tent wars

3

It’s 120 degrees in Phoenix — and inmates at a local jail have to sleep outside

  • Phoenix is in the middle of a devastating heat wave. Temperatures nearing 120 degrees grounded flights on Tuesday, and physicians are warning of health risks associated with the heat.
  • But for some inmates in Maricopa County, there is no other option but sleeping outside, even during a heat wave.
  • In 1993, former Maricopa County Sheriff and controversial Donald Trump surrogate Joe Arpaio erected “Tent City,” an outdoor jail complex where inmates were housed in Korean War-era tents and forced to endure the harsh desert weather as part of their sentence, the New York Times reported. Arpaio once referred to Tent City as a “concentration camp.”
  • In April, Arpaio’s newly elected successor, Sheriff Paul Penzone, announced that the Tent City complex would shut down after years of criticism from human rights advocates
  • But months later — even after reports that Tent City had been dismantled — there are still inmates forced to sleep outside in tents even as the temperatures soar. Read more (6/20/17)

Our Rogue and the general of the mercenary camp they’re currently in the middle of are yelling at each and the general is getting VERY suspicious about this weird party. Things are starting to go down a very precarious a path for my lvl 3 players - I they could I not survive combat here.

Fighter: hey while they’re talking, I wanna try and stealth out the tent.

Me: …so you wanna try to stealth out, from inside this small, well-lit tent that you and your friends barely fit inside of, right beneath the nose of the guard *pointing at map* you are literally squished up against right now.

Fighter: yeah.

Me: …okay.

The fighter Nat 1’s and ends up bringing the entire heavy deer skin war tent down on top of everyone, accidentally stopping the flow of things and sort of accidentally saving the party. Anger subsiding, they are put in the barracks tent to await further questioning.

Stuff happens, and most the camp gets distracted by a commotion on the far side, leaving the party free to sneak out the slit in the fabric at the back leading them straight into the cover of the woods. Everyone’s discussing the plan and what to do after, and begin shifting their unconscious party member towards the hole.

Fighter: hey while they’re doing that, I wanna stick my head out the front and talk to the guard.

Me: you-… wait, so like, you wanna stick your head out to see where he’s at?

Fighter: no I wanna get his attention.

Me: you want to get the attention of the ONLY remaing guard at your tent, who is facing AWAY from you, and is VERY distracted with trying to see what his partner and rest of the recruits are dealing with across the camp.

Fighter: ye

Me: …OKAY

I’m pretty sure that was the first moment the rest of my players considered an alignment shift.

Union soldiers posing on sandbag fortifications and with Parrott rifles in Battery Stevens on Morris Island near Charleston, South Carolina, 1863. Battle smoke from nearby artillery fire is possibly visible in the background. By Haas and Peale.

Source: Library of Congress.

Storm

and when the storm came, with its wind and rain and biting screams… it was only the beginning to a terrible end.

Pairing: Keith and Pidge
series: Voltron: Legendary Defender
music by Olafur Arnalds


“He is not who he says he is…”

The words didn’t hit home until much later. But at this moment all she could do was curl her lips in a sneer and scoff.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Pidge’s response was a snarl and a leer, all too haughty and disdainful. “So you can take your warnings and shove it.”

“Major,” the word of protest from Rolo–the only one who seemed just as shocked at the words from the Lord Lubos–was cut short when Pidge rose from the ground swiftly and stiff. 

Without so much as a bow, Pidge turned her back on the fief lords and strode out, skirts swishing angrily around her legs as she stormed out. 

Keep reading

Gangs of the Zones

Heres the list so far (as requested by @mcrdeviantclub):

The Fabulous Four: Basically just Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid and Jet Star.

The Killjoys: Basically what you see in the comic book so Val Velocity and all that lot.  The image of rebellion. Will fight all your bullshit.  Bright hair, fucking walking targets, provocative as fuck.  They’re the fighters, the rebels, the ones facing off against the scarecrows. Dye stains on their skin. 

Crash Queens: In my head these are kind of like flashy, drag-esque, shiny, hyper colour kids.  Metallic and acidic.  Melting red lips and blue eyelids.  On speed or some strong zone weed. Always on. Awake only on the highest frequency, fucking sky-high. Shiny. 

