hornier and wishing he’d just take you.

“Fuck fuck I’m- come here..” He pulled you up and kissed your swollen lips, working on your jeans and pulling them down before spreading your legs and rubbing you through your panties. “Doll you’re so wet. My slut wants to be fucked in a storage room in the middle of nowhere. You’d do anything for me to shove that cock deep in you wouldn’t you.”

“Please…just- please Sebastian I want you. Make you feel so good.”

“Whatever the lady asks.” He stood up and pulled a condom out of his back pocket, rolling it on himself before bending down and grabbing your thighs. You squealed when he carried you and kissing you again, your legs automatically crossing around his hips. Supporting you with one arm, he thrust in slowly at first before grabbing your ass and spanking it.

“Fuckkkkkk you’re tight. Gonna make me cum so hard baby?” Sebastian shut his eyes and tried to focus on lasting a little longer. You felt so good wrapped around him he almost lost it. But then you moaned in his ears and his patience evaported.

“Bounce on my cock love. Ride me…fucking take your pleasure. Take out your frustrations on me.” He took your lips in a bruising kiss again, his hips fucking up into you quickly and loving the way you clenched around him.

“God this pussy was made for me…you like this love? You’re taking my cock so well I- I’m not gonna last much longer!” He took a few steps forward before you felt your back hit the wall, almost screaming when you felt his nimble fingers rub your clit.

“Oh fuck Oh Seb oh gaahd I- don’t stop…fucking don’t stop.” He kissed you again, this time out of fear because he knew he’d get fired as soon as his boss found out what he was doing. With a few more thrusts, he had you at the brink of pleasure and just when he pushed back a little harder, he felt your legs shaking, silencing your release with his tongue licking your own. Seconds later, he came with a cry, growling and swearing because he wanted the pleasure to last for as long as possible.

When it all became too much, he stopped and walked back on wobbly legs, sitting down on the chair and keeping you flush against him.

“We can scratch that off our list baby.” You whispered in his ears, laughing when he winced and told you to stop laughing because of his sensitive he was.

“You’re lucky the manager remembered me.”

“Oh come on you filmed Destroyer like two months ago.”

“I thought I already came?” Yeah alright, he deserved that shoulder punch.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #that haircut #that haircut smut #that haircut masterlist

[mildly-incoherent-ramblings]

Alturas

Derived From, And An Offshoot Of “The Weekend In The Country” Writing Prompt, Given By Adam Gnade. 

A Preface: This story is awful. I have tried to work through this experience for years. This is a work of semi-fiction I suppose, but most of this really did happen, and you can guess which character is based on me pretty easily. I do not condone ANY of the actions depicted here. Please, care for your animal friends, and your elderly family, and if you cannot, find help for them. Good fucking god find some help and fucking save them. Do everything in your power. I did not sleep a full night’s sleep for months after what I saw that weekend.

CW: animal abuse, animal neglect, self neglect, dementia, guns, gunfire, themes of transphobia/homophobia, domestic abuse, toxic family dynamics, misogyny, vivid sensory descriptions of these things.

Part 1: Knuckle Bones

The drive itself was not bad. There was felt a certain nostalgia for many trips down south to San Diego to visit my great aunt with the family when we were children, or to the north to see the snow in the winter. Dad got lost for a little while, but he refused to admit it, he just angrily grumbled to himself and yelled to the backseat if anyone made a noise that broke his concentration. We rode through miles of outstretched quiet roads interrupted by the occasional rest area, and only stopped briefly at points for food and gas, and to rotate who got to sit in the front seat. On freeways and then off of them and up into the endless hills, long winding roads that almost felt like going in circles we drove, all of us anticipating the destination. We were going to visit grandma and grandpa, my Dad’s stepmom and father. They lived on a little farm out in Alturas.

Alturas is a small town nestled up in the rightmost corner of California, bordered both by Nevada to the east and Oregon to the north.  When we finally arrived there, the first thing I noticed were the hot air balloons. I had never seen them in person before. Floating out toward the horizon and above us and all around were hundreds of these drifting along, wicker baskets and all. Being mostly a city kid, I had almost forgotten they even existed. Peacefully scattered near and far in an expanse of clear blue sky I saw them; big beautiful ones with complex designs in an array of bright colors; mostly red and yellow with splotches of cyan and green, bits of neon pink. They reminded me of printer cartridges or SMPTE bars on a TV screen. I fixated on them as we rode up onto the main street of the town.

We stopped at a diner for breakfast, and the realization hit me that I was with my family and in a moderately conservative area. I would have no choice but to act as a woman here, I would not be given another option. I’d have to try my best to blend at least. Dressed in a baggy T-shirt and jeans, and a baseball cap backwards like some 90′s mall bro troupe, one could say that alone was a dead giveaway. But to these people, and to my family at the time, I was a dyke at best. At worst... lets not get into it.

We ate breakfast at this little place, dusty and kind of worn down, white walls yellowed over the years with tacky décor displayed upon them. The Don’t-Tread-On-Me flag hung up in the corner made me very nervous. Dad and my brother didn’t notice, but the old folks at the table next to us, and the truckers on the other side of the room, and the CHP officers grouped together at the bar shot daggers in my general direction, some of them holding their glare on me like snipers aiming for my head from the top of a building. I tried to eat quickly and eat well, especially since I hadn’t had anything that day except for gas station coffee and a pack of hostess mini donuts several hours before. I ate like I eat, which can be stereotyped as like how a man eats. At one point my brother said I wasn’t being polite, even though his table manners were about as bad, and the reason why he felt it different for me need not be spoken. Loud and clear.

