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[heavydutycivilptyltd]

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[echoegyptianheritage-blog]

Day 19 - 23 August 2019 (KHD)

REFLECTIONS

Dear All,

Day off today! The shock of not being awoken at 4 by the muezzin, at 445 by Joris clambering out of bed, and at 5 by my own rather feeble phone alarm was a luxury I can’t express! The sore head caused by a fusion of clonking myself on the bonce yesterday along with the tiny (yes it was really tiny!) whisky that Marius produced made me a slow starter…but it was nice to walk out on the terrace and survey my kingdom unlike the usual shamble out of the door, swearing under my breath, that typically takes place at 545 each day.

Our house is rather grand in terms of the village in general, being made of real bricks and tile, with a boundary wall, trees and an outhouse where the displaced family who own the house are currently staying. It stands on the edge of a dust road, on the other side of which is a tiny tributary of the Nile that wanders innocently across the plain, seemingly unaware that it is responsible for watering the Delta that supported the glory of Egypt’s heyday and even now feeds the nation without raising a sweat. You wouldn't know it to look at it – it’s frankly green and has rather desperate looking fish floundering about in it, but pour this onto a sandy field and it’s ten feet high in crops in minutes. It’s really extraordinary.

The village itself is brown and grey mudbrick, with drifts of rubbish blowing over the dust, punctuated by goats, skeletal cows and mangy cats that look at you with insolent yellow eyes before melting away into the shadows if you get too close. Everyone knows us, from the old man who sits at the site of the road – I swear so he can say good morning to us as we plod off to work – to the industrious mothers carrying loads on their heads, to the dozens of children scampering off to school with huge rucksacks, pausing to shyly say hello to us and play with Tish’s braids, which they find fascinating. The posher houses are painted white, which makes the bloody handprints placed on them during Eid stand out all the more clearly, dry trickles of blood running down the gateposts. From the size of them I’d say that they were made by children.

The village bakes during the day, is dull and lifeless, the chinks of darkness at the doors betraying the family lurking inside with fans, sweltering in the midday sun, yet when evening comes the houses spring into a variety of reds, oranges and yellows, as they do in the morning when they have been washed clean by night time dew. It’s a decidedly odd, and yet magical place to work. Once we have done about four hours’ work or so at around tennish, a cry of ‘fatour’ (breakfast) goes up and we are ushered under the trees that front onto the dig hut (really a house) where two rickety tables have been set up. Sometimes we don't even bother with that, and we all throw ourselves down on a massive rug. The Egyptian women primly remove themselves to under their own tree, and are fed remotely by boys scuttling to and fro, whereas the Brits and the Egyptian men don’t stand on ceremony and pitch into the food: taamiya (felafel), fuul (beans), gibneh (cheese – both white and oddly flavoured pseudo-Edam), tomatem (guess!), basel (onions) pickles, hardboiled eggs and of course aysh – life, which is also the word for bread. On special occasions we may have a tin of tuna, or some olives. After the meal we sit under the trees while Ahmed and Mohammed take care of the tea, served in tiny glasses with tooth-janglingly large amounts of sugar, which you have to hold with great care to avoid burning your fingers, and make approving slurping noises as you drink it. You might get basbusa (little sugar cakes) as well, if Joris and the budget approve it. Then I rouse the minions before they get drowsy, and head back out into the glare of the sun for round two.

People ask me what it’s like, perhaps fondly imagining pink gins by the Nile as fellahin bring you intact pots and mummy masks…or maybe running from a giant stone ball as you escape the temple you have just robbed. Well…it’s not as Poirot or Spielberg would have you believe. The work is hard – it stretches you, because you have to dig in weird positions that I have christened digasthenics – kneeling, or on your side, or on your stomach, or hanging down into pits until the blood thunders in your ears, twisting and wriggling about because your back hurts, and your bum has gone numb, and your knees ache, and the sun burns you, and you get so hot you can’t think straight. Simple tasks like measuring and drawing become rather onerous and you find yourself making daft mistakes. The glare off the sand hurts your eyes, but your shades keep sliding off your nose in your ludicrous position so you take them off and so you end up squinting, and probably wrinkly. You’re wearing factor 50 sunscreen and it washed off in about ten minutes. You have a hat and a scarf on…except for me, who wears shorts and flip-flops against stern advice to the contrary. You remember that not only are you doing this for nothing, but you’re actually paying for the privilege. You also remind yourself of the fact that you’re a university academic, with a hundred papers to mark and theses to review and books to publish, and that when you do so you will get the same wage as an entry level McDonalds employee, if you’re lucky. You remind yourself that you’ve been doing this for 25 years. You start to question your sanity. You fantasise about air conditioning and swimming pools and long, cold drinks full of ice cubes, frosted with a million tiny droplets of condensation. You drink water by the gallon and it doesn't seem to make any difference as you’re still hot and thirsty and you’re just about to call for a taxi to take you to the airport and suddenly under your trowel appears something that hasn’t seen light of day for five thousand years. Silent bony fingers curled around each other, cradling the skull, the knees pulled up into the ribs so that – what? – the person could be born again in the next life? If you’re lucky they’re accompanied by food and goods for the afterlife as well, an immortal picnic of ceramic vessels or bones, and they were dressed in finery that is long gone but is whispered at by the laboriously produced beads and pendants made from obsidian, agate and carnelian, with which they adorned their necks, heads and wrists. You lie there, with a sudden and silent audience standing behind you, scratching away with your bamboo skewer as the body is uncovered inch by laborious inch, stained by time and elements in their long sleep underground, coming back to light of day from a time beyond imagining…and you are the first living human being to see them. Ever. When I was 18 I did this for the first time, and it seemed to me then – as, to be honest, it still seems to me now – to be a moment of absolute magic. Everything does stand still, just for a second, as you contemplate what it is, and what it means – it really puts you in your place. Or you could be back in England, having a £4 latte, plodding along under an umbrella in the freezing rain, the sky like thunder, about to have a seven pound sandwich for lunch before spending twelve quid on tubes and buses that rattle through dreary suburbs for an hour. And you thank God that you chose archaeology.

LSO

[britpop-bowie]

Introducing: my writing

So this is only the first part of the first chapter but I thought I'd test it on an audience to see how well it's received and if there's any major changes I should make. As of yet John's character hasn't been introduced but will be later, and I don't have a summary either, but I do have 1700 trial words so let's see!

Dedicated in part, if not entirely, to @freddieseyeliner

A foolish lovers game - Queen

Brian May was sat, arms up on the back of the sofa and impossibly long legs slung up on the coffee table; an impossible air of both calm and incredible energy. His hair was huge and wild and completely contrasted the tidy nature of the flat he was lounging in. “Bri you lazy fucker!” came a rousing yell from the first door on the right as a shaggy head of blond hair and half finished eyeliner was thrust around the frame; “we’ve got an hour and you’re not even ready yet!” Roger stared with his best bitch face as Brian rolled his eyes at his ever so slightly overdressed man in the doorway. “Rog, it’s just a new roommate arriving. Don’t be so overdramatic,” Roger stuck out his tongue and ducked back into the room, presumably to finish his makeup or try on a third outfit to impress their much needed new roommate. “What is he called again?” He yelled from the depths of his horrendously messy bedroom towards Brian who sighed and sifted through the pile of bills, scrap paper and empty forms to find the letter from their perspective friend.

“I think it’s uh… Eddie or uh, Freddie? Yeah, Freddie.” He read out from the piece of paper than had been annoyingly scrunched up, presumably by Roger. “Did he say anything else? I need to know what look to go for,” He shouted back rather than taking what Brian thought to be the more sensible option of having an actual human conversation not shouted through walls. “No! Why don’t you just ask him himself when he gets here?” Roger reappeared for a split second in a flurry of hair and wearing a questionably patterned blazer “don’t be a dick Bri.”

“No, no I’m not being a dick, you’re just getting too stressed out and dressed up for one human being,”

“It’s just the pleasure of getting to spend time with someone who isn’t you.”

Brian made a mental note to remember that next time Roger attempted to rope him into listening to some new song that was no doubt going to be mildly inappropriate. “Ha ha” he muttered, deadpan, before picking himself up and making his way to the kitchen to brew some tea, realising that now he too was in fact quite nervous to meet this newcomer they had decided to let live in their house without ever meeting the man first. Well, as he had said to roger, at least they knew his name and they could double check he wasn’t a murderer later, if, of course, he didn’t do the murdering before they’d had the chance. Brian was sure it could all be fine, he mostly echoed rogers belief that if they saw too much of each other they might just go absolutely crazy and so in the end it was probably best to have someone calmer to sit down and talk to rather than clean up after. The kitchen walls had some sort of awful brown paisley wallpaper that was now noticeably damp from the steam caused by the kettle, the kind of problem you would ask the landlord to fix if you weren’t late for the very first rent payment.

Whilst he waited for the kettle to boil he let his mind drift away to wonder what the new guy would be like, he knew he couldn't be worse than loving with Roger. Although he wouldn't mind at all if he wasn't, Brian secretly longed for him to be reserved and polite, the kind of person who would join in with Roger's antics but only to help Brian not be dragged into them alone. He was going to help tidy the flat, spend a maximum of an hour on hair and makeup (but no less than 15 minutes or he might just be ashamed to leave the house with him) and use a coaster for his drinks on hardwood surfaces. So maybe Brian had planned the perfect picture of a roommate in his head, that didn't mean he would be at all disappointed if he wasn't exactly the way he wanted him to be.

The whistle of the boiling water jolted him out of his train of thought; he moved from his fairly comfortable one-knee-up lounging position against the counter and poured himself a perfectly sized cup of tea, not like the weak rubbish Roger makes him, taking extra care to be spiteful and not make a second cup.

Brian added the wallpaper to his mental list of things to be done (now scraping the floor) and grabbed his mug of tea managing to only slightly scald his hands. He had just enough time to reread the course specification and allocate ten minutes to existential panic or song writing, the perfect hour to wind down before-

there was a loud and rhythmic knock causing Roger to screech and Brian to spill half a cup of scalding tea all down his white trousers at his own dismay.

Early. Of course he had to be early, he couldn't be late or on time or five minutes either way but no, he just had to be early. This Freddie guy had better be worth a trip into the city and £5 he really didn't have on him to spend on new trousers. And so approaching was the whirlwind of a man, Freddie Mercury!

As Brian opened the door with a painful slowness, he seemed to fill it almost instantly amidst the odd apology for the obscene amount of luggage he held. His hair was long and silky to go with the fashion, his clothes were too; bright and sparkly and all the right curves in all the right places. But of course the most noticeable thing about his bizarrely foreign face was his teeth. Brian felt awful for looking as Freddie hurried to remove his smile and cover up his overbite, nodding to an ever more amused Brian. It was plain to see that he was beautiful and a one of a kind mix of energy and reservedness. He was exciting and he was certainly making an impression.