Motorbabies: Zonerats with a need for speed and motorbikes. Travel in packs like wolves.  Short tempered and sharp teeth, but are more flight than fight. Only ever seen on the horizon in a cloud of dust or downing paint stripper. (Kobra is kind of a motor baby) Need petrol like Ritalin Kids need drugs. Theres shit between the Motorbabies and the Top Fuel Dragsters as to who can scoop out wheres the petrols at. Bandanas and gang logos are big.

Ritalin Kids: Poor buggers hyped up and addicted to BL/ind drugs. They’re eyes are all pupil, manic, only focused on the next hit.  Aggressive but fragile, desperate flirts if you’ve got the stuff. Frightened sluts. 

Top Fuel Dragsters: Fast cars and burning rubber, driving into the sunset. Kids who want to drive away and leave tire tracks. Dirty, grease everywhere. Think gas masks and helmets. Trucker bodies, but strong as hell. Will win every fight, no question. ( Jet kind of has that Dragster feel) More lone rangers than Motor babies but have a long distant comradery.  

Maggot Babies: Punk rock kids hyped up on guitar static, the shiniest drugs and each others saliva. Sleep on the floor, packed like sardines.  Hug each other to death. Bruised and battered from the pits but so fucking worth it, there wasn’t music like this in Bat City. Cut their hair themselves. The musicians.  Devote followers of Mad Gear and the Missile kid, will do anything to get to a show. Sweat. Soft kisses. 

Skeleton Souls: Runaway kids, dirt is their skin, only bone. The ones who won’t make it, they’ll fade away into the sand and starve under the sun. Sad lost dreams. Phoenix Witch’s dream angels. 

The Drooges: Gun junkies.  Baseball bats and facepaint. Only want to fight don’t want to talk. After gore.  Think the zones are about anarchy, when the zones are about freedom. Deadly snippers. Weasels. Don’t cross. Trigger happy. 

Drifters: Nomads who travel the zones. Think tents and traps and war paint. Straight talkers.  Find at the black markets.  They have all the goods. You want to trade, go to them.  Rituals. Fire. Looking at the stars.  The whispers of the desert. 


Thats all I’ve got so far.  Hope you get the feel I’m visualising for each one. Feel free to message me with ideas, head canons, bits to add :) 

3

it’s done it’s done holy fuCKING dogshit it’s done. I’ve been working on this off and on for like a week now and I’m so glad I’m d o n e. Well, there’s more I could do, but it’s finished enough to post. The Coruscant background in the first panel came from a google search that I have since lost the link for rip mea culpa.

Been working more on that Star Wars/Hannibal AU I posted some doodles from aaaaages ago. Did you know there are actual psychologists in the Jedi order? I can’t imagine they’re very good but that’s a soapbox for another time. Anyway, it seemed natural to make Darth Hannibal one while posing as a Jedi. I need to relearn how to draw Will, he looks a little Elijah Wood here and there. (Which is a riot bc I’ve never drawn Elijah Wood.)

anonymous asked:

Are you taking POV insights for ASAFAF? I've always wondered what was going through Dirk's mind in the scene in the tent, when Jake comes to reason with him. Especially since he thought that Jake had lied to him (that scene, it was so painful)

If I’m allowed to be a vain motherfucker, that scene is my favorite scene.

spoilers for ASAFAF obviously

The admittance of anyone into the war tent is unusual at this hour. Your advisors have dispersed, either to their responsibilities overseeing the camp or to their own quarters to sleep. None linger, and you know it’s for their own sakes. You are not good company these days and even your most trusted lieutenants, even some of your sparring partners, are quick to leave your presence.

You don’t blame them. It’s an untenable position, to be in the care of such a man.

The prince of broken hearts, they called you early in your reign. The boy crowned to inherit a kingdom in mourning.

Before, it was a moniker for who you were, the legacy you carried. Today, it feels like what you do. You stand with your boot against Prospit, ready to crack the ribs and splinter the delicate golden kingdom’s heart.

Not a single Dersian suggests you stay your hand. It’s your hope that means you have their support. Or perhaps their blessing would be a more accurate turn of phrase. Leveraging your own simmering fury against Prospit, aided by Derse at large, the bitter betrayal your people feel.