My brother had a really hard time accepting my transition. Same with Dad. Neither will admit to it now but they both were cruel to me often, and for a while hoped they could just disregard this aspect of me and force me back into the box of womanhood until I gave up. When I first came out my brother he offered me a pair of jeans he didn’t wear anymore and asked me if I needed any advice on good cologne to wear, needed any razors, etc. This enthusiasm wouldn’t last. The next time he wanted money from me, or my weed, or something of mine he could sell, or someone he could point his anger toward, he would weaponize my former femininity against me and revert back to the same misogynistic behavior I had always known him to engage in. I was a woman again when he wanted me to be one, and I had no choice in this matter. This would go on for years. He still to this day has a deep subconscious hate for women, but thankfully and in despite of how sickening these implications are I have escaped this form of mistreatment after starting testosterone.

My Dad was a bit more open, he just didn’t know how to navigate it. He wanted to allow my brother to “have his own opinion” and opted to avoid discussion of it as much as possible. He would later learn that when it comes to something like this, there are no SIDES, there is either upholding the human need to live authentically or deny that need no matter how negatively this affected me and others like me. These days, he proudly supports me and is kind to the trans people in his neighborhood, and would like very much to take his kids to pride once covid is contained and its safe to attend large events again. He got better. Thank fucking god he got better.

We checked into an Inn down the road, got out and stretched our legs. My brother and I immediately went to go smoke a joint. We hid around the back of the building hoping Dad wouldn’t notice, but apparently we stank up the whole area and came back to him seething with anger. He sparked a cigarette, tried to calm down, and we unloaded our belongings from the car in silence. Then it was time to head to the farm. 

A few miles out from town we drove through the acres of desolate farmland down a dirt and gravel road that seemed to go on forever. I didn’t recognize the area until we started pulling into the driveway to their little house. Dad was swearing and smacking his steering wheel, cursing no one in particular but frustrated at how the gravel would scratch the paint on his car. We were, though we did try to blend in, hilariously obvious city people.

I recognized the shapes first, the house, the big looming tree on the right side, the wire fences surrounding the property, the rusty old truck. I had only been here as a kindergartener so my exact recollection of this place was fuzzy, but I had fond memories of the animals and how happy grandma and grandpa were to see me. I felt some excitement to return to this place that I always felt to be so welcoming, warm and filled with love. Then we got closer.

The first thing I noticed were the dogs. Two gigantic rabid pitbulls, one chained to the tree in the yard and one chained to a fence post just to the side of the house behind him. They were both aggressively barking and pulling on their chains trying to get to our car, foaming at the mouths and vicious as hell. I am cautious to describe this because I am aware of a certain stigma around pitbulls and their commonly misunderstood demeanor, and I will add that I have never known any dog of this breed to be cruel in any way by nature. But these dogs, they were not aggressive out of any sort of inherent violence and hatred, they were scared. They wanted to escape. The felt us to be a threat. Their paws were caked in shit and mud, mucus leaking from their eyes and matts in their fur. There were big festering wounds on the side of the dog nearest the truck as though he was bitten by something. Before him, the remains of a cat who had been caught and torn to shreds lay splayed open and rotting in the summer heat, the carcass filled with maggots. Bits of the poor things insides were scattered around the yard.

I turned my eyes over toward the house. The building itself had deteriorated significantly. The paint was peeling and chipped. Rotting wood was visible underneath all covered in a thick, black mold. The entire yard was littered with trash; rusty old cans and plastic bags, rotting apple cores, some unidentifiable mounds of what I can only assume had once been food waste. Weeds overgrew dusty and dry, and the front porch itself was falling away barely keeping its shape. To the left of it, the garage was wide open and I could see the stacks upon stacks of busted furniture, rusted metal piping, lengths of barbed wire wrapped in bundles and all manner of poorly kept junk haphazardly packed against the inner side wall.

My father’s eyes went wide as we all sat in silence, shocked at the appearance of what was apparently the home his mom and dad had been living in for the last few decades, and just how much the state of this place had declined since our last visit. He held his fist to his mouth, clenched so tight you could see his knuckle bones through his skin. Pushing back tears, he tried his best to shake the face of disgust and horror from himself before cautiously opening the door. Under his breath, my brother uttered the phrase “what the fuck,” which immediately resulted in dad turning toward the back seat angrily and slamming his fist on the middle console, growling at him to shut the fuck up through clenched teeth. The spray of his spit fell on our faces. His expression had shifted to be dramatically similar to the dogs. Anger and defensiveness as a secondary reaction to an underlying feeling of danger, and a desire to escape the inevitable. I have nightmares of this face. 

Just then grandpa came hobbling out from the garage clutching a 12 gauge shotgun, screaming for grandma that they had burglars on the premises and commanding us to leave. He pointed it upward and haphazardly fired a warning shot which went straight through the roof of the garage and aimed the smoking barrel directly at us. All three of us had our hands up instantly. Grandma came hobbling out of the house pulling through the dirt in her walker as quickly as she could, yelling for him to stop.

“Garland, that’s your fucking SON. And the grandchildren! They’ve come to visit, we just discussed this earlier this morning FOR FUCKS SAKE GARLAND PUT IT DOWN!” She grabbed his arm and he froze, the tension in his shoulders dropped. He lowered his weapon, staring at us puzzled as he processed the situation.

“ANDREW?” He yelled. “ANDREW IS THAT YOU SON?”

“Yes, Dad. Its us. Me and the kids.” he returned. He was shaking so much in the front seat I could feel it from the back. He slowly lowered his hands to his lap, my brother and I frozen in shock. 