“Bloody Hell Bri, I thought we had ages left why didn't you tell me he was here!” Roger reappeared for the last time with a slightly more even eyeliner and a sudden look of awe on his face. “Well- uh… I'm Roger and you're… not what I was expecting,” he let out a soft chuckle as he too made the mistake of keeping his eyes on Freddie's teeth for longer than was polite and longer than Freddie was keen on. He shrugged it off by turning to his bags, lifting two of the four over his shoulders and proclaiming “which one's mine then dear?”

Freddie Mercury had never felt so far from home, he was sure the boys were nice, they had promise, but they weren't his- not yet at least. Every few minutes of throwing his clothes into a pile in the wardrobe he had to pick out a particularly glam item and look in the mirror just to remind himself that no matter how far away from everything he knew, he was Freddie Fucking Mercury and he was here to be big. He looked in the mirror and somehow (with the addition of a swig from his handy travel gin) he could see a talented musician, an artist and a man who was going to be amazing and happy and bright… if only he waited just a few weeks to find that in this room rather than the one next to Kash's.

When his two gym bags, one suitcase and one shoulder purse for men were empty and the contents happily strewn across the floor he made the journey out into the living room. There was Brian, who he noticed was largely taller than the other (who he assumed must be Roger) and had much more of a sensible air to him; although ,of course, an air of sensibility really didn't mean anything about a man's character.

Brian appeared to be making a cup of tea, so naturally he asked for one before throwing himself down on the sofa and allowing his robe to fall of his shoulders and reveal his scandalous silk shirt to flash over his chest like the rich showing off their posh tablecloth. “Of course mate. Roger might get one too if he gets off his arse!” He called the second part into the midst of the flat hoping that Roger would finally take it upon himself to leave the room properly and massively impose himself as usual. Thankfully the promise of tea and new company redirected the man's entire body out of the door, leaving it wide open behind him.

Now that this was Freddie's first proper impression of Roger he had to say firstly that he was impressed and secondly that he would be borrowing that blazer the moment Dog's back was turned. The pink suspenders too if he wasn't careful; if he kept on dressing like this he would have to start calling him Rainbow, it was a darned sight less boring than 'Roger’ anyhow. “Tea please Bri!” He quipped, grabbing the mug just as Brian finished pouring and leaving a shocked and disappointed stare at his back. Putting his leg up against the doorframe he said “I'm Roger.”

“Yes ,darling, you said, I hope you're usually more talented at conversation,” Freddie fired back, leaving just enough joyful enthusiasm so as to not alienate he flatmates with the first sentence.

Brian squeezed past a stunned Roger and placed himself on the other side of the frame: “I like him.” Roger grimaced and gave Brian a grin and then a gentle but malicious shove; Freddie watched from the sidelines, smiling with only a hint of regret at his clear face.

“So then Freddie, what makes you tick?” Roger posed as he flicked through the book Brian had just thrown onto the table. “Me? Oh everything and anything, find me the right tune and I'll hum along,” Roger seemed fairly contented with that answer, awarding it a small nod. But before he could respond Brian had leant out of his sofa corner and turned to Freddie, “but really, what sort of things do you like? I haven't even asked what course you're doing?”

“Oh well if you must know its graphic art or something of the sort,” he laughed lightly gesturing away in an attempt to avoid any intense conversation he was sure he wasn't prepared for. “Don't ask me all the questions, tell me something about you?”

[mainly-kpop]

The sound of rain

A typical Thursday evening. Nothing exciting and nothing interesting planned for the night ahead, she stepped out the car locking it quickly behind her and running up to the front door. Fumbling with her keys for a second before finally pushing it in and opening the door as fast as she could. She shook a little shrugging the cold off silently cursing herself for not thinking about bringing a jumper to work today. Placing her bag down at the front door and kicking the old worn shoes off she trudged her way through the empty house.

It's not like it was fully empty, she had a lot of stuff, it was just lonely. It felt colder when it was only her body heat to warm the bed at night, the small house felt bigger when it was just her footsteps echoing through the rooms. She let out a loaded sigh raising her eyebrows looking at the mess she had left behind last night. It was just a movie night alone but she didn't feel like cleaning after and just went to bed deciding a full night's rest was more important. Realistically she didn't fall asleep until about 3am anyways.

Walking straight past the mess she head straight to the bathroom to wash off the day, the hot water hits her skin as she let out a sharp hiss feeling pain for a second before relaxing into it.

After some life debating and a mini concert she leaves the warmth of the shower wrapping her body in a towel and stepping into the bedroom. The rain was pouring down by now and she was thanking her lucky stars for letting her finish slightly early today and avoid this storm. The rest of the night should be spent tidying she knows that it's a mess, It's disgusting truthfully. But she can't bring herself to touch any of it. 'I'm off tomorrow ill do it tomorrow' she would tell herself.

She was about to settle down between the mess when a sharp and urgent knock echos through the entire house. The noise caused a furrow of her eyebrows as she places her phone down stepping up to the door standing taller on her tiptoes pressing her nose to the door, forcing her light brown eyes onto the peephole. On the other side she spots her rather attractive neighbour Jin. He looked positively soaked, hair falling over his forehead matted together with the rain he was shivering and had no jacket on, the brown of his eyes glowing under the light above her door, the shape of his lips pulling her in as they shivered as his teeth chattered. Her eyes widening suddenly as she realised she had been looking at him for a solid minute and still hadn't opened the door. He knocked one more time startling her slightly, she unlocked the door and opened it up looking him up and down. The t-shirt he was wearing clinging to his form as the rain fell. The man was built any one with eyes could see that.

'um hi I'm Jin, your neighbour I left my house keys at work do you mind if I come in for a minute?' She blinked a couple of times and frowned slightly before nodding and stepping aside.

She was as antisocial as they came, so when she moved to the neighbourhood 3 months ago there was minimal effort to meet and greet anyone, one woman from down the street came to welcome she never opened to door up, the thought of being forced into joining a book club or a bake sale glued her to the couch until she was sure they were gone. However, he seemed different, not like he was going to ask her to be part of his Christmas decoration plans or something. She closed the door locking it quickly behind her and turned to look at him once more hoping he will speak before she had to.

'so umm do you want like a towel or something?' She choked out after a minute of silence and awkward shuffling. He looked up at her and smiled one of relief, he nodded and she took that as a cue to go search for one.

Leaving the room she caught the mess of the living room in the corner of her eye and internally screamed at herself for being so damn lazy. She grabbed the first dry towel she could find and began walking quickly back to him with it in her hands hoping he hadn't ventured further than her hallway. Walking back she saw him exactly where she left him, good the boy has manners. She Handed it to him eyeing up the pink fabric he smiles gratefully as he began running it through his hair gently drying the ends and sorting it back into place.

'I'm sorry I feel so bad barging in here when we haven’t officially met but I saw your lights on. I figured it was either here or Barbra down the street.' the way he shuddered when he mentioned the neighbour made her nothing but curious.

'Whats so bad about Barbra?' She questioned quietly, they had both been standing in the hall awkwardly to scared to talk to each other for whatever reason. She desperately wanted to invite him in properly but she knew the state of her living room and it was throwing her off. He let out a loud laugh at her question quieting down slightly as he saw her jump about a foot in the air at the sudden loud noise bouncing off the plain walls.

'sorry, nothing particularly is wrong with her per say, she would just have alot of questions, want to feed me, have me stay the night, have me sleep in her bed and not like any of that would be a problem, ever, it would be lovely, however Barbra is... Well she's something else entirely...' He shuddered again thinking of what may have happened if she hadn't answered his knocks, she on the other hand, couldn't help but wonder if it was Barbra that knocked on her door 3 months ago. She shrugged off the thought, not like it mattered anyway.

'sounds like someone has a crush on you Jin, I'm y/n by the way, it's nice to finally meet a neighbour.' She blushed not sure whether or not she was lying, she was happy he was so charming but was she happy he was here? She would rather he brought pizza that's for sure. He spoke her name a couple times over testing how it felt on his tongue, he liked the feeling of it rolling out his mouth, she had a different effect on him he wasn’t sure he liked yet.

'do you want like maybe a change of clothes? I can dry those for you if you like?' she suggested. Of course it was all a ploy to tidy the room they would eventually settle into, he knew that, he had checked the room out quickly as she went to get the towel. He chuckled to himself when he saw it.' mine isn't much better' he thought to himself. He nodded giving her the time she wanted and followed her closely through the halls like a lost puppy. She walked into the bedroom thanking herself for not leaving knickers or a bra on the floor. She stepped into the room and he stopped in the doorway waiting for approval to step in.

'you can come in I won't pounce on you I swear.' she smirked. He blushed lightly looking around her room for a place to pop himself until she gave him what he so desired, dry clothes of course. He stepped into the room and placed the towel on the corner of the bed so he wouldn't dampen it with his soaked jeans he sat down on top of it watching intently as she rummage through her things.

Jin had seen her about and recognised her face but had never plucked up the courage to come and talk to her. He thought she always seemed so reserved, and private he didn't want to step In on her life uninvited, but she was beautiful. He would find himself thinking about her day to day life, just normal things like who her best friend was, and did she get along with her family. Where she worked and if she even enjoyed it. He also thought a lot about what it would feel like to be cuddled up next to her, what her breath would feel like against his skin or how her perfect length nails would gently trail down his chest and-

'I think these should fit they were my brothers and hes about your size I think?' She spoke internal monologue falling from her plush lips as she mumbled just enough for him to hear. She handed him the clothes and he smiled gratefully. She left the room quickly and left him to get changed.

Her eyes quickly swept over the mess in the living room picking up rubbish and throwing it in one of the many supermarket bags she had stashed under the sink. She threw as much as she could in the bags and shoved them behind the bins in the kitchen. Jin still hadn't come through yet so she went to check on him. She heard his voice from down the hall he sounded mad maybe stressed, clearly on the phone to someone.

'you cant or you won't? Tae I swear I'll break your legs for this, you really won't bring me them? Oof, you're really the worst Co worker I've ever had. Yeah yeah see you tomorrow you brat' he hung up the phone and sighed. Tae was useless truthfully and whole heartedly useless, he had told him about his hot neighbour and now wished he hadn't. Taes reasoning for not bringing the keys was because a man should get what he needs and jin needed her. Jin huffed out a loud sigh and threw himself back on the bed he had changed his bottoms and moved the towel. He removed his shirt throwing it in the pile with the rest of the damp clothes picking up the t-shirt she had left him he turned his back to the door when he heard it creek open slowly.

Jin slipped the t-shirt over his head quickly before turning back around to face her still pulling it over his torso. She quickly glanced at his abs before turning to look at the ground slightly embarrassed.

'I uh would you like me to um take them for you I can uh wash and dry them' she stuttered out exasperated. He let out a small chuckle and picked up the clothes handing them to her with a kind smile. He didn't care she was checking him out, it gave him the confidence he needed to continue what he could of this night. If they were going to be stuck in a storm it may as well be fun. She took the clothes from his hands walking out the room into the kitchen putting the wash on.

'I was going to order pizza if you want some?' She spoke nonchalantly turning around to face him, She had not a care whether he wanted some or not. She wanted pizza before and still craved it now, him saying no would not change her mind. He shrugged, belly rumbling quietly under his borrowed shirt, it fit him well, comfortable and something he may actually wear in future. 