You’ll do it. You’ll take Prospit as the peace token repaying this broken contract.

You only hope to every god who has ever visited your dreams that you are not turning into your father. A mad king, not a king gone mad.

It’s that bruise on your spirit that you’re worrying at when someone enters your tent unannounced. That anyone would visit you is an oddity. That Noir would let them enter without warning seems an impossibility.

Until you know it’s him. It takes just a moment; his hood is up, the long cloak describing him in soft flowing lines in the candlelight, but you know him by the way he holds himself and the way he looks over the war table and its chess pieces.

It’s hard to say which he is: a rabbit lost in snake’s den, or the snake slithering into your warren.

Underneath the black glass and stone guard over your heart, there is something that wants to grab him and indulge in his mother tongue: physicality. Push him against the table, scattering all the pieces to the floor and holding him against the map. Pin him down like some treacherous butterfly.

Because you were cruel. You forced Prospit’s hand and made them give you their royal son. You did that, and yet the fact they turned on you for it gives you a precarious moral high ground built of wax and kindling.

You were cruel, but you were fair.

There is nothing fair about Jake lowering his hood and subjecting you to the sight of him in firelight.

This, you think, is what will drive you mad.

Letters (Lafayette x Reader)

Masterlist

Request Queue

Requests- “ Hey! (Love your work btw 💜) could you write a Lafayette x reader in hamiltimes using prompts 234, 303, and 320. Where the reader has been friends with the hamilsquad for awhile and things get spicy with her and Marquis” - @classyinternetmango

could i get a lafayette x reader where theyre like besties compared to the rest of the squad and theyre over at his or the readers dorm and theyre playing around, so lafayette tackles them and gets caught up in the moment by their eyes??”

234- “Oh my god! You’re in love with her!”

303- “Come over here and make me.”

320- “I’ve loved you for years.”

Words- 1,381

“Laf are you almost packed, or what?” Alexander’s voice rang through the ratty war tent. 

Oui, just a few more things.” Lafayette was hastily shoving the few items he had at battle with him into his bag. He didn’t notice as Alexander walked over to his cot. 

“Oooh are these love letters?” he said with a smirk, picking up the thick stack of letters Lafayette had saved. 

“Alexander don-” Lafayette put a hand up to stop him.

“Wait…” Alexander turned some of the letters over in his hand. “These are from Y/N…you saved every letter she wrote you?” He looked up at Lafayette who was pretending to be busy and avoiding Alexander’s question. “Oh my god. You’re in love with her!” he said disbelievingly.

Tais-toi!“  Lafayette hissed. 

“Don’t you ‘tais-toi’ me! You’re fucking in love with Y/N aren’t you?”

Lafayette looked down at the green fleece blanket he had been folding. 

“How long?” he asked softly. Lafayette glanced up at Alexander.

“How…how long have we known her?” 

“Christ Lafayette! We met Y/N years ago! This whole time?” 

Lafayette nodded. Thoughts of all the times you and him had shared flashed through his mind. All the times he’d almost told you. 

“How do you live with this?” Alexander asked.

Lafayette took the letters from him and held them to his chest. “I manage.” 

“You have to tell her.” 

Lafayette’s head snapped up. “Es-tu fou?” 

“I’m not.” 

Non. No I cannot.” Lafayette shook his head, causing several curls to bounce free from his ponytail. 

“Why not? Lafayette, nobody’s courting her right now, and we’ll see her when we return. It’s the perfect time!” 

“Alexander no.”

“You’ll go over to your house, and she’ll be so happy to see you.”

Cesser.

“You’ll take her by the hand and tell her how much she means to you and-”

“Alexander!” Lafayette shouted. “You do not think there have not been several ‘perfect times’? I could have told her when I met her! I could have told her when she stayed with me until her father returned when her mother died. I could have told her in any one of the thousands of letters I must have written to her. I did not, and I will not!” Lafayette finished, breathing heavily. Alexander stared at him blankly. Lafayette rolled his eyes and put the last of his belongings in his taupe canvas bag. 

“You’re an idiot.” Alexander said. Lafayette turned to face him. 

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Stupide.” Alexander crossed his arms. 

“Alexander.” Lafayette growled in warning. 

“Did you ever think that maybe Y/N feels the same way? That she harbors secret feelings for you too?” 