(part 2 coming soon)

#horror #traumaposting #semi-fiction #writing prompt #this is not a nice story #animal cruelty #mental illness #dementia #desolate #hoarding #small town #transphobia #fear #dead cats #horrible #nightmare #trauma #sickness #neglect #dilapidated

[bountyofbeads]

AP-NORC poll: Solid support for Trump impeachment probe

https://apnews.com/33d7058e56c745819fc110b191c7a568

🍂🦃🍁🍎🍂🦃🍁🍎🍂🦃🍁

AP-NORC poll: Solid support for Trump impeachment probe

By HANNAH FINGERHUT and JILL COLVIN | Published November 1, 2019 9:25 AM ET | AP | Posted November 1, 2019 | VIDEO |

WASHINGTON (AP) — More Americans approve of the impeachment investigation into President Donald Trump than disapprove of it, though only about a third say the inquiry should be a top priority for Congress, according to a new poll from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research.

That solid, if measured, support serves as a warning sign for Trump's White House and reelection campaign, which have insisted that pursuing impeachment will end up being a vulnerability for Democrats heading into 2020.

But the findings present some red flags for Democrats, too: More people say House members are motivated mainly by politics rather than by duty as they investigate the Republican president's dealings with Ukraine and whether he abused his office or compromised national security when he tried to pressure the country to dig up dirt on a political rival.

And assessments of the president's performance generally have remained remarkably stable even as the investigation has unfolded at a rapid clip.

Overall, 47% said they support the impeachment inquiry, while 38% disapprove. Like most assessments of Trump and Washington, views of impeachment are starkly polarized.

A vast majority of Democrats approve of the inquiry, including 68% who strongly approve.

Among them is Sandra Shrewsbury, 70, who lives in Greencastle, Indiana. She said that Trump's impeachment is long overdue.

"I am really concerned about our country if this does not stop," she said of Trump's time in office.

She voiced concerns that Trump doesn't have the temperament to be the nation's commander in chief and is doing serious damage to the country's standing.

She was relieved, she said, that after months of hemming and hawing, impeachment proceedings were finally underway.

"I was getting very frustrated with Congress and those investigating because I felt like they were just dragging their heels," she said. "I wish they'd stop worrying about getting reelected themselves and get down to the business they're supposed to be doing. ... We pay them to do this job."

"They should have done it a long time, a way long time ago," agreed Monica Galindo, 32, who lives in Camilla, Georgia.

It's another story among Republicans, who overwhelmingly disapprove of the inquiry, including 67% who do so strongly.

"I think its garbage," said Sara Palmer, 42, a staunch Trump supporter who lives in Pocatello, Idaho, and accused Democrats of wasting time and money trying to take down Trump when there are far more important things they should be doing for the country.

"I mean come on!" she said. "There's nothing there. ... He didn't do anything wrong."

That's a sentiment shared by a majority, 64%, of Republicans.

Yet even among members of Trump's party, a modest share think he did do something wrong. About a quarter, 28%, think he did something unethical, while 8% think he broke the law.

The public overall has mixed views of whether the president committed any wrongdoing. Most say his interactions with the president of Ukraine were at least unethical. That includes about 4 in 10 who think he did something illegal. About another 3 in 10 think what he did was unethical but not illegal.

Trump has insisted he did nothing wrong.

But nearly all Democrats think the president crossed a line, including roughly 7 in 10 who say that he broke the law.

Still, not all Democrats think the inquiry should be Congress' top priority. A quarter think it should be an important but lower priority, and 1 in 10 say it should not be an important priority at all. And while most Democrats support the inquiry, 27% think the House is acting mainly on political motivation to challenge Trump's presidency.

Even as Americans express strong opinions about the inquiry, many have mixed assessments of their own understanding of the impeachment process. Just about 3 in 10 say they understand the process very or extremely well, while roughly as many describe their understanding as limited.

Skylar Iske, 22, who voted for Trump in 2016 but has grown weary of him, said it was difficult for him to oppose the process given his limited awareness of the case for impeachment.

"I don't feel like he should be. But then again, I also don't know what they're investigating," said Iske, who lives outside Des Moines, Iowa.

And there are rare areas where Republicans and Democrats agree.

Majorities across party lines think it was inappropriate for Hunter Biden, former Vice President Joe Biden's son, to serve on the board of a Ukrainian energy company while his father was vice president, with only about a quarter of Americans saying it was appropriate.

Roughly 7 in 10, including 6 in 10 Democrats, say it wasn't.

___

The AP-NORC poll of 1,075 adults was conducted Oct. 24-28 using a sample drawn from NORC's probability-based AmeriSpeak Panel, which is designed to be representative of the U.S. population. The margin of sampling error for all respondents is plus or minus 4.1 percentage points. Respondents were first selected randomly using address-based sampling methods and later were interviewed online or by phone.

___

Online:

AP-NORC Center: http://www.apnorc.org/

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Ex-Trump aide confirms Ukraine aid was linked to Biden probe

By LISA MASCARO, ZEKE J. MILLER and DEB RIECHMANN | Published November 1, 2019 | AP | Posted November 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON (AP) — A former top White House official confirmed that military aid to Ukraine was held up by President Donald Trump's demand for the ally to investigate Democrats and Joe Biden but testified that there's nothing illegal, in his view, about the quid pro quo at the center of the Democrat-led impeachment inquiry.

Tim Morrison, who stepped down from the National Security Council the day before his Thursday testimony, was the first White House political appointee to appear and spent more than eight hours behind closed doors with House investigators.

"I want to be clear, I was not concerned that anything illegal was discussed," Morrison said about a pivotal phone call between Trump and the Ukraine president, according to prepared remarks obtained by The Associated Press.

