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catchyhuh · 6 months

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What sort of hobbies or interests do you imagine the Gang having (outside thievery or arresting said thieves)? And do they influence the way they go about their usual antics, or are they mostly Unrelated to everything else in their lives? :0c

oohhooohoho this is a good one because i have a small handful of actual canonical hobbies/interests that come up occasionally and then i have the ones that solely exist in my mind palace. at least until tms decides to let a random little shrimp from america take the reins on their most longrunning successful franchise anyway,

lupin:

i can’t remember if i mentioned lupin loves puzzles. wait yes i did in the video game list SORRY I’M ALREADY HAVING TROUBLE REMEMBERING WHAT I HAVE AND HAVEN’T GONE OFF ABOUT but yes in canon lupin LOVES puzzles. less like, jigsaw puzzles, more like shapey puzzles. but hell man if you can get him to sit still long enough he might like a jigsaw one just to pass the time

i think he likes cooking. him, jigen and goemon all seem to really Get it. so count this under all of them, they just love yummy food and occasionally the process of making it too

he likes to draw :) somebody has to be behind all the slightly different variants of his little mascot guy. SOMEBODY has to redraw bank floor plans so they can plan out each tiny step of the heist. somebody has to scribble over his own wanted posters to put funny little devil horns on the image CMON now!!

jigen:

only jigen could be in a fucking arcade theater complex and pull out a fucking crossword puzzle. why is this dude honestly trying to speedrun being a grouchy old man before he even turns 40. i mean no hate, no hate to crossword puzzles, they are cool but i’m more of a wordsearch guy. BUT THERE’S OTHER STUFF TO DO JIGEN!! at least he’s not going for sudoku though

very random but i think he might like sewing in a passive sense. with how particular he is about his hat and really ANY clothes on his person, he probably just picked up a needle one day to fix a tear and then was like Huh. this isn't too bad actually. kinda repetitive and calming. and then the others found out and tried to get him to fix all their stuff too SO HALF PLEASANT AND HALF NOT SO PLEASANT

fujiko:

you may think i’m insane but fujiko must genuinely have some sort of fondness for computers and technology. more than she lets on at least, because. how DO you know how to fly every type of aircraft. how DO you know how to crack into almost any computer firewall? how do you know how to isolate a computer virus as it’s ALREADY corrupted HALF OF THE SYSTEM?? this goes beyond job necessity to me she must really have some hidden underlying passion for this stuff

i think it’d be cute if she took up some kinda journaling. i mean god knows she’s not writing about her FEELINGS in that little leather notebook, and she doesn’t really have the time to commit to like, scrapbook shit (even if she had the time, she’s not sentimental like that) but something simple like “this is a list of m&m variants in order of how disgusting to not disgusting they taste to me <3” with little candy stickers and gel pen hearts drawn in. the next page has a bloodstain on it and the only thing written is “dw about that lol”

goemon:

okay i KNOW i’ve pushed the Arts Enjoyer goe agenda before but i recently saw that part 3 production art again of him chilling with the pottery wheel so i must state, once again, goemon LOVES sculpting shit in all forms. chip away at some rock, throw zantetsuken at a block of wood, actually invest in some clay for fucking once, whatever he uses, he’ll make something pretty good. and even if it wasn’t good it’s still a fun hobby for him. keeps his hands loose but precise

oh my god you know what he would love. dominoes. you know when people make those like crazy long domino strings that form a pattern when they’ve all fallen. if anybody here could have the precision and strangely placed patience to do shit like that it’s definitely this guy

zenigata:

going through this list easily and eagerly typing up little funfacts about things i do know they like outside of their. “jobs” and then slowly realizing as i get to zenigata that i... cannot think of anything he. uh. does for fun. damn. he DOES talk about movies a lil bit from time to time, and knowing his mixture of a freakish eye for detail and also missing the most obvious things ever i bet hearing him talk about a movie is twice as fun as actually watching it. i would pay HUNDREDS to hear him try to explain what he thinks of space odyssey to me

it would be-- i have no reasoning for this but it would be so cute and hilarious if he did like. tiny magic tricks. you know? like card appearing out of thin air, coin behind your ear type shit. tiny stuff he figured out on his brief off time. we know lupin can do little stuff like that too but it'd just be hilarious if zenigata, completely unawarely and unintentionally for once, ended up being better than him at some inconsequential shit like making a pair of keys disappear

and i guess in light of recent discoveries they all like golf. apparently. well. no one is perfect

#i really had trouble reading over this again and being like hm. is this actually a possibility or do i just want it to be #but then i remembered its my blog and i can type what i wish!! yippee!#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #asks

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etes-secrecy-post · 7 months

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Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#Onthisday: Nov 5th, 2011

Title: Gang of Killer

I remembered the times when I played GTA series on the famous Sony PS2, particularly "Vice City", "Vice City Stories", and "San Andreas". 🙂🎮🏙️🚔🚘 And yes, I did play a lot (after school) before our sibling's console went out. Ah well, there's always available on PC. However, we won't recommend playing "GTA Trilogy: The Definitive Edition" due to the lack of details and overall awful to play (saved for checkpoints and other features in GTA V). Not even numerous update patches can't save "The Definitive Edition" of GTA. 🙄😒

That's why, I decided to draw Spot as the gangster member (similar to MuruKir, but he was joined to the mafia). Don't worry, his handgun was a custom toy pellet gun, with an empty magazine. (Even though, we all know that pellet guns are harmful to children compared to a real-life firearm).

Spot Speedster - created by ME!

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itispossibleihaveissues · 7 years

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Another Perfect Catastrophe -2

(yes, already, lol)

AUTHOR: Mikimoo PAIRING: JayDick RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Non Consensual drug use, Non Consensual touching, Non Consensual kissing, humour, slight mayhem

SUMMARY: Dick goes undercover as himself in order to catch a gang of international thieves. Jason reluctantly tags along as his long suffering bodyguard. During the ensuing mayhem they get to know each other again and build a few bridges.

Thank you to burkesl17 for the beta!

Notes: An embarrassingly long time ago, the amazing and very, very talented Pentapus invited me to do a reverse bang style exchange, and drew me an amazing prompt. I have no idea how this story was the one that emerged from the many options I had, but such is the creative process I guess! Anyhoo, many thanks to Pentapus for both encouragement and patience, and of course the incredible art! (which will be included at the end of the appropriate chapter)

Chapter 1

It was raining when they landed at Heathrow, and it continued to drizzle in a sad grey mist as their car finally entered the city. It didn't exactly put Jason in a party mood, but at least the hotel was conveniently located. And as fancy as all hell.

Their suit was outrageously opulent of course, with grand furnishings and a layout that was twice the size of Jason's Gotham pad, bigger even than Dick's beat down Bludhaven apartment. The living area was just oozing money and the master bedroom had a huge bed with almost offensively busy wallpaper. Dick seemed thrilled with the ugly swirling pattern and threw himself down on the bed, practically disappearing into the huge pile of pillows.

Jason left him to it and headed over to inspect his adjourning room. To his relief it was slightly more to his taste, less chaotically decorated – more in line with the expensive hotels Bruce favored. For all his many, many faults, Bruce had impeccable taste, in Jason's opinion. Except when it came to women and orphans. How he had raised Dick, a man so completely lacking in personal style he was practically a walking advert for color blindness, was a mystery.

He dumped his case on the bed and inspected what horrors Dick had packed for him; three Captain America T-shirts – funny Dick, real funny. And a Winter Soldier one, which was just rude. The rest of the shirts and pants were reasonable. And the underwear was ridiculous, how he had found every possible variety of Justice League boxers in such a short time was a testament to his inventive ability and vindictive nature.

The pyjamas had little Nightwing symbols on them. Dick clearly thought he was some kind of comedian.