Lafayette took a step back. “I know she doesn’t. She would’ve said something.”

“Oh like you said something?” Alexander smiled. Lafayette clenched his jaw and stared daggers at him. “You can’t keep going on like this, Lafayette. What happens when she gets married?” 

Lafayette shook his head and left the tent. Alexander didn’t bring it up again on the long journey back to New York, but Lafayette hadn’t stopped thinking about it. 


You were playing the piano softly. Sunlight streamed through the window onto your hands as they floated over the keys, making up new melodies as they went. A sharp knock invaded your thoughts. Your head snapped up towards the front door. You leapt off of the piano bench and raced to the door. 

Your boys were home. 

You flung the door open. “Are you hurt?” You barely registered that it was really them before scanning for bandages or crutches. 

“We are fine.” Your stomach flipped at finally hearing Lafayette’s voice again. You squealed slightly and launched towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You heard the sound of his bags drop and felt his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. He rested his cheek on your head and you listened intently to his heart, thankful more than anything that it was still beating. 

“Please don’t leave for that long again.” you mumbled. 

“I could not bear it.” he said softly. Alexander stood the side and cleared his throat with a smirk on his face. You pulled away from Lafayette. 

“Oh Alexander! You’re alright!” You hugged him as well, but not for nearly as long. 

“Yes! How are you?” he asked with a smile. 

“I’m great! Hercules has been taking good care of me.” you explained, twirling in your dress. 

“Oh Hercules has been taking care of you, has he?” Alexander asked, looking up at Lafayette, who stared straight forward at a wall. 

“Yeah, the rest of you left me!” you said, slapping his chest. 

“He is a good friend.” Lafayette said without looking at you. You pursed your lips and nodded. 

“He is. Anyway, do you guys want some tea or something?” you asked. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I should probably go. Lafayette would love some though.” Alexander stepped out of the doorway and closed the door on Lafayette’s shocked face. 

“I’ll boil some water.” you said cheerily. 

Non, I can make it.” Lafayette said, moving towards your kitchen. 

“Are you kidding me? You just got back from war. The least I can do is make some tea for you, or is tea a sensitive topic for revolutionaries now.” you said with a coy smile. Lafayette grinned at you. 

“You are very funny, mademoiselle.” 

You smirked and walked into your kitchen, Lafayette following you. 

“So how was living with Alexander?” you asked while filling a kettle to put on the stove. 

“Ha! Let’s just say I much preferred living with you.” you heard him say behind you. You felt your heart flutter at the memories. You’d really fallen for Lafayette during that time, and the sentiments obviously hadn’t disappeared. “You need more wood.” His voice shook you from your thoughts. You turned around to see him peering in the bottom of your stove. 

“Oh…” you said.

“I will go get more.”

“No Laf  it’s fine I can do it.” you said. 

“But I am here so let me do it.” 

“You should relax. You just got back.”  You moved towards the back door. 

“Y/N, stop.” 

You smirked at him. “Come over here and make me.” 

The words had barely left your mouth and Lafayette was racing towards you. You squeaked and tried to run away, but his arms circled your waist and pulled you backwards. 

“Too easy.” he whispered in your ear. His fingers started tickling your stomach, and you doubled over with laughter. A tingling feel spread across you and you fell to the floor, unable to breathe. Lafayette laid over you and kept tickling you. 

“Laf! Please! Have mercy!” you gasped. 

“Alright.” He took his hands off of you, but you stayed trapped underneath him. You stared up at him, breathing heavily. He was a lot closer than you thought. He was just right there. He stared down at you with an equally blank expression. Clearly, he was deep in thought about something. 

“What are you thinking about?” You weren’t sure why you whispered the phrase, but it felt like the right thing to do. 

“You would not want to know.” he said softly. You sat up slightly, bringing your face closer to his. 

“I do.” You glanced down at his lips involuntarily. He took a sharp breath. 

“Y/N, I…” he trailed off. 

“Yes? You can tell me, Lafayette.” If you had to beg him to say it, you would. All you wanted was to hear him say it. 

“I….” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved for years.” 