Late Thursday, Trump tweeted about Morrison's comment that no law was broken: "Thank you to Tim Morrison for your honesty."

But Morrison also confirmed what diplomat William Taylor told investigators in earlier testimony — that Morrison had a "sinking feeling" when he learned that Trump was asking the Ukrainians to publicly announce an investigation of Biden and the Democrats, even as the Republican president denied it was a quid pro quo.

"I can confirm," Morrison wrote, that the substance of the diplomat's testimony "is accurate."

Tim Morrison's opening statement from his testimony in the impeachment inquiry of President Donald Trump.

Morrison told investigators that he and Taylor did not realize the money was being withheld for the investigation of Burisma, the gas company connected to Biden, until a conversation with European Union Ambassador Gordon Sondland in September.

"Taylor and I had no reason to believe that the release of the security sector assistance might be conditioned on a public statement reopening the Burisma investigation until my Sept. 1, 2019, conversation with Ambassador Sondland," Morrison testified.

A defense hawk, Morrison was the National Security Council's top adviser for Russian and European affairs until he stepped down Wednesday. He was brought into the White House by John Bolton, the former national security adviser who was critical of Trump's Ukraine policy and the back-channel diplomacy being run by the Republican president's personal lawyer Rudy Giuliani.

Morrison testified that he was told by his predecessor, Fiona Hill, who also testified in the impeachment inquiry, that Giuliani and Sondland were trying to get Ukraine President Voldymyr Zelenskiy "to reopen investigations into Burisma."

Bolton resigned in September, and Morrison had similarly been expected to leave for some time. "I do not want anyone to think there is a connection between my testimony today and my pending departure," he wrote.

As a national security adviser, Morrison was among those listening to Trump's July 25 call with the Ukrainian leader that sparked a whistleblower's complaint and the impeachment inquiry.

He said he asked NSC lawyers to review the call because he had three concerns if word of the discussion leaked: how it would play out in polarized Washington, how it would affect bipartisan support in Congress for Ukraine and how it would affect U.S.-Ukraine relations.

Republican lawmakers portrayed the opening remarks of the longtime GOP policy operative as shifting the debate favorably toward Trump. They said Morrison's opening statement contradicted other witnesses, but they did not provide details.

"It's a very compelling witness today that is giving testimony that contradicts some of the testimony we heard," said Rep. Mark Meadows, R-N.C.

Another Republican, Rep. Chip Roy of Texas, said, "When you all see what he had to say, it will be interesting."

Democrats, though, have said the witnesses are largely corroborating the central argument of the impeachment inquiry — that aid to Ukraine was being withheld as the Trump administration pushed the young democracy for the political investigation.

It is against the law to seek or receive assistance of value from a foreign entity in a U.S. election. Trump says he did nothing wrong.

Morrison had been featured prominently in previous testimony from Taylor, the top diplomat in Ukraine who testified before House investigators last week.

It was Morrison who first alerted Taylor to concerns over Trump's phone call with the Ukraine president.

In fact, Morrison's name appeared more than a dozen times in testimony by Taylor, who told impeachment investigators that Trump was withholding military aid unless Zelenskiy went public with a promise to investigate Biden and Burisma, where Biden's son served on the board.

Taylor's testimony contradicted Trump's repeated denials that there was any quid pro quo.

Morrison testified Thursday that he initially knew so little about Burisma when he took over for Hill in July that he had to do a Google search but quickly understood the Biden connection.

He did clarify one difference from Taylor's recollection of events: He said it was his understanding that "it could be sufficient" if the new Ukraine prosecutor general, rather than Zelenskiy himself, committed "to pursue the Burisma investigation."

As the security funds for Ukraine were being withheld, Morrison told the diplomat, "President doesn't want to provide any assistance at all."

Their concerns deepened when Morrison relayed on Sept. 7 the conversation he had with Sondland that gave him that "sinking feeling."

In it, Sondland explained that Trump said he was not asking for a quid pro quo but insisted that Zelenskiy "go to a microphone and say he is opening investigations of Biden and 2016 election interference," Taylor testified last week.

Morrison told Bolton and the NSC lawyers of this call between Trump and Sondland, according to Taylor's testimony.

The testimony came as the House took its first formal vote on the impeachment inquiry Thursday, approving the process ahead for public hearings and possible drafting of articles of impeachment.

The 232-196 tally split along partisan lines, with all but two voting Democrats supporting the package and all voting Republicans opposed. One Republican-turned-independent joined Democrats in approving the package.

Democrats said they will largely follow rules used during the impeachment proceedings of Presidents Richard Nixon and Bill Clinton. Trump and Republicans dismiss the process as a sham, and the president has directed his staff not to testify in the House inquiry.

"This is a very solemn day in the history of the country when the president's misconduct has compelled us to move forward with an impeachment inquiry," said Rep. Adam Schiff, D-Calif., the chairman of the Intelligence Committee leading the probe.

The spotlight has been on Morrison since August, when a government whistleblower said multiple U.S. officials had said Trump was "using the power of his office to solicit interference from a foreign country in the 2020 U.S. election."

Morrison, formerly a longtime Republican staffer at the House Armed Services Committee, has been bouncing around Washington in GOP positions for two decades.

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Baghdadi’s death could mean more American withdrawal in the Middle East. That’s bad news.

By Fareed Zakaria | Published October 31 at 7:32 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted November 1, 2019 |

The death of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi is a real victory in the war against terrorist groups. The Islamic State is one of the most cruel and dangerous organizations to have roamed the planet in a long time, and its leader’s death damages it badly. But as recent protests from Iraq to Lebanon have shown, the Middle East remains a troubled region. And if Baghdadi’s death produces a greater U.S. disengagement from the Middle East, then things could spiral downward even faster.