There was a complimentary bottle of champagne on the table in the living room, as well as a brochure for free treatments at the spar and use of the pool and gym. How the other half lived. Although he had enjoyed life at the manor for a few short years he had never really adjusted to the idea of being rich, and displays of excessive wealth got his back up. Why, if you thought nothing of paying $1,000 for a bottle of bubbly, could you not give the same for the homeless kids eking out a living in the Narrows? At least Bruce funded projects and education for the disadvantaged in Gotham. Jason bet most of the shmucks who stayed in these rooms didn't even spare a thought.

All of the positive thoughts about Bruce were very unnerving, so he went to see if he could pick a fight with Dick to take his mind off things.

Dick was asleep, sprawled over the ugly, expensive green bedspread, sunglasses dangling from his fingers and his beautifully coiffured hair a mess on the pillow. His mouth was slightly open and there was a smear of drool on his cheek. He looked like a dope, a ridiculously attractive dope. Maybe because he was much easier to deal with when he was asleep.

Jason was reading in the sitting room when Dick finally woke and wandered in, dishevelled and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Sorry, Jay,” he said, flopping into a plush armchair with more grace than was really fair. “Travelling really takes it out of me.”

Jason grunted and tried not to remember how long he had spent staring at Dick's dumb sleeping face. “Do you have a plan of action, or were you just planning to reel them in with excessive laziness?” he growled.

Dick ignored his combative tone and stretched like a cat, yawning and flexing. “I thought we could check online for some good spots to hit, maybe start with drinks at the bar here to get the lay of the land and then go paint the town red?”

“And we’re going to get noticed I take it?”

“Yeah, money, party's, outrageous behavior, the works.”

“Sounds like fun.” Jason said dryly. It might be fun if he was the one getting to be the party animal, rather than the muscle that stood around looking scary and stopping his charge from doing anything too damaging to his reputation. Still, it might also give him a few good opportunities to watch Dick make a fool of himself, and he never turned down those.

The hotel bar was beautiful, and their choice of whisky was extensive. Jason eyed the bottles with a certain amount of yearning as Dick took a seat and picked up the drinks menu. He would probably choose something horrible and insipid.

“You have a thing about scotch, don't you?” Dick asked. Jason was surprised, they had never discussed such things except for that time when Jason had got horribly drunk sneaking booze from Bruce's drinks cabinet when he was fifteen. He had thought Dick would tattle on him, but he had just grinned and said that it was something of a right of passage to debase Bruce's fancy alcohol. Dick had slapped Jason's shoulder as he wobbled around the pool table, and then told him not to choke to death when the inevitable vomiting happened. And although he had refused to allow Jason to drink any more, he had stayed all night, just to make sure he survived to endure his hangover the next morning.

“I do,” Jason ventured.

“Let’s get some then, we can't get drunk obviously, but we can have a taste or two before dinner. What do you want?”

Jason scanned the menu while Dick took a casual look around the bar. As they were on Bruce's dime, he was going to have to go for something outrageously expensive. Perhaps the 21 year Old Poultney or a Bruichladdich Octomore.

“You order, we're in luck,” Dick murmured, rising out of his chair with the lean grace of a panther and heading towards an older man in a sharp suit. He reached out and shook the guy’s hand while the man eyed him curiously.

By the time Dick came back Jason had sipped thoughtfully at both drinks, making a mental record of each for the tasting notes he would deny keeping with his dying breath.

Dick looked a little unenthusiastic as he eyed the glasses. “No ice?”

“No, Dick. No ice.”

Dick sipped at the Octomore and made a comically disgusted face – a motion that caught the attention of the waiter.

“Everything to your satisfaction, sir?” he asked.

“Yes thanks,” Dick said, still eyeing his drink with a vague expression of offence. “Can I get a coke to go in that?”

“Of course sir.” the waiter said, with a barely perceptible pause. Jason felt the emotion behind the blank veneer of politeness was one of both scorn for the stupid heathen who would do such a thing to a good scotch, and silent anguish for the destruction of a single malt that probably cost as much as a day’s pay.

��God-sakes, just get him a JD and coke, don't sully the good stuff,” Jason said, unable to watch any more, and pulling the drink towards himself protectively.

The waiter looked at Dick who smiled up at him with guileless enthusiasm, “Actually, do you have cocktails? Maybe a strawberry margarita?”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter shot Jason a look of pity before heading to the bar.

“Dick, you are an embarrassment to mankind. An embarrassment to Bruce and his wonderful collection of world whiskeys, and an embarrassment to me.”

Dick stared at him. Jason returned the look, suddenly doubting himself.

“Oh my God, Jason,” Dick grinned at him with the most honest and open expression Jason had seen on his face in forever. “You're a whisky snob!”

“I am not! I just have standards.” Jason couldn't help but feel he had laid himself open in some way. But he was simultaneously enthralled by the expression on Dick's face and pleased for being the one to put it there, as baffling as it was.

“You were the same way about books as a kid, do you remember? So opinionated, you would argue anyone into the floor about whatever you were reading, whether you liked it or not.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Jason said, sullenly. “My teacher hated me, said it was disruptive to disagree with him.”

“Your teacher was an idiot,” Dick sniffed. “Bruce didn't shy away from telling him so, either.”

“I had forgotten that.” He had blocked so many memories out, so he only remembered the bad. It hurt less that way, but it probably wasn't doing him any favors. Suddenly uncomfortable he desperately wanted to change the subject. “Who was that man you were with?” he asked, hoping Dick would take the bait.

“Jerry Peters, he's a guy who knows people,” Dick said, vaguely. “He meets with another guy we might want to connect with who can get us into parties.”

“Fortuitous we met him then,” Jason said dryly.

“Forward planning, and a dash of luck.” Dick sipped smugly at his cocktail, thankfully it had been served in a very respectable looking glass and not in the monstrosity of umbrellas and nonsense Jason had been anticipating. He suspected Dick ordered stuff like that on purpose to get a rise out of him. Maybe, he was really a stylish guy with a sophisticated palette, and only pretended to be a walking embarrassment as some sort of self depreciating bonding mechanism.

Probably not though.

“Here's our guy,” Dick said, without turning.

He was a well dressed white man, approaching fifty and trying to look fifteen years younger, he greeted Peters with a nod and a brisk handshake and they bent their heads together to talk, glancing across the bar towards them. “Looks like you made an impression,” Jason said. “Your man's heading over.”

“Cool,” Dick smiled like a shark and unsubtly tangled one of his legs with Jason's, something that would be clearly visible to the approaching man.

“Hello, I'm sorry to interrupt,” the guy said, as he arrived at their table.

“No problem,” Dick withdrew his leg from where it was resting against Jason's and radiating heat.

“My names Ed Garner,” He reached out at shook Dick's hand.

“Richard Grayson,” Dick said, with a smile that was less sparkly than Jason had anticipated. Apparently this job called for arrogant rather than outright friendly.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Garner said with a smarmy smile of his own. “I know of you of course, you're Bruce Wayne's boy.”

The fact that he said boy rather than son was not lost on either of them, and Jason could see a glint of steel behind Dick's answering smirk. “That's right,” he said.

Jason wasn't sure if he was imagining the slight leer in Garner’s expression, but he knew he wasn't missing the significance of the brief look Garner had given their intertwined legs.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” Garner asked.

“Pleasure,” Dick practically purred the word, his eyes flicking towards Jason and back to Garner “It's been a long time since I've been to Europe, I felt it was time to see the sights.” He made it sound like those sights were pornographic in nature. Jason was proud of how impassive he managed to keep his expression under the full force of Dick's sex voice.

“If you're looking for entertainment while you're in London, I arrange events. There's a party tonight, and one tomorrow at a hot new club – very exclusive, are you interested? I can get you on the list for both without a problem,” Garner said.

“And my bodyguard?” Dick's face was polite, but Jason felt he could sense the dislike oozing off him. Whether Garner could also sense that was irrelevant – he was interested in hooking a hot rich guy to attend his party, and that was it.