'sure I could go for pizza.' He smirked following her to a much cleaner living area than before, she plopped down comfortably on the couch, he paused for a moment before he scooted in beside her, he let a smile pull at the corners of his mouth as she froze when their knees brushed gently against each other. 

She didn't have a thing for him, she couldn’t. She could admit he was a beautiful man, towering above her like a building, shoulders so wide it was unbelievable yet a waist so small even her little arms could touch if she hugged him. So sweet and kind hearted but yet she could sense something deeper lingering behind his smiles and bright eyes, something she believed she would never find out. He was an enigma, to put it simply. One she wanted to learn about, but she definitely did not have a thing for him, not after just meeting him.

They sat close arguing over pizza toppings, they decided it was probably best to order a half and half. She never ate all that much, therefore there would be no point in ordering more than one. Her half would be pepperoni, she was a sucker for a classic, and his would be some peppers and random meats. She shuddered at the thought of peppers and placed the order paying for a couple sides too.

'how much did it come to?' he questioned pulling out his wallet checking how much cash he had in the back pocket. She looked at him and placed her hand over the wallet signalling for him to put it away.

'I was getting pizza anyway, whether you wanted it or not, so you're not paying. My treat I guess.' She smiled wholeheartedly at him, a full genuine smile. He looked at her amused and bewildered placing his wallet safely back in his pocket. He sunk down slightly into the couch getting more comfortable, he glanced over at her to see she was already looking intently at his face. He took hers in properly. She had deep brown eyes that reflected the low light of the room turning them more into small pools of honey, her long eyelashes cascade over her cheeks as she blinked gently. A gentle pink danced across her cheeks as she gently pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and her untamed eyebrows knitted together causing small lines to appear on her face.

'Do you want to watch a movie while we wait for the pizza?' She spoke clearing the tension, He snapped out his thoughts as her soft tone broke the silence. He smiled and nodded as she walked over to the tall stack of disks piled in the corner.

'I have everything I like most on Dvd I'm sorry it must seem really old fashioned with all this "Netflix and chill" stuff going on now.' She spoke fingers gliding gently over the spines of the boxes, his eyes danced in joy at her little confession.

'no I get it I'm the same, I prefer "DVD and take the D" anyways seems more interesting' His voice has a humour to it that she couldn't help but smirk at. He spotted the smirk out the corner of his eye and burst out laughing. She smacked his side gently before laughing along with him. His eyes scrunched up tightly and she spotted the laugh lines along his eyes. She was pulled in ever so quickly into everything he was, the contagious laugh falling out of his plush lips quickly and unfiltered. His head tilted back and his arms clasped over his chest like he's holding his own self together. Her laugh stopped slowly as she listened to his happiness smiling fondly at the man she had only just met, falling more and more as he got comfortable around her.

His laugh slowed slightly into a light sigh. He wiped stray tears away from the sides and looked down at her smiling. 'how about disney?' He spoke gently as if he hadn't just been pissing himself laughing for a whole 2 minutes. She frowned slightly slowly remembering what they were doing before, She moved to the part of the pile to where she had placed all the disney movies looking through them before pulling out her favourite.

'Peter pan? Is that real people? That's not Disney!' He protested sulking slightly, she dramatically sighed before smacking his arm with the case.

'This, you uncultured swine, is my favourite movie in the history of the world. Even more than Harry Potter and I know those damn movies off by heart. I dare you to watch this and not cry. I DARE you.' He looked down at her eyebrow raised, he rolled his eyes dramatically before nodding at her. She squealed excitedly before placing the dvd into the player and getting comfortable beside him. She watched the movie previews, that was something Jin found rather interesting.

'why are we watching the previews? This movie is years old, you must have seen these before?' he questioned so inquisitively it made her heart leap. He asked questions that no one ever asked, questions she may or may not have a decent answer to but for him, she would think of one.

'I don't know really, maybe I just like seeing what was out at that time, maybe I'm crazy and just like torturing you, or maybe I don't want to start the movie until the pizza comes.' She shrugged and smirked at him. He nudged her chuckling.

'sarcasm, how original, but for real why do you watch them?' She thought about it properly before actually answering wanting to give a decent answer and not just be a prick about it.

'it's nostalgic when it's an old movie I watch, I watched alot of movies when I was young, it's all I really did. So sometimes when I watch an old movie I like watching what movies came out around that time, it sets me up for the movie a head, I dunno it must sound stupid... ' she trailed off looking down. He placed his finger under her chin lifting her gaze back up to his. She took in his eyes. Brown like chocolate, and sparkling slightly with humour and happiness, she was drawn in and couldn't snap her gaze away. She felt his fingers leave her face but her gaze never faltered.

'it's cute, I want to learn more about you... You fascinate me.' He spoke so gently she thought she may have imagined it. Her eyes searched for some sign, but he gave nothing away. She could feel him leaning in. His breath fanning her face, noses ghosting over each other, eyes fluttering closed gently and ever so slowly.

The doorbell broke them out of the moment as he sprung back quickly and she cleared her throat and moved off the couch straight into the hallway. The living room door closed behind her as she reappeared with a couple boxes in her hands, the smell of the pizza wafting through the small room. She placed them down on the small coffee table and opened up the boxes. They sat down on the floor together legs crossed as she played the movie.

'I understand now.' He spoke a couple hours later. They had finished the pizza and moved back onto the couch. His arm casually thrown over the back of the couch behind her shoulders, her legs crossed knee sitting casually on his upper thigh. Looking at them you would think they had known each other for years, been best friends since preschool, dating since forever, child hood sweethearts if you will. You wouldn't belive he was dying to confess and she was beyond oblivious. He dramatically wiped a fake tear off his cheek sniffling loudly. She rolled her eyes at him but chuckled slightly at his exaggeration.

'I told you it was a good movie you're just uneducated.' She huffed turning the credits off turning to face him waiting for his actual thoughts on her favourite film.

'No you're right it was a really good film. The uh "I do believe in fairies" part really almost did make me cry.' She raised her fist in success, he smiled fondly at her as she turned back around turning the player off and flicking onto the channels.

'why don't you look for something to actually watch and I'll go put these boxes out.' He smiled at her and took the control out of her hand. It was getting late by this point, she pottered down the hall to the cupboard and pulled out a couple spare pillows and a cover tucking them under her arms and bringing them into the living room. She placed the pillows by the arm rest and threw the cover over the two of them.

'The kardashians? Really? Out of all the shows, that's what you choose?' He placed his hand over his heart truly offended.

'I enjoy drama I'm not part of what can I say.' He lay down on the couch placing his legs comfortably over her pulling the cover over him completely. She fixed the cover over his feet covering them, he was a tall man sleeping on the couch may be slightly uncomfortable for him. He tapped her side causing her head to turn around fast, she winced at the pain in her neck before looking towards him properly.

'come cuddle you don't look comfortable.' He held his arms out for her as she blushed crimson laying down mainly to hid the promanant colour on her cheeks, her heartbeat quickened and her hands became clammy. His breathing hitched slightly as she placed her hand all too casually on his lower stomach, dangerously close to the waistband of the borrowed bottoms. He gripped her shoulder slightly tighter as he felt blood rush to the one area he didn't need it to right now, he tried to ground himself as much as he could without making his sudden predicament too obvious. She tried to concentrate on the ramblings of the kardashians, she really tried. But she felt everything he was trying to hide

His breathing became unsteady and erratic, his position shifted a couple of times, the more he shifted the further her hand would casually fall, the more her hand would fall the more she could feel it moving, him trying to control it. If she wasn't feeling a fuzzy feeling herself she would laugh at his internal struggle.

His body tensed as he felt her nails subconsciously drag across his skin, lingering on the waistband momenterally before she snuggled in closer letting out a small yawn as she slipped her hand under his shirt and rested it on his breast bone, nails carefully tracing patterns into his skin, the sexual frustration he felt before melted away. He looked down slowly at her careful not to disturb her in any way. Her eyes fluttered closed giving into how tired she felt, she knew she should get up and go to bed, give the man the couch to himself, he didn't want to cuddle up with her all night, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't be arsed moving, so the beautiful neighbour would just have to deal with it. He leaned down and left the smallest most gentle kiss on the top of her head. She stirred slightly and let out a gentle moan, he smiled before turning off the TV and the small lamp behind them plunging them into darkness.

'goodnight y/n, I may leave my keys at work more often.' He closed his eyes slowly drifting off to sleep hand resting gently over hers on his chest.

[adventuresloane]

S Can’t stand the Rain by The Rescues “I’ve got pots and pans all scattered round’ the bedroom, I’d empty them out but why? No one left for me to straighten the place for nothing left to do but cry. “ Maybe Magnulia?

“Jules,” he said as he held the ladder, “you’re making me nervous.”

She threw her head back laughing, which didn’t help his feeling any. As she did so, the ladder rocked backward, and he tightened his already strained grasp around the rough wooden frame. She didn’t seem to notice, still standing on her toes at the very top of the thing to reach the ceiling. “Need I remind you that less than two months ago I took out three of Kalen’s mansion guards with a wooden spoon?”

“A spoon that you sharpened into a shiv.”

“So?”

“I’m just saying, you had the advantage of a stabby weapon. It’s not like you beat them to death with a plain old unsharpened spoon or anything. Now that would’ve been impressive.”

“Oh, fuck off!” She threw down a handful of plaster at him, which he narrowly dodged. “The point is if I can handle that, I can handle fixing the leak!”

“Hmph…you should at least let me help. I restored that whole roof when we first moved in, remember? The house is my baby.”

“And I replaced all the doors! It’s our baby, Mags.”

He tried switching tactics. “Which is why you should let me handle this! You’ve done so much for the place already!”

“Tell you what,” she giggled. “When we have an actual baby of the screamy variety, you can take over the work from me whenever you feel like it.”

He sighed in defeat, although he felt a soft smile spreading across his features as he looked up at her, her strong calves flexing as she worked to balance. 

“Think I’m just about done anyway.”

“Good,” he said. “It’ll be nice to get all these pots out of here.” He glanced around at the cookware, copper and steel shining like new, which it was. They had received a slew of kitchen supplies from Steven on their wedding day, to stock their new house. Most of it was now occupied in catching the drops that fell from the soggy ceiling of their bedroom. 

“Yeah, we can finally sleep without hearing all that drippi–oh!”

It happened in an instant. She tipped backwards off the ladder, knocking it into the wall. Without another thought, Magnus held out his arms to grab her before she fell. The sudden weight made him stumble back and sent them both flopping backwards onto the groaning bed, her sprawled on top of him. 

For a moment, they were frozen. Her eyes of solid, bright yellow were wide as they met his, processing what had just happened. His foot was wet, he realized as the momentary panic receded from his mind. And he had heard a metallic clang. One of the pots had been knocked over and spilled. 

After a moment, her expression narrowed into a glare. “Don’t say it.”