After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the world suddenly focused its gaze on the Middle East and recognized one seminal fact: The region was almost unique in having made no significant political, economic or social progress in decades. Throughout the world, communism had collapsed, juntas had disappeared, and economic growth had transformed developing countries. But in the Middle East, time had stood still, and even moved backward on some measures. This stagnation, many believed, was the atmosphere in which Islamic extremism and terrorism were able to grow and spread.

In 2002, the United Nations released a report on Arab development, written and researched by Arab experts, that laid bare the region’s profound challenges. It identified three deficits that needed to be overcome to bring the region into the modern world: deficits of freedom, female empowerment and knowledge. It spoke more broadly of the lack of economic opportunity, political rights and social progress in much of the Arab world. Governments around the world resolved that these were the crucial issues to address in the Middle East.

In the following years, gains were made in several areas, such as life expectancy, literacy and the status of women. But as the U.N.’s most recent Arab Human Development Report points out, “Since 2010 nearly all Arab countries have slowed or reversed their average annual human development advances.” This despite the fact that the Arab Spring of 2011 seemed to highlight the need for greater reforms.

Why? Partly because the Arab Spring was largely a failure. Only Tunisia transitioned to democratic rule. Egypt saw the return of repressive rule; Syria experienced a civil war and the bloody resurgence of the Assad regime; and Yemen and Libya are in free fall. But even beyond these breakdowns, the region continues to face daunting challenges. The demographics remain grim. The Middle East has the highest youth unemployment rate in the world. The economic model remains highly inefficient, expensive and unsustainable, with governments employing a huge number of people and providing massive subsidies for food and energy.

Efforts at reform have had mixed results. In Egypt and Saudi Arabia, there has been some success. But it’s difficult for countries so dependent on state spending to jump-start the private sector, particularly when their economies are reeling from low oil prices. In Egypt, the government employs around 20 percent of the labor force. In Algeria, it’s almost 40 percent; in Saudi Arabia, more than 65 percent. In cases where the state has tried to step back, the private sector has struggled to step in. Many countries have attempted to cut subsidies, triggering protests that have often been met with repression.

The hope behind the U.N.’s 2002 report was that economic and social reforms would become easier if these countries opened themselves up politically. Political openness would produce popular, elected leaders who would drain away support for Islamic extremists. This was the appealing idea behind President George W. Bush’s freedom agenda, which was rooted in some serious thinking about the region. But little of it worked. Political openings mostly led to insurgencies, sectarian violence, civil wars and crackdowns. Places such as Lebanon and Jordan that have maintained their unity and stability remain fragile, and very little reform has taken place.

Perhaps the most important result of the enduring turmoil in the Arab world has been the United States’ withdrawal from the region. Starting during the second term of the George W. Bush administration, through Barack Obama’s presidency and now into Donald Trump’s, the United States has gotten fed up with the Middle East. It now seems content to rid itself of responsibility for this messy, unstable part of the world. When Trump says he wants to end the forever wars, large parts of the public agree.

So we see an emerging post-American Middle East, with various regional powers jockeying for influence, mainly Saudi Arabia and Iran, along with others such as Turkey and Israel, pushing their own interests. These are uncharted waters in a time of great upheaval — Syria has produced more than 5 million refugees , and Yemen faces the world’s worst humanitarian crisis. The Islamic State has been decapitated and is scattered for now, but the demons that have fueled such terror — stagnation, repression, despair — continue

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U.S. judge to reconsider house arrest for Giuliani associate charged in Ukraine-linked case

By Brendan Pierson | Published November 1, 2019, 7:04 AM ET | Reuters | Posted November 1, 2019 |

NEW YORK (Reuters) - A judge is expected on Friday to consider whether an associate of U.S. President Donald Trump’s personal lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, should remain under house arrest while he awaits trial on charges of illegally funneling money to a pro-Trump election committee and other politicians.

A lawyer for Igor Fruman, a Belarus-born businessman, is scheduled to appear before U.S. District Judge Paul Oetken in Manhattan to argue that his client should be allowed to move more freely. Fruman, who lives in Florida, is not expected to appear.

Fruman was arrested on Oct. 9 at a Washington-area airport along with another Florida businessman, Ukraine-born Lev Parnas. Authorities said the two were preparing to leave the United States with one-way plane tickets.

Fruman’s lawyer, Todd Blanche, said in a court filing on Wednesday that Fruman should not be subject to house arrest or electronic GPS monitoring as conditions of his bail, calling them “onerous.”

He argued that Fruman posed no risk of fleeing the country, noting that he had already agreed to post a $1 million bond secured by his home and to have his travel restricted.

Federal prosecutors have accused Parnas and Fruman of using a shell company to donate $325,000 to the pro-Trump committee, America First Action, and of raising money for former U.S. Representative Pete Sessions of Texas as part of an effort to have the president remove the U.S. ambassador to Ukraine.

That effort was carried out at the request of at least one Ukrainian official, prosecutors said. Trump ordered the ambassador, Marie Yovanovitch, removed in May.

The case is unfolding amid an impeachment inquiry by the Democratic-led U.S. House of Representatives, centered on Republican Trump’s request in a July phone call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy to investigate former U.S. Vice President Joe Biden, a contender for the 2020 Democratic presidential nomination.

Yovanovitch testified in the inquiry that Trump had ousted her from her position based on “unfounded and false claims” after she had come under attack by Giuliani. Giuliani has said Parnas and Fruman helped his efforts in Ukraine to investigate Biden and denies wrongdoing.