“Of course,” he gave Jason a once over that lingered on his biceps, practically bulging out of the ridiculous t-shirt Dick had given him. Jason was not particularly comfortable with the expression on the guy’s face, but a small part of himself, which he hated with a low key intensity, was kind of thrilled that he was someone people thought Dick Grayson was banging. He was slightly disgusted with himself that this was the kind of bullshit his crappy self-esteem was based on.

“That would be great. Send me the details, I'll give you my email.” Dick handed the man a card and then turned back to Jason, completely dismissing Garner in the rudest way possible. “Have you ever had oysters? They have good ones here, I think and maybe a bottle of the good stuff.” He waved at the waiter, leaving Garner to awkwardly smile and leave, returning to his friend at the bar.

Dick ordered them the oysters, which Jason had attempted to eat before, and disliked intensely. Although watching Dick delicately squish lemon onto them and then swallow the slimy little suckers was inexplicably filling Jason's head with bad thoughts. This mission was going to be a potentially embarrassing one, he could tell. Especially if all his pants were as tight as the ones he was currently wearing.

Dick's arrogant playboy persona seemed to work though and within five minutes of Garner leaving their table he had emailed them details of his parties. One in Mayfair, and another in Soho.

“We going to head to this place then?” Jason asked. He had it up on google maps, it wasn't that far to walk and Jason was quite keen to see a bit of the city, especially as it seemed to have finally stopped raining. They would have to probably get a cab though, for show.

“Nah, we just needed this guys attention, we should play hard to get, we don't want to seem too keen. Let’s stay in tonight, do a bit of research and lay a bit of ground work.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Jason said in the most provocative way he knew how. He was extremely gratified to see an expression of surprise flitter over Dick's face and the slight darkening of his eyes.

'Laying the ground work' turned out to involve being as obnoxious a hotel guest as possible, mostly by ordering extravagant food and playing very loud gay porn on the 72 inch TV in the suites lounge. Dick seemed to both be enjoying himself and feeling guilty over the hassle he was causing the poor staff. It was quite funny to watch him struggle between the two very different feelings.

“Just tip them really, really well – a bonus will make up for the trouble. And it’s giving them something to talk about. Your name is already popping up on gossip sites, I'm sure by the end of tonight you'll have the start of a good scandal,” Jason said.

Dick grinned and placed an order for Mojito flavored condoms with more eagerness than was really appropriate. “We could always give the gossips a nudge, too.”

Jason found himself grinning back.

Tarnishing Dick’s name on the Internet turned out to be very entertaining. And as they weren't going out on the town, Jason had treated himself to another scotch and was feeling pretty mellow. His headphones blocked out the porn and he had just started a fight on ONTD over whether Richard Grayson was Bi or just Gay for Pay. He sort of understood why people like Lex Luthor kept trying to take over the world; orchestrating mayhem was fun. He was also amused that Bruce and Dick seemed to have a bunch of sock puppet accounts on social media for just this sort of thing. Bruce on LiveJournal was almost as funny as Bruce on Tumblr.

#jaydick #dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing #redhood #catastrophe #mik trys to write stuff #My writing #My fic

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doublenuzlocke · 7 years

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Entry #11

Quick AN: This is based on a game called Rhythm Thief and the Emperor’s Treasure. Nobody’s ever heard of it, it’s okay, but the mc is a thieving redhead who wears mostly black/red and has a backstory involving his father abandoning him like this AU was begging to be written. The cutscene where father abandonment happens is actually oddly similar to the recent official animation about Silver too I can’t make this up

“Grrrrrrr…. Ruff!”

“I-It’s just a- a Growlithe, right? A cute, fluffy-”

“RUFF! GrrrRUFF!”

“AIIIIIEEE!”

Silver shook his head as the police officer ran off. Goldenrod’s police force was far too easy to work around. Though he had been forced to get a bit closer to that Arcanine than he would have liked to get the recording. But now that the police officer was gone, Silver could be on his way. After the chase the police had given him, he just wanted to head back to his apartment and get some rest.

But who could blame the police, really? After all, Silver had just made off with one of the Goldenrod Museum of Art’s newest pieces – an ancient piece of jewelry known as the Bracelet of Lugia. It was aptly named; it had been sculpted to look like Lugia was circling around the wearer’s wrist. Silver shifted it on his wrist as made his way down one of Goldenrod’s busy streets, relying on the crowd to hide him. It was even busier than normal, seeing as the city was getting ready for its annual festival to honor Johto’s legends. In fact, there were so many people that Silver decided to save himself some time by cutting through one of Goldenrod’s central parks. Sneasel would keep watch from his shoulder, just in case.

The parks, oases of greenery in the concrete jungle of Goldenrod, were strung in lanterns for the upcoming festival; vendors had already moved in to take advantage of the visitors that had started pouring in, even though it was almost a full week before the festival would start. The scents of dumplings and noodles mingled in the air. Silver wished he could get something, but he couldn’t exactly afford to do that in his current outfit.

He had just reached the fringes of the park when something crashed into him, causing him to stumble backwards and Sneasel to yelp on his shoulder. Something rose past Silver’s face; he grabbed at it on instinct and found himself holding the string of a purple balloon. Loud sobbing drew his attention downwards to find a small girl crying on the ground. The balloon must’ve been hers, then. Before Silver could make an attempt to give it back, though, a young woman with pigtails rushed over and kneeled down next to the girl.

“Oh no, are you okay!? You’re not hurt, are you?” The smaller girl looked up, sniffling, and shook her head no.

“Okay, that’s good. Here, c'mon, get up.” The pigtailed woman helped the young girl up, showing her simple blue and white dress, before bending down again to pick up something. Only when she stood up again did she seem to notice Silver standing there. After staring at each other for a moment, she smiled and pointed to the balloon. “Is that yours?” The girl nodded, so Silver tried to make himself look as unannoyed as possible and handed it to her. He’d been told he always looked annoyed far too many times to count, and he really wasn’t; he doubted the girl had meant to run into him.

“You what else’ll cheer you up?” the pigtailed woman asked, winking at Silver with a grin. She then began to unzip the object she had picked up, which Silver now realized was an instrument case. From within she pulled a violin that shone in the lantern-light, which she put to her shoulder and began to play.

Silver had to admit, she was pretty good. The song was unfamiliar to him, but she played with an obvious passion that pulled you in. Even Sneasel was watching her. Then something on the violin caught Silver’s eye. Was it… the mark?

“It’s him!”

A shout from behind made Silver and Sneasel both jump and look behind them. To his dismay, Silver saw yet more police officers. He bolted past the pigtailed woman, Sneasel digging his claws into his suit jacket and chirping apologetically.

—

As the police ran past her, the pigtailed woman frowned in thought, momentarily oblivious to the girl tugging on her dress. She had thought the young man in the fancy suit looked familiar with his blazing red hair and silver eyes. But why would the police be chasing after him?

Realization struck her, making her gasp. He couldn’t have been…

Phantom Kaito?

It took almost fifteen minutes for Silver to shake the police. He ended up having to circle around the park and a couple of city blocks, finally losing them when he ducked into the maze-like system of back alleys that led him to the seaside streets.

There was a bit of a wind off of the ocean, but it felt refreshing after all the running. Silver breathed in the salty air as he strolled along the street, watching the boats docking and disembarking at the pier. It wouldn’t take too long to get back to his apartment for here. And the view was nice, too.

He was almost back among the city’s buildings when someone knocked into him, making him stumble back a few steps. Sneasel yelped and scrambled for purchase on his shoulder.

“Watch it…” Silver grumbled under his breath. Then he realized that the person who had knocked into him was the pigtailed woman from earlier. She darted past him onto one of the balconies built into the sidewalk and looked around frantically, gasping for breath.

“There she is!”

From the same direction the woman had come from ran out a group of people in black uniforms, Pokémon trailing beside them. When they saw Silver, they stopped, and a man in a white suit sauntered forward from within the group. Silver wondered why someone would be running around the city in a suit before remembering that he was doing the exact same thing at that moment.

“Move, child. This doesn’t concern you.”