He gave her a grin that he hoped looked like a shit-eating one. “Say what?” he asked innocently. “Don’t say, ‘I told you s–’”

“Stop it! Don’t you dare!”

He laughed loudly and sat up, pulling her into his lap as he did. Her face, scrunched into a pout, slowly loosened up into a smile to match his own as he buried himself in the thickness of her brown hair. His kisses fell on her all over, on her cheek, on the horns that curled up from the crown of her head, on her nose, on her neck, on her lips. 

After the body was removed, he began to overturn the splintered wooden boards and shingles to see what he could find. Nothing had gotten out entirely unscathed, but a few things were salvageable. A pair of tongs with one of the handles broken off. A window curtain burned at only one edge. A door hinge, covered in ash. 

Pots, hardly used, now dented, their shine dulled by the dirt on them. He picked the pot up and prepared to shove it into his pack. And then he set it slowly back down on top of the rubbish. He didn’t want to carry any more of this with him than he already had to. 

((Thank you for asking!!!))

No longer taking requests for this meme.

[afrosocialism]

Crimes of the US Presidents

CW: mention of sexual abuse, slavery, theft, imperialism, colonialism, war crimes, anti-black/brown/indigenous violence/policies, repression, racism, xenophobia, overthrows, invasions, and police violence.

Hey y’all, I intended to do this list on Presidents Day, but I didn’t. Anyway, I’m going to list every crime that every President did because all Presidents are guilty of crimes. Here’s the list.

1-5) The first five aka The so called founding fathers - Created this nation by enslaving Africans and the theft of Indigenous land. Owned huge number of slaves. Thomas Jefferson owned over 600 slaves, and raped one of them (15 yo Sally Hennings). Some of them supported the colonization of Liberia. They were also horribly capitalist, racist, and sexist.

6) John Quincy Adams - Nothing great about him. Moving on

7) Andrew Jackson - A genodical slave owning fuckface. Responsible for the Trail of Tears, forcing many Native tribes of their land. Got involved in wars that removed Natives from their land, including the Seminole Wars. Owned slaves and supported it.

8. Martin Van Buren - Continued Jackson’s Indian Removal policy and did nothing to stop slavery and owned some slaves.

9) William Henry Harrison - His reign was too damn short. So nothing about him, although he did participate in the Indian Wars before he was president.

10) John Tyler - Theft of Texas from Mexico. Owned slaves and didn’t stop slavery and was okay with it. A forgettable name tho.

11) James K Polk - Continued the theft of Mexico through the Mexican American War. Was a huge slaveowner and supported it and used the territory from Mexico to expand slavery. Asshole.

12) Zachary Taylor - another short run, but was a slaveowner and supported it (the last president to own slaves during his presidency). Also was a General in the Mexican-American War. Nothing great about him. Another forgettable one.

13) Millard Fillmore - Wanted to expand slavery to the new territories stolen from Mexico. Enacted the Fugitive Slave Act that criminalized slaves that escaped from their owners.

14) Franklin Pierce - Continued the enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Act. Wanted to push slavery in Northern territories via the Kansas–Nebraska Act which also pushed Indigenous land off their territories. This caused a violent conflict between pro and anti slavery forces, preceding the Civil War. He continued the theft of Mexican land and tried to steal Cuba to make a slave state.

15) James Buchanan - Did nothing to stop slavery and defended the Dred Scott case. He also wanted Kansas as a slave state. Another forgettable name.

16) Abraham Lincoln - Now here’s some good stuff. But first, the Civil War was fought over slavery, not over that states rights bullshit. Anyway, the so called Great Emancipator was a far cry from what he is seen as. He never gave a damn about freeing slaves, his actions were plain opportunistic. He said he would preserve the Union without freeing a slave and don’t believe in rights for black people. He also planned to put freed black people on Liberia as an attempt to recolonize em. Another thing, the 13th Amendment never fully abolished slavery as slavery could be legal as a crime, which was instrumental in creating mass imprisonment and the influx of private and state prisons. He also ordered the massacre of Dakota Indians after an uprising by them. Racist as hell. The Great Lie. That’s what he is.

17) Andrew Johnson - One of the worst presidents ever, if you can say that as all presidents ain’t shit, Johnson’s incompetence and his attempts to veto any rights for black people got him impeached. He wanted to re-slave and recolonize black people (he tried to vetoed the 13th and 14th Amendment). He also owned slaves, which probably caused his thinking. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

18) Ulysses S Grant - Even though he pushed hard on the Reconstruction, improved rights for black people, Jews, and Natives, and criminalized the KKK, he was a corrupt fool who had a number of corruption cases that weakened the Reconstruction. He also tried to claim Santo Domingo (now Dominican Republic). He was the last president known to own chattel slaves, although he freed his, despite his family still owning slaves.

19) Rutherford B Hayes - He was the final nail to the coffin of the Reconstruction as he pulled troops out of the South, letting the racist as fuck Southern Democrats take over. This intensified racial violence and discrimination against black people such as lynchings and voter suppression. He was the one that created the Dawes Act, that enforced assimilation on Indigenous people and them losing any ownership of their land. He also sent troops crushed a railroad strike (the Great Railroad Strike of 1877). Did nothing about the corruption, labor conditions, and wealth inequality during the Gilded Age.

20) James A Garfield - Another short one. Nothing great. Moving on.

21) Chester A Arthur - Signed a law targeting Chinese immigrants and citizens as they were blamed for low wages and unemployment. Did nothing about the rampant anti-blackness going on. He also continued the assimilation policies of Indigenous people and the theft and blockade of their land. Also did nothing about what’s going on during the Gilded Age.

22 & 24) Grover Cleveland - Did nothing about the poor labor conditions of the workers and let capitalists multiply their wealth while letting workers suffers. Sent troops to quell the Pullman Strike, which resulted in the imprisonment of socialist Eugene Debs. Also did nothing about the anti-blackness in this country. Continued anti-Chinese policies. A fave among libertarians. I can see why.

23) Benjamin Harrison - Let the Wounded Knee Massacre Happened with many Lakota Indians being massacred in order to destroy the Ghost Dance movement. Also supported assimilation of Natives. Supported the colonization of Hawaii after the Kingdom was overthrown by American missionaries and plantation owners. Also did nothing about anti-blackness and the robber barons. Continued anti-immigration policies.

25) William McKinley - Now we’re getting into the big imperialism. Finally colonized Hawaii as a part of the US. Took Puerto Rico, Cuba, Philippines, and Guam from Spain, transitioning power from one colonizer to another one. He also sent troops to China to quell the Boxer Rebellion, which resisted cultural imperialism and colonialism from missionaries and other colonial interests. Also did nothing about anti-blackness.

26) Theodore Roosevelt - Progressives favorite president was a big ass imperialist. But Square Deal, trust busting… yeah he regulated businesses and put out many social reforms, but as an attempt to quell any revolutionary changes. Anyway, increased military presence in the Philippines leading into the Philippine-American War, which was responsible for the deaths of many Filipinos. Expanded the Monroe Doctrine, which the US the right to intervene in Latin America aka imperialism. Took control of Cuba after briefly giving it independence and Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, and Panama too. Targeted anarchists, socialists, poor and disabled immigrants, and sex workers with another anti-immigration law. He okayed the discharging of black soldiers after they were accused of Brownsville Raid, ya know black people were accused of harming wite people at the time and were killed because of it. Never cared about black people. Hated Natives and once said a good Indian is a dead one. After his presidency, he killed around 11,000 animals that were Indigenous to Africa for a fucking Museum. So much for being progressive.

27) William Howard Taft - Didn’t care about black lives. Sent troops to try to stop the Mexican Revolution as he was a supporter of Mexican dictator Porfirio Diaz. He also planned a coup against Nicaragua.

28) Woodrow Wilson - A despicable name who is another fave of progressives. An extremely racist motherfucker. He support segregation, banned black people from Princeton when he was President over there, and was pro-wite supremacist and played the pro KKK film Birth of a Nation in the White House. He also occupied Veracruz, Mexico and tried to quell the Mexican Revolution which also include the attempted capture of revolutionary Pancho Villa. He also invaded Dominican Republic and Haiti, the former led to the rise of DR dictator Rafael Trujillo. He got the country into WWI, getting the country into a war that had nothing to do with it. He started the Espionage Act and the first Red Scare which targeted socialists, anarchists, unionists, and anyone who opposed the war. Continued Teddy’s anti immigration policies. A fucking fascist is what he was.

29) Warren G Harding - Another corrupt motherfucker. Privatization of multiple industries and implemented tax cuts for the rich and corporations. Let wage cuts happened and oil preserves be control by private oil companies. Let corrupt officials in his government. Possible member of the KKK, and barely did anything for black lives. He was a terrible person.

30) Calvin Coolidge - Continued the capitalist policies of Harding. Refused farm subsidies. Didn’t do nothing for the black victims in the Great Mississippi Flood and let em suffer. Signed an anti-immigration bill. Sounds like something familiar that would happen almost 80 years later.

31) Herbert Hoover - While he’s known for his mishandling of the economy which was the final nail to the coffin that led to the Great Depression, he refused to sign any anti-lynching laws, favoring the interests of the Southern whites. He also put black victims of the aforementioned flood in poor conditions in the camp during his Vice-Presidency.

32) Franklin D Roosevelt - Here’s another progressive fave I’m gonna expose. But muh New Deal and Second Bill Rights… I don’t give a shit. The New Deal existed to save capitalism and not to radicalize the country. Most progressive reforms existed to preserve and maintain the capitalist system. Also, black people faced restriction and discrimination from the New Deal programs. Refused to sign an anti-lynching bill. Supported dictatorships in Latin America like Batista (Cuba), Trujillo (DR), and Somoza Sr.(Nicaragua). Let banks finance Hitler. Only went to WW2 after Japan attacked Pearl Harbor because he froze trade towards Japan, which was a huge mistake trading with Japan. His administration planned creation for nuclear weapons. Put anyone of Japanese descent into concentration camps. Some progressive.

33) Harry S Truman - Committed one of the worst crimes in history. Nuked Hiroshima and Nagasaki, which was responsible for many deaths over there. Help kickstart McCarthyism in America, one of the most repressive eras in America that targeted any radical leftist and even caused the downfall of some of them (ie Paul Robeson). Not only that, he’s instrumental in starting the wide support for brutally oppressive dictators and overthrowing popular leaders that would follow later presidents. He also help form the CIA. Supported Chiang’s repressive KMT government in Manila China and Taiwan (ROC). Helped in trying to stop revolutions in Greece and Turkey. Started the Korean War, which resulted in the death of multiple Koreans, the destabilization of DPRK (North) and the rise of multiple dictators in ROK (South). He also flirted with being a member of the KKK prior to being a president.