That was all you needed to hear. You pushed yourself up and kissed him, pulling him back with you as you laid down on the ground of your kitchen. Lafayette leaned over your body with a hand on your waist and the other on top of your head. Your lips moved in synch with each other, and your heart was singing a light fluttery song, like a bird who had just woken up. 

You pulled away slightly. “Lafayette I love you too.” 

“Yes I noticed that.” Lafayette said, touching his lips lightly with his fingertips. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” you said with a smile. 

“Me also.” He winked and bent down to meet your lips again. 

~Manon and Dorian go on a Holiday~

Title: When Iron Melts
Pairing: Manorian


Dorian tapped his foot impatiently as he looked over the vast gardens along stone paths, the morning sun reflecting upon clear water, birds singing as they began their early routine. This was a holiday, the King thought to himself. So why was he feeling like a straggling ilken was going to pop up at any second and start beheading things?

He took a step back from the view, turning around to the more heavenly sight on the bed, still wrapped in silk sheets and breathing evenly. His magic lazily strolled over to the mattress, blanketing the tether to his heart in an invisible sheen, counting breaths and feeling as her own budding magic-free of the iron that bound it-tentatively grazed against his own without disturbing her sleep.

That’s how connected they were now, he mused, as his heart calmed and his anxiety died down. There was no war, no Valg or gods dictating what they would do. It was just them now. Dorian should enjoy it.

Especially because it was a rare treat to catch Manon sleeping in.

With a smile, he headed to her side, loving how the sheets pooled across her naked waist, how her hair made the white of the pillow look dull, how just her presence made him feel complete and tethered and so in love he sometimes felt the romance books he read growing up were nothing but speculations and assumptions about something the authors couldn’t grasp. Something words couldn’t describe.

He sat next to her softly, even when he knew she wouldn’t wake. His eyes took the intricate iron armlets on her upper arm, glinting even when there was no light shining upon them. Despite the fact that the rings were beautiful, he hated the darkness lurking underneath the shiny stones adorning them. The purpose they had.

He thought he could finally give a sigh of relief when Erawan was defeated, thrown into the portal along with the gods, the Valg disintegrating as soon as their master vanished into another dimension. Dorian had turned to look across the battlefield, his ears still ringing and had felt lucky. Lucky that most survived, that his closest friends had made it.

Aelin, despite the blood and gore on her, had given a hint of a smile as her two-toned eyes took in her mate-torn up in a similar fashion-but alive and breathing.

Dorian wanted his own reunion. The realization that the war was over, that he could finally have a life without violence-

His magic, what little was left, felt it before he did. The hair on the back of his neck sticking up at the build-up of something powerful and old.

Manon.

Keep reading

Essays in Existentialism: War Plans

Clarke and Lexa in the tent “planning for war” when they’re really having make out sessions.

“They will look for you,” Lexa insisted. Clarke kissed her harder to make her forget about anything happening outside of this tent.

“I told them we had to plan,” Clarke promised, pulling on her shirt.

“We’ve known the plan,” Lexa shook her head, confused at what was happening.

“They don’t know that,” Clarke nodded, capturing the Commander’s attention once more.

Keep reading

Righting Wrongs Part 2

Thanks for the positive feedback on part 1! It can be found here if you missed it. Here is part 2! Thanks again to @paperbacktrash for the feedback, especially the reactions to the character(s) I have created for this!

This follows the events after ACOWAR so there will be mentions on some of the original story in case you have not read ACOWAR yet.

Summary: Tamlin’s road to redemption. He joins forces with a familiar face and some new faces to further his goals.



Keep reading

anonymous asked:

one thing I love is the fact that the fandom's expectations of tony's and steve's roles after their fallout were reversed, with spider-man: homecoming showing tony happily getting his life together, and the infinity war teaser (tentatively) establishing steve is the one brooding with the depression beard.

I STILL HAVEN’T SEEN THE TRAILER I AM DYING ANON. D Y I N G. 

youtube

Looped sequence of four photographs taken in quick succession with a 4-lens stereoscopic camera of Union Army covered wagons on the move picking up and carrying off supplies, as well as ambulances, horses, an encampment, and docked transport vessels at Belle Plain along Potomac Creek in Virginia during the American Civil War, c. 1864. Taken by an unidentified photographer employed by Mathew Brady.

Source: National Archives and Records Administration.