Silver was momentarily miffed at being called a child – just because he was short, that didn’t mean he was a kid! But he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. He knew trouble when he saw it – he couldn’t get distracted. He looked at the woman over his shoulder. He should probably leave before he got caught up in something. But he doubted she had done anything to get the attention of the gang other than exist, from how frightened she looked. And he had thought he’d seen the symbol on her violin earlier…

The woman caught his gaze, her expression pleading. Silver sighed and reached into his pocket. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to do this.

“Sorry. Not going to do that.”

He released Alakazam as Sneasel jumped down from his shoulder. The gang seemed to be using mostly Golbat and Raticate.

“Icy Wind! Focus Blast!” Silver ordered, and his Pokémon jumped into action. Sneasel attacked first, his Icy Wind causing ice to form on the bodies of the gang and their Pokémon, slowing them down and allowing Alakazam to bowl over several of them with his Focus Blast.

“Keep it up!” Silver told them as he ran over to the woman. “Come on, we should get out of here before something else happens,” Silver told her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back into the street. She nodded.

“Yeah. Th-Thanks.” They started running, Silver leading her back towards the bulk of the city. He knew he could lose them there.

“Cover us!” he yelled to his Pokémon as they ran past the fighting. Sneasel and Alakazam fired one last attack and then joined them.

“After them!” came the voice of the white-suited man; soon enough, a mass of footsteps pounded on the pavement behind them. He could hear the sounds of attacks being fired at them, but he didn’t look. He’d only distract himself.

Suddenly, something slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground. He felt claws dig into his back. He tried to get up, but the weight on his back just dug its claws in further and shoved him down again. He heard Sneasel growl and something else squeal above him, and then the weight fell off and he scrambled quickly to his feet. He ran towards the pigtailed woman, who had come to a stop a few yards away, but she shouted, “Behind you!” He wheeled and lashed out with a desperate kick. He thought he saw something glow out of the corner of his eye, but any thought he might have put to that was quickly taken over when his kick launched the grunt that had been about to attack him like they’d been tail-swiped by a dragon. They flew backwards into the group of people and Pokémon behind them. Silver stared in shock. There was no way his kick should have done that.

He was suddenly pulled out of his stupor by the pigtailed woman grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

“Come on!” she shouted. Silver shook his head, and they started running again. Silver took the lead once more, taking them through the twists and turns of Goldenrod’s side streets, even after the sound of footsteps behind them faded away. It seemed both an eternity and an instant before they finally came to a stop, and the night sky above gave no frame of reference. Silver recalled Alakazam as everyone caught their breath.

“So…” Silver looked over at the pigtailed woman as she began to speak, her eyebrow raised. “You’re that thief, right? Phantom Kaito?”

There wasn’t any use in pretending he wasn’t, he thought. It was more of a statement than a question. Silver sighed.

“Yeah. That’s me.” “Right. Kinda like that anime.”

“…You could say something like that.” Silver wasn’t about to tell her that that was where he’d gotten the name. “Just so we can get this out of the way, you’re not telling anyone about me, got it?”

“Got it,” the woman said with a grin. “I mean, you did save me and all…”

“You’re taking this far too well.”

The woman just shrugged in response. The two were silent for a few moments before Silver’s eyes drifted to the violin case slung on her back.

“Can I see your violin?” he asked her.

“You’re not gonna steal it, are you?” Despite her words, she was already moving to take the violin out.

The woman opened the case and took out her violin, holding it out towards Silver. It looked fairly unremarkable without the glowing lantern-light on it. But there, on the body of the violin – his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him earlier. The symbol, the same one on his coin and the bracelet, was carved into the wood. It looked like some sort of Pokémon, but not one that Silver had ever seen, with a large head and feet, and a tail as long as its body. It was in the same style as the art of Kanto and Johto’s ancient civilizations.

“Do you know anything about this symbol?” Silver asked, reaching up to brush his fingers over it.

“That? No, though I wish I did. If I did, then I might be able to find out more about where this violin came from.”

Silver looked up from the violin to stare at the woman. She didn’t know where the violin had come from? He started to ask how she’d gotten the violin when the symbol on it began to glow with a soft golden light. He watched it for a moment before looking up again to find the woman staring at him with a mix of wonder and excitement. She started whispering animatedly about how cool it was. Silver just looked back down to the glowing symbol and realized that there was a similar glow from his sleeve. He pulled it back to find that, as he suspected, the mark on the bracelet was glowing too. The woman got even more excited when she saw the bracelet and reached out to touch it. Silver let her – he had better things to think about.

First the bracelet. Now the violin. He hadn’t expected to get so many leads.

On one hand, he could just steal the violin now. She’d be upset, but that wasn’t really his concern. He just wanted to know how it all connected. How it connected to his father. But something told him that the story of how this woman got her violin was important.

Silver had done a lot of unbelievable things that night. He’d robbed one of Johto’s most famous museums. He’d saved a random stranger from a group of thugs. And, perhaps most unbelievably, he was about to reveal himself to that random stranger. He sighed.

“What’s your name?” The woman stopped whispering to give him a curious glance. But after a moment, she smiled.

“Kotone.”

“Where do you live, Kotone?”

“Well, you’re interested in my personal life all of a sudden. I live in the southwest district.”

A decent part of town. But also on the complete other side of the city. That wouldn’t do.

“…My apartment’s not too far from here. Maybe you should stay there for the night.” I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“And why would I want to do that? Saved my life or no, you are a stranger.”

“Maybe because there’s a good chance those people will find you again if you try to go home? It seemed like they were after you, specifically.” The woman frowned. “They’re less likely to try something during the day. You can go home then.”

“…Only if I get to let my parents know that I won’t be home tonight.” She stared at him, determined.

“As long as you don’t tell them who I am.”

“Deal.”

Kotone started dialing the second Silver closed the apartment door behind them. While she waited for someone to pick up, he folded his torn-up jacket and put it on his desk. Sneasel put his hat on top. He’d taken them both off once they’d gotten closer to his apartment, as well as pulling his hair up into a ponytail. The less he looked like Phantom Kaito, the better. He’d also had Kotone stash the bracelet in her violin case.

After a moment of hesitation, Silver decided to change out of his costume. She already knew where he lived; there wasn’t much more he could do than that. He grabbed a t-shirt and some sweatpants and went into the bathroom as Kotone started talking. He could hear her talking through the door, but couldn’t understand much; he could tell she’d used the “staying at a friend’s house” excuse, though. She seemed somewhat uncertain when he came back out.

“-uh, she’s…” Kotone glanced at Silver, then at the door he came out of. “She’s in the shower right now! I’ll have her call you back when she’s done, okay?” Her parents must have agreed, by the relieved look on her face. “Okay! Love you! Bye!” She hung up, then blew out a deep breath. “Do you mind if I call someone else?”

“Your friend, I’m guessing?” “Yeah.”

“Go ahead.”

Kotone nodded and called someone else, who picked up much quicker than her parents had.

“So, I may have told my parents I’m staying with you tonight. …Yes. …No. …Yes, I need you to cover for me. I told them you were in the shower.” There was a longer pause. “Thank you so much! We’ll go get lunch or something, okay? …Cool. Thanks! See ya!” After she hung up, she rolled her eyes. “She’s so dramatic sometimes. Going on about how I’m finally growing up, sneaking out at night.” She was smiling, though. Then she turned to Silver, who had sat down on the bed.

“Alright. First thing, mystery boy. What’s your name?”

“Silver.”

“Silver, huh? That’s actually a pretty nice name. Okay, second thing, Silver. Why are you so interested in that symbol?”

Silver looked away from her, out the apartment’s sole window. He wanted to tell her this even less than he’d wanted to tell her who he was.

“Can you get them out?” he said, motioning towards her violin case. Kotone nodded and unlatched it, revealing the violin and the bracelet, the symbols on them both still softly glowing. She set them down on the bed, and Silver picked the bracelet up. The symbols stopped glowing once they were barely a foot away from each other. Then he reached over to his desk, pulling his torn jacket over and pulling a coin out of the pocket. He held it out so Kotone could see.