Parnas and Fruman are also charged with taking part in a scheme with two other men to funnel money from an unnamed Russian businessman to political candidates in several states to help obtain permits needed for a proposed marijuana business, which never materialized. U.S. law prohibits foreign donations to political campaigns.

Parnas, Fruman and the other two men, Andrey Kukushkin and David Correia, have all pleaded not guilty to the charges.

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Trump may read summary of Ukraine call in 'fireside chat': interview ( Trump is NO Roosevelt, for that matter, he's like no other president in U.S. History. No staging, photoshopping, TV production can change the fact that Trump, using his office, asked 3 foreign governments to interfere in our election by asking for dirt on his opponent.)

By Doina Chiacu | Published November 1, 2019, 8:09 AM ET | Reuters | Posted November 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - “READ THE TRANSCRIPT!” U.S. President Donald Trump exhorts regularly on Twitter, referring to a telephone call with Ukraine’s president that led to an impeachment inquiry. Now he is threatening to do just that - on live television.

Trump told the Washington Examiner he would not cooperate with congressional impeachment proceedings and might read out loud a transcript of a July 25 call in which Trump asks President Volodymyr Zelenskiy to investigate a domestic political rival.

“This is over a phone call that is a good call,” Trump told the Examiner in an interview. “At some point, I’m going to sit down, perhaps as a fireside chat on live television, and I will read the transcript of the call, because people have to hear it. When you read it, it’s a straight call.”

Trump’s reference to the fireside chat recalled the informal evening radio addresses President Franklin D. Roosevelt used to reassure Americans facing hardships during the Great Depression - a far cry from a U.S. president defending himself against impeachment.

The Trump administration in September released a detailed summary of the 30-minute call - not a precise transcript - based on notes taken by aides, as Democrats in the House of Representatives began looking into Trump’s call following a whistleblower complaint.

The House, which is controlled by Democrats, approved rules on Thursday for the next, more public, stage in the inquiry into the Republican president’s attempt to have Ukraine investigate a domestic political rival.

The inquiry centers on whether Trump solicited foreign interference and aid in a U.S. election, which federal law prohibits. Democrats are also investigating whether Trump withheld $391 million in American aid to vulnerable Ukraine, who faced a military threat from Russian-backed separatists, as leverage to get Zelenskiy to announce an investigation into former Vice President Joe Biden and his son Hunter.

Biden is a leading contender for the Democratic nomination to face Trump in the November 2020 presidential election. Hunter Biden sat on the board of a Ukrainian energy company. There has been no evidence of wrongdoing on their part.

Current and former Trump administration officials have testified behind closed doors that the White House went outside normal diplomatic channels to pressure Zelenskiy to investigate the Bidens.

Trump has insisted he did nothing wrong. He said his administration would continue to not honor document requests and subpoenas.

He told the Examiner he would fight back with a defense of the Ukraine call and use his well-honed art of the slogan, offering T-shirts emblazoned with “Read the transcript.”

Exclusive: U.S. withholding $105 million in security aid for Lebanon - sources

By Patricia Zengerle, Mike Stone | Published October 31, 2019, 6:17 PM ET | Reuters | Posted November 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. President Donald Trump’s administration is withholding $105 million in security aid for Lebanon, two U.S. officials said on Thursday, two days after the resignation of Lebanese Prime Minister Saad al-Hariri.

The State Department told Congress on Thursday that the White House budget office and National Security Council had decided to withhold the foreign military assistance, the two officials said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

The officials did not say why the aid was blocked. One of the sources said the State Department did not give Congress a reason for the decision.

The State Department declined to comment.

The administration had sought approval for the assistance starting in May, arguing that it was crucial for Lebanon, an important U.S. partner in the volatile Middle East, to be able to protect its borders. The aid included night vision goggles and weapons used in border security.

But Washington has also repeatedly expressed concern over the growing role in the Beirut government of Hezbollah, the armed Shi’ite group backed by Iran and listed as a terrorist organization by the United States.

Following Hariri’s resignation on Tuesday amid huge protests against the ruling elite, U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo urged Lebanon’s political leaders to help form a new government responsive to the needs of its people and called for an end to endemic corruption.

One U.S. official told Reuters he believed the security assistance was necessary for Lebanon, as it struggles with instability not just within its own government but in a turbulent region and houses thousands of refugees from war in neighboring Syria.

The official said it was especially important to strengthen Lebanon’s military, which he deemed one of the most capable institutions in the country now, largely because of support from Washington.

The official said drawing aid away from Lebanon could pave the way for Russia to move in. Russia has expanded its influence in Syria since Trump announced he was withdrawing U.S. forces from the northeastern part of the country.

Lebanon has been arguing with foreign donors over international aid for months. Before he resigned, Hariri failed to convince foreign donors to release $11 billion in assistance pledged at a Paris conference last year.

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North Korea, emboldened by Trump peril and Chinese allies, tries harder line

By Josh Smith, Hyonhee Shin | Published November 1, 2019, 2:44 AM ET | Reuters | Posted November 1, 2019 | VIDEO |

SEOUL (Reuters) - Successful sanctions evasion, economic lifelines from China and U.S. President Donald Trump’s impeachment woes may be among the factors that have emboldened North Korea in nuclear negotiations, analysts and officials say.

Both Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong Un continue to play up the personal rapport they say they developed during three face-to-face meetings. But North Korea has said in recent days that it is losing patience, giving the United States until the end of the year to change its negotiating stance.