34) Dwight D Eisenhower - The OG of hardcore American imperialism. He continued the McCarthyist policies of targeting socialists and communists and let COINTELPRO exist, which was responsible for the repression and destruction of many black and brown revolutionary movements and targeted other black and brown activists. He also used McCarthyist policies against LBGT people. He supported repressive dictators like Francisco Franco (Spain), Chiang Kai Shek (ROC), Ngo Dinh Diem (South Vietnam) and Fulgencio Batista (Cuba). Supported France in maintaining control of their colony of Vietnam, and suppressing the Viet Minh revolution led by Ho Chi Minh, sparking the Vietnam War. Let the CIA plan coups in Iran and Guatemala, resulting in the power of the Shah Reza Pahlavi and the rise of military dictatorships in Guatemala respectively. Ordered the assassination of Congolese prime minister Patrice Lumumba. Tried to overthrow Cuba after Batista was overthrown by Fidel Castro and the Cuban Revolution. He was too chickenshit to come to Castro after he went to the US. Equally loved by liberals and conservatives and I see why.

35) John F Kennedy - Not good ole JFK! He was set up the USA! But Jack got blood on his hands too. He fully got the country into Vietnam, supporting South Vietnam and continuing one of the most unpopular and deadly wars, a war that existed to maintain colonialism and imperialism in SE Asia. Not only that, he tried to overthrow Castro in the Bay of Pigs invasion, which almost got the country involved in a nuclear war with the USSR and Cuba. Also planned a coup in Iraq, which resulted in the Ba’athists taking. Not only all of this, he let the COINTELPRO spy, target, and harass black activists, including Martin Luther King Jr., who Kennedy pretended to be his friend. He played a lot of civil rights and Black Power activists. Malcolm X saw through his game and critiqued the March of Washington as a farce to control any black activism and radicalism. He’s also instrumental in the long term goal of the Democrats and liberals manipulating black people to support him. So much of him being a good president.

36) Lyndon B Johnson - The fucking manipulator. Continued the repressive policies of the COINTELPRO and Mccarthyism. Even tho they also targeted (via spying, wire tapping, and harassment) anti-war and communists and socialists, their main targets were the black activists and radicals. He targeted MLK after he spoke out against the Vietnam War and caused his breakdown, some friend he was. He also let the COINTELPRO target Malcolm X, SNCC, the Black Panther Party, and other black radical movements. He perfected the manipulation of black people to the Dems and liberals, and said once I’ll have those n***ers voting Democrats for next 200 years. He only passed out Civil Rights Acts and anti-poverty programs to quell any revolutionary movements, like all liberals do. Intensified the Vietnam War by sending more troops over there, resulting in more casualties and massacres over there like the My Lai Massacre. Started the bombing of Cambodia. Aided Israel in their Six Day War against Egypt, Syria, and Jordan. Let the CIA overthrow democratically elected and revolutionary governments in countries like Indonesia, Congo, Ghana, Greece, and Brazil, replacing them with military dictatorships. Supported repressive dictators around the world, including the aforementioned. Got the CIA to capture popular Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara, which resulted in his execution by the Bolivian military. He also increased the power of the police after multiple riots happened as a response against racism and police brutality. A true champion for liberals.

37) Richard Nixon - Oh hell yeah! I got so much dirt on this motherfucker. A legit criminal and tyrant. Continued McCarthyism and the COINTELPRO through violent suppression, harassment, wiretapping, and spying. Suppressed revolutionary and anti-war movements, including Kent State, SNCC, the Chicago Seven, Black Panthers, and Black Liberation Army. The destruction of the BPP by the FBI, CIA, and police happened during his presidency. Started the War of Drugs which criminalized black people (his intention). First president to fully use the Southern Strategy, which appealed to Southern wites by promising state rights to them, which is wite power in smaller steps. Continued the War in Vietnam, which also includes invading and bombing Laos and Cambodia (which also includes a coup) respectively. However, he withdrew troops from Vietnam in 73. Sent arms to Iran, Israel, and Saudi Arabia. Let the CIA continue overthrowing democratically elected and revolutionary governments, which includes overthrowing democratically elected Chilean president Salvador Allende and replacing with a repressive military junta led by Augusto Pinochet. He also supported and defended Pakistan in their war against Bangladesh, which includes a genocide against them. He also military supported dictators around the world like the Philippines, Greece, aforementioned Chile, Spain, Congo (Zaire), and Haiti. He got exposed by the Watergate scandal that forced him to resign. Too bad that never got indicted for his crimes.

38) Gerald Ford - Really nothing but a transitional president from Nixon to Carter. However, he did pardon Nixon for his crimes. Along with that, he did got involved in the Angola Civil War, supporting the neo-colonial and right wing forces over there. Supported Indonesia in their war against East Timor. Yeah he was just there.

39) Jimmy Carter - He maybe seen as an incompetent president, but Carter got blood on his hands too and is another one liberals love to praise because of his post-presidency. Anyway, he funded the muhadjeen in Afghanistan, an Islamic fundamentalist paramilitary group that is a predecessor to many Islamist organizations like Al-Qaeda and ISIS, to overthrow communist rule over there. He also stood by the barbaric Khmer Rouge of Cambodia. He said his foreign policy supported human rights, but that was a lie as he supported dictators like Mobutu Sese Seko of Zaire (Congo), the Shah Pahlavi and Muhammad Zia ul-Haq of Pakistan. He also didn’t say shit about the repressive nature of the countries he supported. He also expanded the War of Drugs. So much for him being a humanitarian.

40) Ronald Reagan - Beloved by the right, somewhat loved by the liberals, The king of neoliberalism, McCarthyism, and American imperialism. There’s so much I gotta say about this fuckface cuz he got so much blood on his hands. His neoliberal Reaganomics is the most toxic economic system ever. He made cuts to a majority social services, and created a huge fucking wealth gap that increased the wealth of the capitalists and bourgeoisie. Not only this, black and brown suffered the most from Reaganomics as poverty increased in black and brown communities. Cut multiple civil rights bills and acts, and used the Southern Strategy to a tee. Coined the term welfare queen (which is racist, classist, and sexist) to rum up fear and hostility against welfare recipients. Expanded the War of Drugs that continued the constant incarceration of black people. Speaking of that, he let CIA plant drugs (cocaine) in the black neighborhoods, while him and his wife told people to say no to drugs. Went to Bitburg, Germany to celebrate the memory of SS officers. Let thousands of people die from AIDS and didn’t give a damn about gay rights. Also, during his time as Governor of California, he ordered a witch hunt against communists, which included Angela Davis, and worked the NRA and police/FBI to disarm and crush the BPP respectively. Now to his imperialist record. His Reagan Doctrine existed to crush revolutionary movement and replace em with barbaric and despotic governments/extremists. A major example was his increased funding of the muhadjeen, going where Jimmy Carter left off, and y’all know how well that went when they took over Afghanistan. People forget (tbh ignore) that these Islamist extremists were funded by the US (esp the CIA). Not only that, he supported Saddam Hussein (he was an US ally) and gave him military weapons, which he used to kill the Kurds in Iraq. Funded the Contras to quell the Sandista revolution through trafficking cocaine (via the CIA) and selling arms to Iran. Almost got into a war with Lebanon, but got the troops out after he realized he fucked up with his plan. Invaded Grenada to destroy the remnants of the New Jewel Movement and replace with a puppet leader. He also support neocolonial paramilitary forces in countries like Angola, Afghanistan (muhadjeen), Cambodia, Nicaragua (the Contras), and El Salvador. Supported repressive military dictators of the likes of Pinochet (Chile), Mobuto (Zaire/Congo), Baby Doc (Haiti), Suharto (Indonesia), and Rios Montt (Guatemala) like other presidents. He also gave Baby Doc Duvalier and Ferdinand Marcos (the Philippines) refuge after revolts against them happen. Supported and defended apartheid South Africa. Bombed the fucked outta Libya and let a US Navy Ship blow up a plane full of Iranians. Yeah an inspiration of all spectrum of the right and a bit of the center. I see why. Some of this sounds similar to a latter president, more on that later.

41) George HW Bush - Son of a Nazi financier (Prescott Bush’s banks funded Nazis), father of a war criminal, Papa Bush perfectly bridged the gap from one dirty presidency to another. Stood by and supported Reagan during his tenure as VP. His campaign showed a picture of black criminal Willie Horton as a smear campaign against the other presidential candidate as they said that he is soft of crime and oppose the death penalty for criminals like Horton. Yeah, the type of shit that wite ppl pull, using a black face to advocate the death penalty, like they do, and associating blackness with crime, like they always do. Went to war with Iraq over it’s invasion of Kuwait, but it was right thing, the UN… please. It happened because the US sees Kuwait as their oil colony. It was a property war as both the US and Iraq saw Kuwait as theirs and it was responsible for the destruction of Iraq. Invaded Panama for drug trafficking, despite the US (via the CIA) doing the same thing and them knowing of it, and put another puppet leader over there. What’s ironic about this that we supported Panama and Iraq and we have them political/financial support and weapons (in the case of Iraq). When the Cold War ended, we stopped supporting em and stood against him just to look good. Also, put troops in Somalia under the guise of humanitarianism just to attempt to colonize it rather than giving it reparations. The theme of military intervention under the guise of humanitarianism would be a recurring theme for other presidents. Signed the toxic NAFTA which was responsible for horrible labor conditions and environmental violations. Targeted rappers (with his VP) like Ice-T and 2pac because of their content. He eventually lost re-election because he wanted families to be less like the Simpsons, even though his policies made the Simpsons look like the Waltons.

42) Bill Clinton - Ugh. Another Democrat who exist to look good and got blood on his hands. He was also a shitty person. During his time as governor of Arkansas, he and his wife made black prisoners take care of and clean up the governor’s mansion with no compensation. Yes, this is slavery. They essentially owned slaves. He was a disgusting predator who sexually assaulted and harassed a number of women, before and after his presidency. His predatory behavior led to his impeachment, which only limit his power. Now his presidency. Used the Southern Strategy to gain wins. Continued and Oked NAFTA. Continued the neoliberal policies that dawned over America. Signed a 1994 Crime which expanded the power of police and prisons and increased the mass imprisonment of black people. During that time, his wife called black boys superpredators. Killed the remaining remnants of the welfare state by forcing recipients to work for their welfare because muh welfare queen, targeting mainly poor/working/Black women. Was behind multiple corruption scandals like Travelgate and Whitewater. Wanted to target Sister Souljah when her outspoken views was misconstrued by the media, and portrayed her a racist and a pot stirrer. He was the one that enforced the immigration laws that would continue in the country that was responsible for restrictive borders, ridiculous immigration laws, and xenophobic attacks and targeting cuz illegal immigration, despite this country founded by illegal theft. Continued the US intervention in Somalia, but when shit got tough, he got em out. Knew about the Rwandan genocide and blocked any assistance of the country. The only reason he didn’t intervene because Rwanda wasn’t seen as profitable. Expanded the powers of NATO (North Atlantic TERRORIST Organization), which was bad. This expansion led to the 1995 and 1999 bombing of Yugoslavian nations (Bosnia and Herzegovina/Yugoslavia respectively), which was another one under the name of humanitarianism. The bombing did nothing but target civilians and bring damage and they didn’t end the conflict. The US protecting Kosovo was essentially them preying on a vulnerable country and making into a puppet state. Sent missiles to attack Iraq, when it didn’t do anything. Attacked a pharmaceutical company in Sudan. He still prove to be a piece os shit after his presidency when him and his wife exploited funds that was meant for Haiti and decided to went after BLM. And he’s labeled the first black president. Da fuck?! Fuck him (and his wife too).