“My father left this here when he left.”

“Oh… I didn’t… You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I didn’t realize-”

Silver shook his head.

“The same symbol on this coin, your violin, and this bracelet from thousands of years ago? This is bigger than I thought it was. It’s probably better if you know. That’s really all there is, anyway. I want to know what this has to do with my father.”

“You want to find him?”

“Not for the reasons you think. I don’t care about him. He abandoned us by his own choice. I’m more concerned about what he might be doing.” He looked Kotone in the eye. “He’s a criminal. And if he’s back in the game… Then I’m going to stop whatever damn plan he comes up with.”

Kotone looked down at her violin. She seemed deep in thought. Finally, she looked up again.

“Stopping a criminal from messing with ancient conspiracies, then? Sounds like a good cause.”

“You don’t seem even mildly concerned about any of this.”

“Oh, I am.” Kotone’s expression turned serious for a moment. “It all sounds very dangerous.” She shrugged. “But I can’t let it get to me. I can’t just ignore something like this!”

Silver just shook his head.

“What about your story then?” he asked. “You mentioned something about how you got your violin earlier.”

After another moment of thought, Kotone nodded.

“Yeah, I did. But I think it’d be better if you saw where it happened, too. How about I show you that before I go home?”

“Okay. But we should probably sleep then.” Silver glanced at his clock. It was a little after one AM. “I’m not sure where you’ll sleep, though…”

“Just give me some blankets, I’ll be fine! I sleep on the floor at sleepovers all the time!”

I’m not sure I’d call this a sleepover, Silver thought, but he pulled a couple spare blankets out of the closet and handed them to her.

“I only have one pillow. Sorry.”

“It’s fine!” She bunched the blankets into a pile and burrowed herself into them. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Silver mumbled, if only to be polite. But his mind raced with the pieces he’d found that night.

He would figure it all out. Whatever it took.

#au fanfic contest #WE BOTH HEARD ABOUT THE GAME BTW JUST LETTING YA KNOW AKSJDHASKJDHAKJ #submission #nighttyger

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thesecuritytips · 4 years

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How to protect your home from burglars and not get put on trial: 10 rules for effective self-defense.

People with like-minded people promoting the project “My home is my fortress” are often asked to formulate the basic rules of behavior for a person whose enemies have broken into his home. As a result, in order to give a detailed answer to this question, we turned for help to specialists from various fields, a true professional in our field: security engineers, practicing lawyers, law enforcement officers and military practice trainers. The material received is enough for a whole self-defense allowance. In the meantime, we suggest starting with the basics - the 10 most important rules of self-defense, which will be useful for anyone to know.

1. Protect your home from penetration as much as possible

If prevention is the best treatment, then the best defense against an unexpected attack is the well-fortified "perimeter" of your home.

Let's start with the budget options. A very inexpensive, but, as it turned out, a very effective way of scaring away unforeseen "guests" is to place a light on the house or the stairwell of the security alarm and a sign that the object is under guard. To enhance the effect, you can add models of surveillance cameras. They, like real cameras, can be equipped with light indicators. More expensive versions of such layouts are able to move and simulate scanning the viewing area.

If you are ready to invest significant money in protecting your home, instead of mock-ups, of course, you should install an effective security system and purchase real CCTV cameras. They will not only allow you to control the situation, but also come in handy in case it comes to self-defense. Video recording will help restore the chronology of events for law enforcement officers and will serve as proof of your innocence. If you are the owner of a private home ownership, then you should also think about equipping your site with a perimeter security alarm system, for example using motion sensors.

If you live in a multi-storey building, be sure to ensure that the landing is well lit in the evening and at night. The same rule applies to the local area, if you are a happy owner of a country cottage.

Reinforce the door block. It is advisable to install at least two locks on the front door, and their designs should radically differ from each other. It is advisable that the key lock the inside and out. This will increase the degree of security. On the inside of the door you need to place a valve, a chain with a signal or a special latch-latch. Near the door you should keep a can of tear gas nearby so that when you try to cut the chain with special pliers, drive it away by sprinkling caustic substance in his face.

If there are two or more entrances to the dwelling (through the garage, for example), then good castles should be everywhere. Balcony doors are also dangerous, especially if they are glass and sliding.

Window protection is the most difficult issue. Of course, if your apartment is located on high floors, except for the last, this question is not of primary importance for you. In other cases, depending on your willingness to invest, you can find wooden or metal shutters, anti-vandal films, rolling shutters (including electric ones), grills, armored glass, etc. on the market.

And most importantly, do not open the door to strangers. Do not leave the apartment if you see suspicious strangers in the stairwell.

2. Be Vigilant

Having heard extraneous noise, do not blame everything on paranoia and instantly check the living space.

3. Develop a plan in advance

Think and talk with family members about an action plan in case a criminal tries to get into your home. This, at a minimum, will avoid unnecessary panic.

Choose a safe place that can be easily locked up and barricaded if burglars enter the house. It can be a bedroom of parents or a child. There should be a working telephone in a safe room, whether it be a fixed line telephone or a charged mobile device. It is important that each family member knows exactly what to do in the event of a robbery. For example, a child calls the police, mom takes out self-defense weapons, dad barricades the door. Ideally, this plan should be rehearsed several times in order to act at the level of automatism in case of danger.

If you are alone in the apartment, an attacker is breaking into your home, but you don’t have a plan, as well as self-defense, then, ceteris paribus, you should run to the kitchen. There, at a minimum, household knives are available.

4. Call for help

Even if you practice martial arts and shoot accurately, do not rely solely on your own strengths.

If a threat is detected, call the police immediately and state the situation as clearly and thoroughly as possible. The brighter you outline the social danger of what is happening, the faster the outfit will arrive. If you are the owner of a traumatic or hunting weapon, you should warn the 911 operators that, if necessary, you will have to use it. According to the polled employees of security agencies, in this case, the police, fearing a shootout, significantly accelerate in their movement to your house.

While law enforcement officers are traveling, call for help from neighbors and attract the attention of passers-by on the street. For this purpose, electric sirens are ideal, or, at worst, the so-called “tweeters”, portable sos buttons used by older people in case of emergency. The loud, piercing sound emitted by such devices will attract the attention of others.

Again, if your budget allows, it is better to install an alarm button in the apartment. If unfamiliar people came to visit you and began to behave aggressively, you should immediately connect employees of private security or a private security company to this situation, and not wait for the development of events.

5. "Turn on Sherlock"

If the criminal has already entered your house, and you called the police, try to buy time. Perhaps, having warned the criminal that you are armed and ready to open fire, you will be able to either frighten the villain, or chat him and gain time before the arrival of law enforcement officers. If the plan did not work and the struggle is inevitable, despite fear and stress, try to assess the situation as objectively as possible. Believe me, this is very important, no matter how strange it sounds (they try to rob you, rape or kill you, and you must analyze what is happening as a real investigator). If your self-defense is successful and you repel the attack, but at the same time cause serious harm to your health or even kill the attacker, it is likely that you, and not your opponent, will be in the dock.

All cases related to self-defense are unique, and universal rules for this case, unfortunately, do not exist. But there is a certain minimum of factors that you must evaluate:

- Does the attacker have a weapon.

If the attacker is not armed, and you attack him with a gun or knife, then your actions will be recognized as self-defense, disproportionate threat, and you can appear before the court not as a victim, but as a defendant.

- how many criminals got into your house.

It is clear that if there are two or more raiders, then your life is in greater danger than if the criminal broke into alone.

In accordance with the explanations of the Supreme Court, in the event of an attack by several persons, the defender has the right to apply such protective measures to any of the offenders that are determined by the nature and danger of the actions of the whole group. That is, for example, if the gang is armed and one of its members has already opened fire on you, then you are not obliged to aim and try to get into the one who first pulled the trigger.

- the ratio of your forces with the characteristics of the enemy.

Consider the sex, age, physical and mental condition of the offender.