North Korea has tested the limits of engagement with a string of missile launches, including two fired on Thursday, and experts warn that the lack of a concrete arms control agreement has allowed the country to continue producing nuclear weapons.

The missile tests have practical value for the North Korean military’s efforts to modernize its arsenal. But they also underscore Pyongyang’s increasingly belligerent position in the face of what it sees as an inflexible and hostile United States.

In a best-case scenario, Thursday’s launch was an attempt to make the December deadline feel more urgent to the U.S., said Andray Abrahamian, a visiting scholar with George Mason University Korea.

“Still, I think that Pyongyang has concluded they can do without a deal if they must,” he said. “The sad thing is I think that will lock in the current state of affairs, with its downsides for all stakeholders, for years to come.”

‘NOT SO PROMISING’

Trump’s reelection battle and the impeachment inquiry against him may have led Kim to overestimate North Korea’s leverage, said one diplomat in Seoul, who spoke on condition of anonymity because of the sensitivity of the negotiations.

“It looks like Kim has a serious delusion that he is capable of helping or ruining Trump’s reelection, but no one in Pyongyang can stand up to the unerring leader and say he’s mistaken – you don’t want to be dead,” the diplomat told Reuters. “And Trump is all Kim has. In order to denuclearize, Kim needs confidence that Trump will be reelected.”

The Americans, meanwhile, came into working-level talks on Oct. 5 in Stockholm with the position that North Korea must completely and irreversibly dismantle its nuclear program, and pushed for a moratorium on weapons tests as part of a first step, the diplomat said.

Although some media reports said the United States planned to propose temporarily lifting sanctions on coal and textile exports, the diplomat said the talks in Stockholm did not get into details.

“The U.S. can’t take the risk of easing sanctions first, having already given a lot of gifts to Kim without substantial progress on denuclearization, including summits,” the diplomat said. “Sanctions are basically all they have to press North Korea.”

When American negotiators tried to set a time for another round of talks, North Korean officials were uncooperative, the diplomat said.

“The prospects are not so promising,” the diplomat added.

ECONOMIC LIFELINES

Although United Nations sanctions remain in place, some trade with China appears to have increased, and political relations between Beijing and Pyongyang have improved dramatically.

Kim and China’s president, Xi Jinping, have met several times, and the two countries exchange delegations of government officials.

A huge influx of Chinese tourists over the past year appears to be a major source of cash for the North Korean government, according to research by Korea Risk Group, which monitors North Korea.

Korea Risk Group chief executive Chad O’Carroll estimates as many as 350,000 Chinese tourists have visited this year, potentially netting the North Korean authorities up to $175 million.

That’s more than North Korea was making from the Kaesong Industrial Complex - jointly operated with South Korea before it was shuttered in 2016 - and is almost certainly part of why Kim is showing less interest in U.S. proposals, O’Carroll said.

The United States and South Korea suggested tourism, rather than resuming the Kaesong operation, as a potential concession to the North after the failed second summit between Trump and Kim in Hanoi in February, the Seoul-based diplomat said.

“That’s based on the consensus that any sanctions relief should be immediately reversible, but once the 120-plus factories are put back in, it’s difficult to shut it down and pull them out again,” the diplomat said.

The United Nations, meanwhile, has reported that North Korea is successfully evading many of the sanctions, and that the government may have stolen as much as $2 billion through cyber attacks.

“Stockholm suggests Pyongyang is also fine with their ‘Chinese backstop’, i.e. whatever agreement they have on lax sanctions enforcement,” Abrahamian said. “I worry that instead of trying to get a deal, they think Trump will be more desperate for a win than he actually is and will miss the window.”

INTERNAL DEBATE

Trump and Kim’s second meeting abruptly fell apart when both sides refused to budge, with North Korea demanding wide-ranging sanctions relief and the Americans insisting on concrete disarmament steps.

“It’s very clear that the failure of Hanoi triggered a debate inside North Korea about whether Kim’s path - moving down the road to denuclearization - was the right way to go,” said Joel Wit, a senior fellow at the Stimson Center in Washington.

For now, North Korea seems inclined to avoid engaging further with the United States or South Korea until they make more concessions, Wit said.

Other analysts are skeptical that Kim will ever give up his hard-won nuclear weapons, but say the opportunity for even a limited arms control deal may be slipping away.

“North Korea appears to be interested only in a deal under its terms to the exact letter,” said Duyeon Kim, with the Washington-based Center for a New American Security.

“Pyongyang is able to demand more, be tougher, and raise the bar because its confidence comes from qualitative and quantitative advancements in its nuclear weapons,” Kim said.

#trump scandals #trumpism #president donald trump #trump administration #ivanka trump #trump #trump news #trump cult #trump china #trump crime family #trump corruption #trump crime syndicate #trump country #north korea #impeach trump #impeachment inquiry now #impeachthemf #impeachtrump #impeach45 #need to impeach #national news #national security #nationalsecurity #national intelligence #national intelligence agency #house intelligence committee #u.s. military #u.s. news #politics #us politics

[silvertalkzones]

Death Benefits: Part III

Chapter 3

I sat in Slick’s souped-up sports car, feeling mildly apprehensive. On the way over, I started to make conversation, but really had nothing to say. Recently, I’ve found the whole business draining, especially after being told that I’m in the wrong profession by way of my being honest. Oh well. Game face is on. I’m going to sell these poor, unhealthy, old and unsuspecting people some “coverage.”  We arrived, and standing on the front porch with me, Slick told me to button the top button of my coat “to look more professional.” Sigh.

The middle-aged man who answered seemed to recognize Slick immediately. Had I met him before? Who can tell. All old white people look the same to me. We were invited in and escorted to the kitchen table. There were four seats there and Slick asked, “Where does the boss sit?”