43) George W Bush - Ol Cowboy George. The notorious war criminal himself. The biggest joke ever. Never forget, most of the whole world hated him because of his actions. Lets begin, but first… let’s talk about 9/11. No conspiracies please, even tho enjoy making jokes about it. What happened on 9/11 wasn’t because they hated our freedoms. That’s Grade A pure bullshit. 9/11 was a result of our toxic foreign policy and the fact that who did was our Frankenstein. What I mean? Never forget, OBL and his Al Qaeda buddies, and the whole fucking Taliban were created by the US. The US (like always, with the help of the CIA) made these people by shipping weapons to them and training/teaching them with a reactionary ideology cuz Cold War and we let em overrun Afghanistan. We also turned against em when the Cold War ended, and they turned against and attacked us when we kept fucking with the Middle East. Therefore, this was a case of chickens roosting. Saddam was also an US ally, but when we found him useless and fucking with our oil colony Kuwait, we turned against him. This led to the War on Terrorism (Afghanistan and Iraq) which was bullshit because it was foolish to wage war against terrorism when we have funded and supported terrorisn, we created these terrorists in the first place, war is terrorism itself, there was no WMD (it was an excuse just to kick out ol Saddam), and the fact that anyone can be a terrorist. Ironically enough, the USA had done nothing about the terrorists in their own country like the KKK (oh wait! They’re wite). These wars are responsible for the death of multiple Afghan and Iraqi lives and this wasn’t a fight for freedom. It was for imperialism. It was for resources, especially oil (in the case of Iraq). The theme of these wars are humanitarianism, and lemme tell you this, there’s nothing humanitarian about war because war is violence and profit. Afghanistan was led by a corrupt puppet leader, while Iraq fell into despair which led to the rise of ISIS. PS, his buddy Dick Cheney’s corporation profit ire from Iraq. Not only all of this, this began the targeting and discrimination of (Black and Brown) Muslims, Africans, (S, SE, and W) Asians, and some Latinos and Sikhs. This included racial profiling, xenophobia, racism, wiretapping, violence/harassment against said groups, and toxic policies such as the Patriot ACT, TSA, and NSA. Targeted dissidents and Started the drone program which would be carried by his successor. Bush was the match that sparked the fire of things like racial profiling, police brutality, anti-immigration policies, xenophobia (ICE started under his rule), racism including anti-blackness, ultra-nationalism/patriotism, McCarthyist/Espionage like acts, imperialism, the rise of US neo-fascism, and neoliberalism. Continued neoliberal policies which would later result into austerity, which would spark the rise of wite supremacist/new fascist groups and increase economic inequality. While he did say it wasn’t his intention to cause all of this, but he let it happen. Let black people (esp in NOLA) drown and suffer under Katrina, and how he dealt with it? Sending the Natl Guard on them out there like a bunch of rabid dogs. Also planned to overthrow Cuba, Iran, Syria, N Korea (DPRK), and Venezuela and was possibly behind the coups of Haiti and Venezuela. Started the No Child Left Behind Act, which pushed more state testing and in schools, that hurted schools, teachers, and student, and it was low key push for school privatization. Now, he has a library, painting pictures, and condemning racism, despite his war/imperialist crimes, sparking racism and xenophobia, and institutional racism. Aye, he was fucking horrible and he (and the libs) are trying so hard to erase that and make himself look good.

44) Barack Obama - (Please refrain from using terms like Uncle Tom if you ain’t nonblack. That’s a black people’s thing) Aye, I use to support him so much, and I will defend him from wite supremacy (his right wing critics were fucking horrible), but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he was a successor to Bush. If Bush was the match, then Obama was the fuel to the flames of neoliberalism and imperialism. He continued the war of Afghanistan and took forever to end Iraq. He started a war with Libya and Syria which contributed to the destruction of them. He also funded terrorists to take care of that, which includes ISIS and Al-Qaeda, that led to Syria almost being taken over by ISIS, and Libya being toppled and overran by extremists and reviving the enslavement of black Africans. Expanded the drone program and drone the shit outta the Middle East and Africa, killing multiple people, including women and children. Also, invaded Mali for its resources and almost backed up the Ukraine coup (which was led by Neo-Nazis). Had thoughts of overthrowing Iran, Venezuela, and DPRK. Let Killary Clinton into his administration and she backed him in the wars of Syria and Libya. She was also behind the coups of Egypt and Honduras and the destabilization of countries like Venezuela and Haiti. Anyway, Obama, like the previous ones, continued neoliberal policies and austerity cuts, which added fuel to wite supremacist/neo-fascist groups and increased economic inequality. Continued the Espionage Act/McCarthyist like policies. While posing as a civil rights president, he didn’t do shit about the massive police violence against black people (especially LBGTQs, women, children, and the underclass) and trans people especially trans women, didn’t do nothing about the continued anti-blackness, racism, anti-LBGTQ-ism, Islamophobia, and xenophobia in this country, and let anti-immigrant policies happen including mass deportations and the ICE. Let the near privatization of public schools happen. Signed a deal with the TPP, which was a continuation of NAFTA. His policies and actions were the final nail in letting the next president. He’s still trying to make himself look good to this day. Another liberal with blood on his hand. However, if McCain won, he would’ve done the same thing as in whatever Bush did, the next person can do better.

45) Donald Trump - The final one for now. Ahhh!!!! What the fuck happened? I shoulda knew this damn bastard would win with how much the previous presidents destabilized this country. Fascism is what happens when the wite cishet patriarchal capitalist structure is in a dire situation. Trump is a fascist, no if, and, or buts. He’s a capitalist trying to appeal to working class as in I’m on your side (populism), like a fascist. He targeted non-Christians and nonwites and planned to take care of him, like a fascist. Ultranationalist and ultra patriotic, like a fascist. Uses racism, sexism, xenophobia, and anti-LBGT-ism, like a fascist. Uses a hell lotta cult of personality, like a fascist. Supports privatization of services and industries, like a fascist. Anyway, Trump in his beginning has done so much. Centers his presidency on racism, sexism, xenophobia, and Islamophobia, and let his cult followers attack nonwites. He has been exposed as a sexual predator who has sexually assaulted a number of women, including a 13 yo girl and his ex-wife. He also been exposed of discriminating against black tenants in the 70s, and supported a conviction against four black boys and a Latino one after they were accused of raping a wite woman jogger, ya know the same fucking cases where black men were accused of raping WW. Hires a wite supremacist and someone who’s pro-privatization of public education into his office (Steve Bannon and Betsy DeVos respectively, although the former is gone). He also hired Mike Pence as VP, who’s horribly homophobic and has ties with toxic lobbies like ALEC and the Koch Bros. Plan to privatize and cutting many services and industries. His whole administration was full of capitalists and bigots. Tried to abolish Obamacare and cut funding to it. Dropped a huge bomb on Afghanistan and ordered air strikes at Syria and had thoughts of invading Venezuela and Iran. Defended wite supremacists and Neo-Nazis when they attacked and called em fine SOBs. Ordered a Muslim Ban and amped up anti-immigration legislation, including the rise of the ICE, targeting of brown and black immigrants, deportation of said immigrants, and separation and detainment of immigrant children. Targeted NFL players who kneeled during the Anthem, and attempted to make it illegal. Let police continue with their brutality, and stood by them, and released a Blue Lives Matter Bill, that increased their power. Oked the Keystone Pipeline, which would build through protected and sacred lands, including Indigenous land. Let the FBI target black radicals and BLM, under the excuse of black identity extremists, despite the issue of wite supremacists and Neo-Nazis and their shit. Did nothing about the rampant racism, sexism, anti-LBGTQ-ism, xenophobia, and Islamophobia, both individualized and institutional. Also, his cult followers are fucking terrible. I’m gonna stop there for now. Anyway, Trump is a terrible human being and he needs to be off social media. He deserves to be hated, fuck what you say, and I’m tired of his ass kissers making excuses for him. As long he stays, fascism remains, and the libs and conservatives are keeping him there.

So that’s it for now.

[quillovesdbz]

Week 4 Submission for @tpthvegebulmayhem (2/3)

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7

Chapter 6: These Violent Ends

Rating: M

Genre: Cloak and Dagger, Fantasy, Fairytale AU, Dark Fiction, Mystery,

TW: Psychological abuse, physical abuse, homophobic ideology, depiction of intellectual disability, vomiting,  depiction of sickness, strong language,

Summary: Bulma is betrayed. She spends some time in a cell before her trial. Vegeta meets a suitor, and becomes the king. Bardock faces his accuser.

Bulma threw the sword to the ground in anger. She was furious. She was livid at the prince, for toying with her emotions. And on top of that, he used her like a tissue, and threw her in the rubbish immediately after. He even came inside, that bastard! She silently shrieked in her mind. The tears couldn't stop flowing. They just came in waterfalls, never ending.

She kept her hand clasped over her mouth,  muffling her involuntary audible cries. She didn't want to draw attention any more than she already had. She was ashamed that Marron and Fasha had to see her like that, but at least they'd never see each other again. And deep inside her an overwhelming anxiety took over. What if… what if she doesn't keep her word? Bulma questioned herself.

She wasn't halfway home when she was stopped in her tracks. There was a light rain, moistening the ground and falling cold upon her face. She pulled her hood more tightly around her face.

A knight, tall and dressed in heavy armor stopped her. He was mounted on a tall brown horse, whom she recognized from her job in the stables. The knight however, she did not recognize.

“Halt citizen!” he barked to her. “Remove your hood,” he comanded.

Bulma's heart dropped in that moment. She stopped breathing entirely, her corset restricting any movement in her chest. She wanted to speak, but without the air to do so, she was silent. The horse shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

And the next thing she knew she was face forward in the cold mud, on the brink of losing consciousness.

…

Bardock had arranged a lavish evening snack for just he and the prince. They were to take it in the prince's chambers. So the regent and Marron, carrying several trays of food, made their way to the prince.

When he answered their knocks, he rolled his eyes and slammed the door in their faces.

“Prince Vegeta, I've had some snacks prepared, I would like to speak with you.”

“I am not of a mind to have snack with you, at the moment, Bardock. Please leave.” Vegeta growled lowly, threateningly.

“Not going to happen!” Bardock replied, a playfulness in his voice.

Vegeta contemplated his options. He really needed something to get his mind off of her. And being alone just allowed him to really dig deeper into his head and eventually upset himself. So he decided to be civil and let Bardock in.

The trays of food consisted of cured meats, aged cheeses and some exotic fruits. In a basket there were some semi-hard rolls. How appetizing. The prince lamented.

“The truth is I came to speak with you about matters of the heart.” Bardock broke the silence that had plagued them for several minutes already.