If, for example, the attacker is armed with a knife, but is in a state of extreme alcohol intoxication and does not coordinate his movements well, try to simply “knock him out”, and not cause serious bodily harm.

- the surprise of the moment.

Courts often side with the victims of night thieves, because, due to fright and unforeseen threats, the defender cannot assess the danger of the attack.

If circumstances allow, try to capture what is happening on audio or video. For this purpose, a video camera in the corridor near the front door and a regular telephone are suitable. Documenting your position will serve you well when communicating with law enforcement officials. But more on that later.

6. Stock up on self-defense weapons

In Russia, you can buy firearms for hunting weapons, gas weapons, traumatism, stun guns and gas canisters. At the same time, for all types of self-defense weapons, except pneumatics with a muzzle energy of not more than 7.5 J, stun guns and gas sprays, a license is required, which is issued by the police (in fact, now the National Guard).

The weapon should be stored not only in accordance with all the rules, in a safe place for children, but also so that if necessary you can easily remove it yourself. If you bought a stun gun, do not forget to constantly monitor the charge of its battery.

7. And know how to use it!

I'll start with the main thing. Using any type of self-defense weapon, remember that your task is to immobilize the enemy in order to safely leave the house, and not to kill him.

Use firearms with extreme caution. If the robbers start to open the front door, and in the apartment opposite to the noise, one of the neighbors clings to the door eye and you open fire from a hunting rifle, there is a risk of getting into a neighbor and going to the colony for 5-7 years. A cheap front door, as well as a non-main wall, a bullet will easily pass through. Even at criminals threatening you, do not shoot at close range or at close range. If you really had to open fire, try to aim at the limbs. We must not forget that a traumatic or pneumatic gun when fired at close range can cause no less harm to health than a hunting rifle. When using injuries, it is extremely dangerous to shoot in the head and neck. From pneumatics to the neck and face. Of course, if you see a real threat to the life of your or your loved ones, all these fears do not matter. However, do not forget that you will not be able to avoid subsequent communication with the investigator. And in the case of grievous bodily harm to the robber, and especially the death of the villain who attacked you, the court will instantly turn you from a “victim” to a “defendant”.

Recommendations for the use of stun guns are quite simple: it should be used suddenly. It is important not to scare the enemy (such behavior can, on the contrary, cause inadequate aggression on his part), but to ensure close contact of the stun gun with the body of the attacker, that is, attach to open parts.

A few words about the use of gas spray. First, first try to distract the attacker, for example, shout "stop", "beware" or any other phrase. Focus on the attacker at close range and press the can only when ready. Spray the can at arm's length, that is, at least 50 cm, because there is often a recoil from the jet. After spraying the can immediately run away, and do not wait until the enemy comes to his senses.

Use the knife in an exceptional case. The knife is, first and foremost, an attack weapon, not a defense. It may be knocked out of your hands and applicable to you.

In the case of hand-to-hand combat, aim at vulnerable places - these are knees, groin, neck, eyes.

8. Do not kill the aggressor

In a situation of necessary defense, it is very important to understand when the attack ended.

If the offender takes flight, in no case should you open fire on him. A wound in the back will indicate that you have exceeded the limits of the necessary defense.

However, the transfer of weapons or other objects from the attacker to the defender does not mean the end of the attack. If a bandit’s knife or gun fell into your hands, this does not mean that the danger has passed and you are not entitled to continue self-defense.

9. Call 02, 03 and the lawyer

If you were able to successfully repel the attack, do not relax - immediately contact the police, an ambulance and a familiar lawyer.

No matter how strange it sounds, if possible, try to even provide first aid to the attacker. If a bandit dies from blood loss, it is possible that you will have problems. First, fix the arms and legs of the attacker to exclude the possibility of escape or re-attack.

When the police arrive, describe the chronology of the fight as thoroughly and thoroughly as possible.

The participation of a competent lawyer in a self-defense case is very beneficial. Proof of this is the story of Tatyana Kudryavtseva. When she was picking mushrooms in the forest, a citizen of Uzbekistan attacked her and tried to rape her. She stabbed him with a knife, which turned out to be fatal. Tatyana immediately called her boss, who called a good lawyer. The lawyer demanded that the investigators, so that without him they would not even begin to examine the scene of the incident. It was the defender who insisted on a medical examination of Kudryavtseva and fixing other important circumstances. As a result, the woman was acquitted, although initially the investigation was of the version that Tatyana exceeded the limits of the necessary defense.

10. Do not be too heroic

If criminals demand to give money or jewelry - give it without hesitation, without entering into negotiations or, especially, in the fight. If you had the opportunity to leave the premises - be sure to run away.

And remember, for a court, the life and health of a person, even a criminal who wanted to rob you, will be more valuable than the inviolability of your property.

Read more!

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raystart · 7 years

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Knocking Down your Creative Blocks

This is a story about the day I quit writing.

It was 1989. I was 32. For the previous nine months, I’d been researching and reporting the biggest story of my early career. That the assignment had been handed to me on a platter by my editor at Rolling Stone was only the beginning of the pressure.

The central figure was a man named John Holmes. Perhaps the most iconic star of the early days of porn, Holmes had recently died, the first known AIDS casualty in X-rated films.

During the 1970s and 1980s, Holmes performed in nearly three thousand adult films. Besides his astounding natural endowment, he is best remembered for headlining the first series of adult movies that attempted a plot line and character development. Playing a hard-boiled detective named Johnny Wadd, Holmes was a polyester-wearing smoothie with a sparse mustache, a flying collar and lots of buttons undone. He wasn’t threatening. He chewed gum and overacted. He took a lounge singer’s approach to sex: deliberately gentle, ostentatiously artful. You didn’t know whether to laugh or stare.

As home video players became ubiquitous, Holmes became more famous, breaching the mainstream, commanding larger and larger fees. But with the rise came the inevitable fall—a copious addiction to freebase cocaine, which robbed him of his money, his dignity, and his ability to muster a serviceable erection.

Eventually, Holmes fell in with a club owner and drug dealer named Eddie Nash, and also with a gang of small time criminals who were later dubbed the Wonderland Gang—after the location of their puke-green stucco rental house on Wonderland Avenue, in the leafy environs just north of Hollywood’s Sunset Strip, in Laurel Canyon. Desperate for money and drugs, the gang decided to rob Nash.

After the robbery, one of Nash’s henchmen ran into Holmes in a convenience store. He noticed Holmes wearing his boss’ stolen ring. And shortly thereafter, four of the members of the Wonderland gang were found bludgeoned to death with blunt objects. The crime scene was brutal. The press would dub it the “Four on the Floor Murders.”

***

I spent six weeks in Los Angeles working the story. There was no internet at the time. Reporting was still a craft that required shoe leather and a way with people—you had to look them in the eye. I interviewed nearly 100 sources. I went from house to house knocking on doors. I found court files buried in a repository four stories underground. I visited a half-dozen porn shoots and spoke to a dozen or more porn stars and directors (I know, rough job). I consorted with convicted felons. Most were behind bars. They were constantly calling collect.

My biggest “gets” were Holmes’ first wife, a former UCLA nurse, and another woman who became his mistress when she was only fifteen.

My biggest shock had been answering the knock at my hotel room door and discovering that the two women were now best friends.

We sat at the cheap dinette table in my rent-by-the-week motel suite. For nearly twelve hours they poured out their tale. The room was a haze of cigarette smoke. I remember boiling more water, making more tea. And I remember changing the microcassette tapes, one after the other, trying not to make too big a deal of the process lest I break the spell. Their story—funny and intimate and tragic—would later become the basis for the movie Wonderland, starring Val Kilmer, Lisa Kudrow, and Kate Bosworth. The larger piece would become Boogie Nights. (Alas, I didn’t own the rights to any life stories. I played no part in the making the movies.)