“My wife’s upstairs,” he answered. We both gave polite, if forced laughs. I was going to sit, but waited politely until offered a chair, eventually flanking the couple by sitting at either end of the table. The wife came down, and I stood to greet her and shake her hand.

Sitting now after exchanging pleasantries, she began our conversation with a question: “What the fuck happened?”

Slick immediately took over. “There were some complications…” he started.

“Complications my ass!” she said angrily. “I thought you were professionals!” Her bony face was a mask of accusation.

“How were we supposed to know that your father owned a firearm?” countered Slick. “That would be covered in the ‘need to know’ column.”

“I thought you could handle it! Besides, it’s just a .22 caliber pea shooter,” she said. “Why didn’t you finish the job?”

“He shot my guy in the foot!” said Slick.

At this point, my neck was getting tired from spinning back and forth between the woman and my manager’s verbal tennis match. I was thoroughly confused, but just kept my mouth shut. Shot in the foot? I couldn’t help but picture the big boot that John-John was wearing this morning, but rather than pursue the thought I was distracted. The husband had a sickened look on his face. I was about to find out why.

“And why did you call my guy?” Slick asked the husband while gesturing to me.

“He called me!” the man insisted. “He told me to call if there were any questions. I just asked for policy values!” he said defensively.

“You were not supposed to talk about it with anyone!” said Slick.

“But when the Caller ID said it was your company, I just assumed,” he said before trailing off. He looked lost at this point, whereas both his wife and my manager were looking at him very angrily. “I… I… I’m sorry,” he managed.

“Not as sorry as I am,” said Slick and pulled out a very large gun with a silencer on it and pointed it at the man. He punctuated his threat by chambering a round in gun. The “click” of the slide was much more effective as an exclamation mark. My mouth dropped open. What kind of sick joke was he playing?

“Hey now!” the man said. “There’s no reason for that!” and he started to push his chair back from the table.

In response, I heard only a very loud bang, followed by the feeling of wet blood splattering on my face.

All in all, I’d say I’ve had better meetings.

I hope he had coverage.

Chapter 4

When you hear a gun shot, it’s not like the movies. “Bang” doesn’t begin to describe the explosive discharge of the mini-cannon that just went off. I pushed back in my chair involuntarily and fell to the floor. Then something strange occurred to me: Slick had a silencer.  Looking up now, I saw John-John holding a steel smoking, massive hand-cannon befitting his size. At first, all I could do was wonder why he was at this meeting. He didn’t run meetings with us, especially initials. Then of course, I realized this was probably not why he was here.  From my vantage point on the floor, I could also see the lifeless body of the husband in an ever-expanding oil slick of blood that looked oddly darker than it does in the movies.

Suddenly, I heard another loud bang, followed quickly by two more. In my horror, John-John joined me on the floor, his eyes wide, he face looking shocked. He appeared to still be breathing, but not for long. “Holy shit!” I yelled eloquently and started back pedaling away from him on my overturned chair. Clear of the table, I could see that JJ hadn’t turned the gun on himself, but rather the wife had produced her own gun and was responsible for the leaks in my Managing Director. Slick did not wait to put two bullets directly between her eyes.

I was paralyzed with terror. This was definitely not covered in objection resolution!  I looked up at the face of my MFS out of habit, hoping for some clue as to what to do next. Without hesitation, he put two more bullets into the wife and turned his gun on me. I was feeling a bit out of the party, being the only living person not armed. Hell, maybe even the dead husband was armed. But at these moments, one’s thoughts compress and regress singularly and to what we can focus upon. I had the most bizarre thought: If I made it through this, I was definitely going to write to my governor about the conceal carry laws in this state. I was interrupted from my reveries, however, when my manager commanded, “Let’s go!”

He was my manager, and more to the point, he had a gun and was a good shot. I obeyed. We began to run with urgency to the front door. I slipped in some blood and fell directly on my face, banging my head painfully on the ground. Because of this, I didn’t hear another gun shot, this time coming from upstairs. There was a tiny-old man with a small gun pointing at the space where I had just been. The bullet intended for me had sailed over my head and directly into my manager (his split of the commission, I suppose). It hit him squarely in the chest and at that moment, I found out that his fancy new vest was, in fact, not fancy enough to be bullet-proof.

Slick returned fire and missed because of his wound. The old man advanced, but with his dying breath, John-John picked up his cannon and shot at the man saying, “This is for my foot!” as the old man fell down the stairs. At this point, I had enough wherewithal to run in a blind panic for the front door – lest I get this Bullet-Flu which seems to be killing everyone around me (Bullet-Flu is an airborne virus). Slick was close behind me as we hit the front door, and it seemed as if all the shooting in the house had ended. I wasn’t going to check. As we ran for his car, he threw me his car keys and shouted “you drive!”

I threw the door open and jumped in. Slick slumped into the passenger seat. I had expected him to look out the window to shoot anyone else following us. I did not expect him to turn the gun on me. Okay. I guess I’m not a chauffeur; I’m a hostage.  I hit the gas on his souped-up sports car.

Unfortunately for me, my manager is close to eight inches taller than me. I had no time to play with the seat, so I just slumped down and slammed on the gas. I was going to pull myself up to the wheel, but never got the chance. Instead, the car slammed into an oak tree at the end of the driveway going nearly forty-five miles per hour. I was would’ve slid completely off the seat, but the deployed air bag stopped me midway.

Slick, however, was not as fortunate as the impact had apparently broken his neck.

I guess he won’t be coming with me to the next meeting.

(to be continued)