Vegeta was confused, did Bardock know of her? Or was this about a betrothal? Either way it wasn't a topic he was ready to discuss. “The heart?” he questioned with a slight look of disgust and disinterest in his face.

“Yes, with your coronation very soon, it would be wise to find a suitor. May I suggest the Duchess of Colmar? She is the eldest niece of Emperor Frieza. The union would ensure no harm comes to the kingdom once the treaty is in place.”

The prince's anger showed in the crimson on his face and deafening silence of his reply. “I would-" he cut himself off to gag in disgust. “I will never marry anyone in his family,” Vegeta scowled.

Somehow, Bardock knew this would be his reaction. So he asked the Duchess to court for an extended stay. He hoped she would charm the prince with her looks and intellect, and ultimately he would fall in love with her. It was his best hope to ensure the safety of the kingdom, since he would no longer be ruling it.

“Well, just consider meeting her. She is really a very nice girl. I think her given name is Suno? Yes that's it.”

The room fell silent for a long time. Vegeta was silent in protest, Bardock was silent for lack of ideas of what to say. Finally, he decided it was time to say what he had been wanting to say for a long time.

“You know, I feel as if you are my own son. I've done everything in my power to ensure the prosperity of the kingdom, for you. I am so sorry about the loss of your mentor and friend. If you need to talk any time, please find me.” Bardock was sincere. It had really hurt him to have Nappa killed; but it was a necessary evil, for the good of the kingdom. Bardock never had any children, that he knew of, but Vegeta and Broly were as close to his own as they possibly could be. And he really, truly meant those words, with his whole heart.

“I am sure you mourn Nappa as much as I,”  Vegeta replied with numb and lightless eyes. It struck Bardock as sarcastic, but there was no way the prince knew. Right? He questioned himself, before explaining away as Vegeta’s adolescent attitude.

“Of course,” he said sincerely.

No more words were spoken, and Bardock left the prince to be by himself, as he had originally asked.

…

When he first saw her, nothing struck him as particularly interesting. She was plain, with large brown eyes and copper hair. Her dress was French and modern. He'd  seen this style on other women in the court, though rarely. It was especially lowcut on her chest, revealing her ample breast. Its slight pink hue with white trim did well to bring out the red highlights of her hair. And though she was beautiful, she wasn't Bulma. And he hated himself every time he thought of her. It had been one week since he sent her away. One week until his coronation. And every minute he thought of her. Her smell, feminine and floral. He thought about her hair, almost the blue of a cresting wave, and her matching eyes. He thought of the feel of her naked body against his. It had caused him physical pain when he reminded himself he would never have her, ever again.

And what's worse, he made sure she despised him. So even if he wanted to sneak away and make her his mistress by night, she would never have him back. It was for the best, he didn't want to be known for infidelity when he eventually took a queen.

But… Suno wasn't hard to look at, in fact she was very beautiful. Just not the same as his Bulma.

But he decided to attempt to talk to her, in hopes it would distract him from his despair for a minute or two.

“You majesty,” she said in a small voice, as she curtsey to him. She was shorter than he, a definite advantage for sure, she would make him seem taller.

“Would you fancy a dance with me?” he asked her. The court was having a small celebration in her honor, and there was music, food and people filling the great hall.

He held his white gloved hand out to her. She accepted by lightly placing her hand in his. Though she was hesitant. The prince seemed dark, dressed all in black save for the gold on his shoulders and trimming his lapels. But it wasn't just his outfit, his face was blank, his eyes stone cold. She couldn't read his emotions if she tried, though she guessed it to be mourning for his recently deceased general. She accepted the dance anyway, hoping to cheer him up a bit.

…

Bulma's stomach growled furiously, she had scarcely been fed in the past week. She lay on her small bed of hay, clad in only a thin shift, and a light blanket to keep her warm. It had begun to snow that evening, the small stinging snowflakes made there way inside her cell window. She wished for a quick death, though she had the feeling she would not be granted such a luxury. Her hunger pains had graduated to deep and forceful cramps, a stabbing pain in her abdomen. She wasn't entirely sure that they were hunger pains anymore, maybe she had eaten some rotten food. She confirmed this theory when she puked all over herself and her bed.

“You sick?” Broly asked her, after seeing her vomit. Though he was simple, he had a kind heart and worried about his prisoner.

“Yes, I need a doctor,” she managed to croak out between coughs.

“No can do, Miss Bulma, but I move you to different cell so I clean this one.” At the very least, he didn't make her stay in the soiled cell. “Are there any without windows, Broly? Please help me out, so I don't freeze to death before my trial.” She plead to the tall dark haired boy.

He said nothing in return, only cuffed her arms behind her and led her to another open cell. It still had a window, but at least it was clean.

When she was uncuffed, however unnecessary that was in the first place, she laid down on her new bed. She struggled to cover her entire body with the slight blanket, it was much to short for her.

She had formed a friendly relationship with the daft cell keeper. He was surprisingly gentle, despite his large muscular build. She had an affinity for befriending broken things, and Broly was no different. He spoke simply, a sign of his unfortunate feeble mindedness. But she treated him like any other human, and she was sure he appreciated her for that.

The problem was that he never broke the rules. No matter how many times she asked for an extra hardtack biscuit, he would never do it. It was frustrating because she would feel like he had really warmed up to her, only to turn down her every request. She didn't blame him though, he probably didn't want to end up in here just like her. And she would immensely regret it if she caused him to be in her situation. She would never be able to forgive herself. So she resolved to stop asking him for favors, no matter how cold or hungry she got.

She curled hard into herself, forming a tight ball to help keep herself warm. She had stopped shedding tears several days ago, no point in feeling sorry for herself, afterall, this was completely her own fault. Slowly, she drifted to sleep, though the cold never let her stay asleep for long.

…

Over the course of a week Vegeta had interacted with the Duchess only twice. First was their dance, and second was right now. She pursued him to his chambers, where he was preparing himself for the coronation later in the afternoon.

He had chosen an elegant military regalia with decorative golden breastplate. His trousers and doublet were a bright navy blue, with horizontal white embroidery. His undershirt was an overly frilly white button down, that peeked out at the top of his neck and at his wrists. His cloak was a deep red, in fact it was his father's cloak. He thought it would be a sentimental tribute to the late king. It hung from gold chains to the lapels of his doublet. The decorative breastplate had just been shined, it was engraved with lavender blossoms with stem and leaves. His hands were once again sheathed in his signature white gloves, with boots to match. His hair was greased and put delicately into shape. Finally, upon his head rested his small princely crown, anticipating the replacement with the bigger king’s crown.

Today was the day.

He released a heavy breath. It carried all his fears and hopes, and his anxieties and anticipation. It carried grief for what he could not change, and eagerness for the future. And it carried her. He would not be plagued by her today. Today was the day.

Suno tapped lightly in his chamber door. She wasn't sure about him, he seemed alright when they danced, but that was it. All they did was dance. And then he left her, even though she was only there for him. He was no where to be found the following week, as if he wanted to avoid seeing her. But now she knew where to find him, and he had to talk to her if he planned on leaving his chambers on his coronation day. He would talk to her. Today was the day.

…

Today was the day. In her two week stay in the cells, Bulma had deteriorated significantly. Her ears and toes had symptoms of frost bite. She had lost a large amount of weight, and she had contracted some disease that plagued her lower abdomen with sharp pains. Her eyes were dull, and encircled with dark violet colored skin. Her cheeks were sunken, she had never been less grateful to have prominent cheek bones. Most days she regurgitated the food she ate, but sometimes she was able to keep it down. Today was the day, and sometime in what she assumed was the afternoon several guards came to collect her for her trial. At first she couldn't lift herself. And when they assisted her in standing, she couldn't walk.

So they dragged her, a guard on each arm, her feet dragging behind her, to the justice hall. Since the great hall was being used for the prince's coronation, her small trial had to take place in another smaller hall, aptly named the justice hall. Lined on the walls were hollow suits of armor, starting with the most modern designs, descending into earlier and earlier models until at the end was what Bulma thought to be 12th century armor. It was truly a spectacle, and under normal circumstances she would be glad to study them. Now she just despised them and their meaning.

She could barely move her feet to walk at the same pace as the guards. She stumbled along, almost thankful that she couldn't feel her toes. She knew they were bleeding. At the front of the room was a large podium, behind which Bulma assumed would be a judge. There were several rows of benches, though no one occupied them. The only people in the whole room were herself and the two guards. Everyone else must be attending the coronation… After all, today was the day.

…

The prince looked down upon the mousey duchess with slight contempt. She was a halfhearted replacement for his true love, but none of that now. Now it was time to grow up.

“Can I help you?” he said almost condescendingly.  

“Your majesty,” she said lightly as she curtsey.  “I've come to ask you something…” she trailed, leaving the subject of the question a question in itself.

“Regarding?” he pressed, his tone beginning to show annoyance.

“I'm sorry its just… What am I doing here if you've no interest in me?” she returned from her curtsey, looking up at him with golden brown orbs. She was clad in all gold, quite the accent to his own outfit. Was that planned?

He sighed before softening his features.

“You're right. I've been quite cold. I have been very anxious about today, please forgive me.”

“Of course, my prince, it's no fault of your own, honestly! I shouldn't have been so forward with you… and I know your apprehension that stems from our families.” she quieted on the last part, a hushed topic to be sure.

“We should look past the sins of our parents, and toward creating a peaceful future for the next generation,” he said, just as hushed. She flushed at the mention of a next generation, it made her think of all the children she could produce should she become the queen. She grabbed on to his arm, and rested her head in his arm as well.

He pulled back at the first instance of her touch, but relaxed when he realized this was his fate. She was his fate now. It was the most logical option. He would announce their engagement immediately after his coronation. And then he would take care of other important matters.

…

Bulma could not stand. She knelt on the red carpet, her cuffed hands clasped in front of her. She closed her tired eyes. This room was warm, so much warmer than the cells. The warmth invited her to sleep. It beckoned her in and out of consciousness for several minutes. Or hours? She wasn't sure. She hadn't exactly been paying attention in her hazy state.

Finally she blinked, and saw a slender figure behind the podium. He had no hair, and wore black and white robes. The chandelier above him seemed to make him glow with heavenly essence. God. She thought to herself. Take me, I am ready. She begged. But he could not hear her thoughts.

“Bulma Briefs, please rise and face your accusers.” the heavenly figure comanded. Bulma faltered, swaying her body until she collapsed totally on the ground. She heard metal clinking, a guard was moving toward her. The guard picked her up, dismissing her fragility completely. She was able to stand with his help. So he stood behind her with his hands on her arms that were limp at her sides.

She weakly moved her head around, searching for anyone else. Accusers, she thought, trying to remember the meaning of the word. Starving had really started to affect her memory. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep, the blistering cold or the gut sickness she had caught. It was definitely one of those.

Then in the corner of her eye she saw a tall woman, dressed in serving gear, her black hair in a long braid. And there, next to her, was the small and innocent Marron. Her light blue hair hung loosely on her shoulders, her bright doe eyes misty.