***

In time, my office looked like it had been hit by a blizzard of 20-pound bond. There were piles of paper on every flat surface, and on the floor around me, all of them tagged with colorful Post-it Notes, some of the piles reaching several feet in height—a miniature cityscape at my feet: Transcribed interviews, notes, court documents and legal transcripts of testimony and deposition hearings, newspaper clippings, non-fiction books and research papers on the subjects of AIDS and the Reagan Administration’s war on pornography (a period during which porn consumption by the public rose exponentially, I would learn). Not to mention my collection of VHS films—black plastic rectangles, clad in colorful cardboard slip covers, stacked in rickety piles like so many skyscrapers populating my urban jungle of research materials.

Finally, I was done reporting and was ready to write. I sat down I sat in my expensive ergonomic office chair, at my father’s old desk in the bay window on the third floor of a townhouse just off the Washington DC’s notorious 14th Street Strip. One mile from the White House, the trade in prostitutes and crack cocaine was brisk 24/7. The newspaper liked to call it “an outdoor bazaar.”

Inside, on my computer screen, things were not so lively. Even though I knew where I wanted to start the story—with the Wonderland gang planning the heist—I couldn’t start. There was just too much information. Too many moving parts. Too many notes. Too many proper nouns.

I started the first sentence again and again. And again. And again.

Deep in Laurel Canyon… Deep in Laurel Canyon… something.

By the second day, I was becoming more and more agitated. More desperate. And then depressed. And then really depressed. Holy shit, I thought, I’m Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

Deep in Laurel Canyon… Deep in Laurel Canyon… something.

Finally I wrote this: They gave me a story about a guy with a 14-inch penis. How did I fuck this up?

I imagined myself dead in my fancy Aeron chair, my carcass desiccated and covered with cobwebs, rats chewing through the cityscape of pulp and plastic that occupied my hundred-year-old wood plank floor.

Finally, by late afternoon on the third day, I’d had enough. I said it out loud to myself and anyone else within earshot, though there was no one else:

“I quit.”

Writing was too fucking hard. And it wasn’t worth it. I’d worked for nine months on this fucker. I was due to collect $2,250 for this story. I had borrowed money to renovate my house, but was spending it on the mortgage and food and electricity. All for a chance at what…getting my name in Rolling Stone?

Maybe I need to find a new line of work, I suggested to myself. Maybe I’ll go back to law school—I wasn’t too old for a change: Plenty of people switched jobs in their early thirties, did they not?

I shut the door behind me on my way out of that room.

***

I took off walking.

Dusk was gathering and the earlybird hookers were just hitting the streets for the evening rush of homebound commuters. There was the usual tang of want, need and expectation swirling in the air, along with the smells of car exhaust and fireplace woodsmoke.

It was the media who’d labeled this area the 14th Street Strip; the pimps and hoes called it the “Track.” The flashier women were posted up beneath the street lamps along 14th Street NW, which was lined with storefronts, laundromats, auto shops, Chinese carryouts, and a number of liquor stores. One block over, 13th Street served as the back stretch. Darker and more residential, lined with overhanging trees, it was the provenance of welfare mothers, drug dealers and thieves. The johns from Virginia approached from the south, from the north came the men from Maryland. They circled round and round.

As I walked thought this usual evening tableau, I felt my mind begin to clear, and I kept moving at a swift pace. Soon, I left the strip altogether and reached the National Mall, hung a right, and walked on the grass toward the Lincoln Memorial. Climbing the steps, I paid my usual respects to Honest Abe, then turned around and grabbed a seat.

Spread before me was the familiar landscape—the Reflecting pool, the Washington Monument, the great dome of the Capitol, as thrilling as ever in the gathering loam, the lights beginning to twinkle.

And suddenly it hit me.

Deep in Laurel Canyon, the Wonderland Gang was planning its last heist.

***

I learned that day that writer’s block had nothing to do with writing.

No matter how many sources I consult, how much information I collect, how many e-stacks of paper I build, or search windows I open, my story is not going to be found in my notes.

And neither is it lurking somewhere in the shadows of my blank screen. (If only we could rub with a quarter and have our work revealed?)

Don’t expect your best stuff to suddenly appear by magic. You can noodle the germ of an idea into something concrete—you can fiddle and try things and edit and throw stuff up against the wall until somehow the fairy dust of your creative gift is released by the gods and floats down over all.

But before any of that can happen, you need to figure out what you’re trying to say.

For me that usually happens outside my office. Walking up a hill or chopping vegetables or taking a shower. Driving places. Staring out the window.

And yes, the people who are close me take notice of the times I’m not really there, the many times I’m not really there, the days or evenings when I’m walking around distracted or I forget that I had plans. But hell, I’m an artist. I’m making something beautiful in my head. I’m not supposed to be a norm. Maybe that’s why there aren’t a lot of people in my life day to day? No matter. It suits me to be lost in my thoughts. Because that means the next time I’m at my keyboard, I’m going to take a crack at making something sing.

No matter what your genre, it’s probably the same. When you sit down to create something out of nothing, it’s best to have an idea of where you’re going: What, exactly, are you trying to create? Can you see it in your mind’s eye? Can you hear it playing like a song? Flickering like a movie? Can you smell and taste and feel?

Only then can you make it real.

#startups #text #startup #advice #busieness #howto #news #tech #love

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alanafsmith · 7 years

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Why an ex-cop who posed as an undercover heroin addict wants drugs decriminalized

For 14 years, Neil Woods risked his life as a drug squad police officer posing undercover as a heroin and crack addict.

As among the first of his kind in the UK, he helped to establish tactics and training to infiltrate the most notorious and violent drug gangs across the country. In over a decade, he had completed operations in areas including Derby, Leicester, Nottingham, Leeds and Brighton.

But despite his efforts, he gradually realised his work was only making the situation worse. Criminals were becoming more brutal as they wised up to police strategies. Drug-related deaths were climbing and drugs were becoming stronger and more readily available.

To Woods, the war on drugs had failed. Determined to undo the damage he'd done as an officer - which caused him to suffer from PTSD - he launched Law Enforcement Against Prohibitions (Leap) in the UK. Founded in the US, the organisation brings together former members of the criminal justice system, including ex-members of MI5 and the authorities in Afghanistan who have seen how the black market funds terrorism.

The Independent spoke to Woods about his most extreme experiences as a drug squad cop, and why he believes politicians need to decriminalise drugs.

How did you end up being an undercover cop? Was it something you always wanted to do?

The type of work I did didn't really exist when I started doing it in 1993 and there was a lot of pressure from Home Office for forces to deal with the latest moral outrage of crack cocaine. I was working with the drug squad in Derbyshire and I was asked to have a go at crack cocaine. It was successful and dictated the next 13 years of my life. This was before there was formal training and rules for undercover work. I helped to develop the training and the tactics that were rolled out three years later. I was just throw in at the deep end.

Was it tough starting out? Do you remember your first operation?

The first place I was posted was in Derby and it wasn't actually that difficult. There were some proper gangsters selling crack and heroin but they weren't used to the tactic so although it was a bit scary it wasn’t tremendously difficult because they weren't expecting it. But thing the about undercover work is that it doesn't take long for criminalise to learn the tactics.

So around two years later I was doing an operation in Fenton, Staffordshire, on a dealer I’d been buying heroin from for a few weeks. One day, he answered the door and held samurai sword to my throat and accused me of being part of the DS (drug squad). Spit was flying out of his mouth as he was growling and I could feel the cold steel on my throat and I thought that was it. I thought he would murder me. And I heard some female laughing from behind him and a woman stuck her head out from behind the door and said ‘I thought he was actually going to say he was DS for a second!’ I realised he was winding me up then. Maybe he wanted to try out his new sword. But as every year went on without fail the people were more violent. The ultimate defence against the development of police tactics is an increased use of violence to intimidate the community in which undercover police move. Also it’s the ultimate defence against police informants because the most successful gangsters are the ones who make people too scared to grass them up.

How did you pretend to be an heroin addict? Did you go to acting classes? Or cut down your diet to look scrawny?

Well the idea that addicts are thin is just part of the stigma of drug use. Problematic users come in all shapes and sizes. As for behaviour you have to know your commodity. You have to be a real geek with knowing how people behave and you have to know it even more than the people on the ground. Then it’s just the art of deception and staying attuned to the body language of other people and detecting the moment someone is lying. That can be the thing that saves your life.

When has the art of deception saved your life?

In 2001 - by that point I’d been doing it for about seven or eight years - I was in a six month operation and I got to know one gangster really well. But I had no footage of him corroborate the other evidence. He had been hiding out so I tempted him to a car park with a load of counterfeit clothing and he came with this massive block of crack cocaine the size of a videotape and two mates that I didn’t know. One of them was instantly suspicions of me and I was sort of fending off his suspicions with subtle verbal jousting to steer the questions away from me.

Eventually he started picking at my clothes. He pushed me against a wall and saw the camera I was hiding. This wasn’t James Bond. It wasn’t a sophisticated camera and there wasn't much doubt about what he’d found. What I did was launch a torrent of abuse at him about picking at my clothes and I started moving really slowly. If you run away from a pack of wolves they catch you and eat you but if you stare at them in the eye and leave in a bold fashion you can confuse them for long enough to escape.

I was so bold and slow and un-bothered that he gave me time to walk away. I managed to get away all the time he was shouting to his mates “he’s heat! He’s f*cking five O!’ And the dealer said ‘nah he’s fine'. I almost got to the end of the carpark. Almost. But then I heard running behind me and I thought 'this is it'. It was the guy cutting up the crack and he comes up to me and says ‘nevermind my mate. He's a dickhead’. And I go along with it and say ‘these aren't even my clothes. I borrowed them this morning’. And then he gave me a rock of crack and I carried on walking. His mate was still screaming ‘mate he’s five O!’ Eventually, his mate must have convinced him i was from the police because when I got to the end of the carpark I heard screeching tyres.

I ran onto the pavement and could hear it zooming behind me, getting closer. Luckily I get to some railings but I must have been a metre away from being run down by the car. I got back to a safe location and was debriefed by the special operations team and gave descriptions of the people and registration of the car. An intelligence guy told me ‘I don't know why they didn't shoot you.There's loads of intel that there’s a gun in the car!’ They probably thought they could get me in the car and I was too close to civilisation. I was lucky. Lots of times I was lucky.

When else was your life in danger like that?

There are so many instance! Once I was doing a long term job in a pub run by outrageous almost cartoon-like gangsters who were organised car thieves and the main guy was a coke and crack dealer. The mistake I made was making myself out to be a connoisseur of amphetamines which I’m obviously not. I meet this guy and he tells me he’s brought me a present. It’s a bag filled with pink toxic goo that was dissolving the plastic bag it was in. He said ‘I bet you've never had anything like this before'. Just before this, he’d ordered someone to be beaten and he'd been dragged out bloody and bruised. This guy was a maniac. He picked up on my hesitation instantly and became suspicious. So I had to try some of it or I’d be in trouble. So I tried it and he said ‘no, you want more than that’.

So I took a big lump. And I could almost feel the mouth ulcers forming in my mouth. It turned out whereas street amphetamines are between 5 to 7 per cent pure, this was 40 per cent pure. It was horrific. I felt this warmth in my stomach and I was out of it. I had the most horrendous intense anxious feeling. I didn't sleep for three nights. Mind you my house has never been so clean.

You have a wife and children - what was it like for them?

Well I didn't have the best relationship with my wife at the time but I still took kids swimming on a Sunday. I’d be away two or three nights a week and travelling but on weekends I was with the kids. But I couldn't tell friends or colleagues what my job was. Even the officers I worked with didn’t know what my real name was because I would be managed by a special operations unit.

Has anyone ever recognised you? Aren’t you afraid someone will seek revenge now you've gone public with your story?

There is always that risk but I worked some distance away from home. I’ve only been back to Brighton once and Northampton once very briefly. I don’t try to avoid places although I suppose I won’t be hanging around estates in Leicester anytime soon. That could be fairly risky. But I used used to risk my life doing the work because I used to believe I was doing good. Now I realise everything I did only caused harm.

Now, I feel duty bound to continue taking risks because it’s a matter of principal. And I wouldn’t expect anyone to seek revenge because organised drug dealing is a business and these people use violence as part of the business model. They use violence against their own communities to protect themselves from being arrested and grassed up. This is caused by policing drugs so to come after me for revenge doesn't fit into this model.

What is the biggest misconception people have about drugs and drug laws?

When I went into policing I thought addicts had made the mistake of trying drugs and had no willpower to stop. Actually, problematic drug users - or at least all the ones I knew - were self medicating. Most of the heroin users I knew were self-medicating for childhood trauma, whether physical or sexual. As an undercover officer I spent a great deal of time getting to know these people. The more I knew someone the more I could manipulate them. They’re like puppets. And they trusted me and saw me as a peer.

There was a young lady I met in Northampton who went by the street name Uma. She explained to me she sometimes came off heroin to bring down her tolerance but that she became suicidal because she remembered the abuse she received from her uncle. Heroin is a very powerful painkiller of the body but also the mind. To the law, she’s a criminal to the law and I as an agent of the state was there to capture people like that. But they were caught in the crossfire between the police and gangs. She quite clearly needed help. If people were prescribed heroin they would be rescued from sexual exploitation. These people are slaves to drug dealers.

When did you decide that the war on drugs was futile?

I knew that I couldn’t win early on. But I kept being tempted back into it because I was good at my job. The police departments would say ‘Woodsy, we need you. These gangsters are even nastier that the other ones. They’re burning people to death. They’re using rape as a weapon. But in Brighton they had been overusing the tactic and in very unimaginative ways. And groups were very savvy and had created perfect defences.

They used homeless people as a point of contact and they instructed them ‘you are now our dealer and if you bring anyone within view of us you will be killed and we’ll find someone else’. At the time there was the highest drugs deaths in the city per capita in the country. And homeless people were dying from overdoses. I can’t say that those overdoses were deliberate but everyone on the streets was convinced that they were. But police reports just showed up as an overdose - and what cop cares about that?

And it was because of me that organised crime was getting nasty. I was developing the tactics. I put dealers in prison for over 1000 years and I only disrupted the heroin supply for two hours. Policing can’t affect the demand so policing drugs is completely futile. I can’t emphasise that enough. More people die and it gets more violent. Drugs have got stronger and cheaper and more varied since the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971.

If criminalising drug users isn’t the answer - what is?

The answer is to regulate drugs and take the power away from organised crime. The illicit drugs market is worth £7billion a year. Our communities are ruined by organised crime intimidating populations to protect themselves so we need to regulate the drug supply like we do with alcohol.

All drugs can be harmful but cannabis is the most to young people, so we need to protect them from it. Gangsters are almost all recruited through the market because it’s where our teenagers first come into contact with organised crime. I saw one young man in an inner city go from a cheeky 17-year-old who was quite likeable to a terrifying 18-year-old in six months. He had to learn from his new team of buddies that if you want to survive you have to be completely vicious so people are scared of you. The drug market is shaping the personalities of our young men. We can only stop this by regulating drugs.

Which countries can we learn from?

I don’t advocate a free for all. In Switzerland they brought in Heroin Assisted Treatment in the 1990s. Heroin users set their dosage and receive counselling. Eventually the users decrease their dosage. And they now have less shoplifting and almost no street prostitution. And deaths from MDMA deaths are so rare because they have labs where people can test their drugs. Canada is about to regulate the market right across the country and the interesting thing is that the winning Liberal Party campaigned to regulate cannabis to protect children from crime. They won while campaigning for that. Portugal has a progressive drug policy and they have a fraction of drug deaths compared to other countries.

What do you want to see in the UK?

The most urgent is heroin assisted treatment to save lives and bring down crime. The net cast by crime and the health costs is huge. Prescribing heroin will undermine the power of organised criminals and reduce exploitation. We should regulate the cannabis market to protect our young people - this is a child protection issue. The third thing is to have organised drug testing along the lines of the Loop so we save lives of young people.