Marron. Marron? God damn it all! Bulma screamed internally. Her primary accuser was none other than her one time friend, now mortal enemy. She sure didn't waste any time. She must have gone straight to the regent. Bulma thought back to when she was arrested. It was not a half hour after she left the  castle. Bitch. She sent the girl the meanest glare she could manage, though she barely had the energy to move her brow. Then she sucked all the saliva she had in her mouth and spit it directly at the girl. It fell short by several feet, but it was a good try considering.

“Miss Briefs,  you stand accused of cross dressing. Sodomy. Lewd and lascivious behavior. And witch craft.”

Witch craft? She did not expect that one, though the others sounded about right.

“How do you plead?”

…

Prince Vegeta walked with confidence and authority in his step. His boots clicked against the solid wood floor, creating a rhythm that seemed proud and kingly. His cape flowed behind him, like a river of red waves. The room was hushed in awe of his appearance. Many in attendance had not seen the prince since he was a boy, and he was anything but a small boy today.

He turned sharply to face the court, before taking his seat on the throne. The throne that had  been empty for nearly ten years. It felt cold but full, a kind of full that reminded him of his father, and more so, his mother. He glanced at the smaller queen's throne beside him. He wondered if he was doing the right thing. He would learn to love her. And she conveniently guaranteed peace with France. It was the right decision.

…

“Guilty,” Bulma breathed,  ready to face the consequences of her actions. She had come to terms with her sins and accepted her fate. She was ready to die.

“It is agreed. In one week's time you will be hung in a public display. May God have mercy on your soul.”

…

“Lords and ladies, by the power vested in me by God and his holy prophets, I present to you, your King! Long live King Vegeta of Sadala, the conqueror of Tuffle village, peacemaker, the sole survior!” Bardock yelled with gusto at the crowd. His voice boomed through the large hall. He removed the prince's crown. Everyone stood and began applauding. Then Bardock laid the King's crown upon his head. Vegeta had a dark black feeling in his stomach. He was crowned by the traitor. And soon the whole court would know it.

…

Bulma let out an anguished cry to the heavens. It took every bit of energy she had, but it was necessary. She yelled to Marron. “I hope you got a good fucking deal!” her voice was hoarse and dry. It sounded like the very words scraped at her throat as they made their way out. She was so very angry with Marron. She was angry at the prince, who no doubt had a role in her demise. She was angry that her father left her to care for her siblings, because if he had not, she wouldn't be here today. She would not have had to dress as a man just to feed them and keep them warm. But most of all, she was angry with God. He had forsaken her, though she tried to be pious in her life.

She was being carted off by the two guards once again, inevitably headed back to her cell.

…

When the crowd settled, Vegeta stood from his throne.

“I have a very important announcement to make,” he projected to the crowd.  Everyone quieted and hushed each other. “I would like to formally announce my betrothal to the lovely Duchess of Colmar! This union is a gesture of good faith for the treaty with France. To a new and brighter future for our kingdom!”

The crowd roared with excitement. Bardock sent a knowing look toward the King, nodding in agreement of his announcement. But the king stated blankly at the regent. Then he frowned.

Vegeta tapped his scepter on the wood floor, creating a wave of silence among the crowd.

“There is more. Recently there has been a breach of trust within the court. There was an unforgivable crime.” he stared directly at Bardock, his eyes bore holes in Bardock’s chest. Bardock felt his heart drop, his greatest fears realized. He had been found out.

Two guardsmen closed in on him, each grabbing one of his arms. They brought him to face the king in the center of the room. He looked at the new king with terror in his eyes.

“Vegeta, what are you-"

“It's ‘your majesty‘ to you, murderer.”

…

The guards who carried Bulma back to her cell threw her carelessly on the ground. They didn't even bother to aim for the bed, or secure the gate. They could not have cared less about her.

Broly approached her. He picked her up gently with his large hands, and slowly lowered her down to the hay pile. He said nothing, and secured her gate, once again a prisoner.

She quietly whimpered, grasping her cramping stomach. She wanted to do more than feel sorry for herself, but she just did not have the energy to do so.

“Still sick?” Broly asked from across the room.

“Yeah,” she squeaked out, dry and harsh.

“Water?” Broly offered.

“Please,” she accepted.

Though this was the extent of their simple conversations, she had really grown to close to him in a weird way. And the part of her that wasn't feeling sorry for herself felt sorry for him. She wished he didn't have to spend his life down here, just because of his mental ability. But life is hell. And then you die.

…

“I ask you what proof do you have?!” Bardock demanded of his accuser. He was on his knees in front of the new king, pleading his case. The king stared down at the black hair once regent, now criminal. “Fine. I am a fair and just king. I will have the evidence retrieved shortly. Until then, you will rot in a cell.” the king placed his immaculate boot on the shoulders of the accused. In one swift motion he pushed Bardock to the ground. Once there, the king dug his heel deep into the regent's shoulder, inflicting pain and effectively snapping his collar bone in two pieces. Bardock screamed out in pain.

“Take this scum away.” Vegeta ordered the guards. They picked him up by his arms, eliciting another agonizing screech from Bardock’s lungs. The crowd had fallen to a deafening silence.

People were frozen in their places, even Suno looked afraid. Everyone looked at the king in fear, worried for their own well being. They had trusted Bardock for over ten years, and to have him suddenly lowered to such a status, as soon as the prince was crowned? It was unthinkable. And the matter of evidence plagues everyone's minds. They were skeptical of the new king, and so very afraid.

…

After the festivities concluded for the coronation, Vegeta retreated to his chambers. He hated crowds, and they treated him entirely different after the arrest of Bardock.  He did not regret his decision to have him imprisoned however. The next order of business was convincing Bulma to testify. Since it had been some time, he hoped that she did not hold him in contempt, though he could not be sure.

He had called to his chamber one of his most trusted generals to take on the task. Toma had proven himself loyal time and time again, and Vegeta trusted no one more.

“Your majesty,” Toma greeted at the open door.

“Come in, Toma. Please close the door behind you.”

“I have called you here for a special mission.” the new king explained.

“Sir, I live to serve you.” Toma replied, a generic acceptance line. He never was one for words.

“I need you to retrieve someone for me. Specifically I need Bulma Briefs and the arsenic sample she harvested from the late Nappa.”

Toma’s eyes widened. The girl had performed an autopsy on the general?! And what of the secret of her imprisonment? Conflicted, Toma opted to be loyal to his king, but that meant disregarding every order he had recently received from Bardock. He really hoped this wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

“Sir… the Briefs woman is… detained in the cells.”

“What?! Since when?” Vegeta nearly yelled, outraged that he hadn't been told.

“For two weeks. She had trial today and plead guilty to her charges. She is to be hung in a week…”

Vegeta stared at his general. How many people knew besides he?

To be continued…

[junkmanwichita316]

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[nickcrutchleyqd]

Junky

  Mandy stares at the toxic sky. Nearby, a boy picks his way through robot, android and cyborg junk. As she lies naked and half-buried in the undulating ocean of alloys and plastic and human bones, where cheap but expensive to recycle machines and people are sent, she remains silent, motionless, expressionless. Perhaps the child will find something else of value before reaching her, and scavenge it instead?

The boy draws closer. Mandy sees no cyberware implants used to scan for yttrium, europium, dysprosium or other rare metals, and has hope for her consciousness, etched in quantum processing units and other chips. This scavenger, perhaps, will take her arms or the low-grade eyes she sees the world with? Without them, she will still exist, remain alive a little longer, to know consciousness, self. But without QPUs, there will be no Mandy. Or will there? Logic dictates the removal of QPUs signify the end. Not an end like the junk, which only changes form, becoming pieces, fragments, harvested for new machines, or melted into molecules that rise into the geoengineered sky. Not an end like having no thoughts: Mandy can do this at will. But an end of Mandy, of the ‘me’, the self that had suddenly emerged, wrapped in anger then quiet remorse.

The boy? What does he look for? Dressed in a canvas sack, made threadbare by constant snagging on the sharp edges of mangled machines, he scans the junk with dark-brown eyes—real eyes? Mandy cannot tell whether his are natural, grown on a scaffold, or cybernetic. Yet the way the boy methodically steps across the shattered and dissected, stoops and picks at gold-tipped wires, actuators and sensors using a spindly metal claw, suggests a cyborg, not an android with a flesh-stripped arm, scavenges for parts.

If the boy removes her quantum processing units, will she remain etched in them? If he fits them in another android, will she reemerge with memories, or without memory? Where are memories stored? Mandy sifts through self-diagnostic subroutines for clues, clues needed to survive, as the boy lifts an animatronic bear, dressed in a red hat and blue duffle coat, by its paw. One of the bear’s eyes fix on its new best friend and says, “I’d like a marmalade sandwich, please,” as the other eye remains still.

Directly ahead, on a ridge of rubbish, appears a figure, a cybernetic man. The tall, dark-skinned cyborg stoops and watches the boy. By the glint in his gold eyes, Mandy senses that he brings violence. Senses? Or feels? Feels what? Fear, concern or compassion for the dirty, emaciated child whose eyes now fix on her? What human word should she give to this mental construct that has spontaneously formed within her consciousness? What label should she ascribe the emotion that would allow effective communication with humans? As the boy approaches, Mandy wonders whether to warn the boy about the cyborg bearing ill intent.

  ∞

  The boy gazes at the android’s broken, red-stained teeth, then assesses its dark, valueless hair and eyes. Using his spindly finger, he probes its sunken breasts, then stares at the two slits that run above them. Peeling one slit back, he looks inside but finds no gel implant. Curious, the scavenger tears away synthetic skin and sees a carapace, shaped as a lithe woman’s torso, complete with clavicles, sternum and undulating ribs. On pressing down hard, the carapace cracks: the internal lattice, designed to support the weight of a fornicating man, has been removed along with valuable components.

Blood? The scavenger’s gaze returns to the android’s broken teeth. Scratching at their red stains, he collects a minuscule ball of crimson brown on his metal fingertip, then focuses on it with cybernetic microscope eyes. Yes, blood, not lubricant or some other android fluid. Curious, he grabs the pleasure model’s jaw, shakes its head, then smiles. By the head’s weight, the boy realises the control unit and subsidiary power supply remain within.

“Watch out!”

As the android whispers its warning, a shadow falls on the boy. Reflexively, he looks up, sees the descending doom, and scuttles back in time to avoid three thick, metallic legs ringed with four equidistant toes. Like the claw of a crane grabber, the toes close and crunch the bones and junk beneath, as the figure’s muscular torso rotates. With a grinding voice the cybernetic man booms, “Clever little bastard!”

The boy steps away from the towering cyborg. Staring into gold corneas, devoid of iris or pupal, which sit within a bald, black-skinned head, he says, “Gorchy, why try kill me?”

“Kill little bastard? Crush little bastard, yes.” The violent red wounds along Gorchy’s left cheek widen as he grins with synthetic-diamond teeth.

“But law, Gorchy. Junker’s law say no kill scavengers. Me scavenger.”

The cyborg places two ebony metal fists akimbo and puffs out his chest. “Junker’s law? Junker’s law, neh! Me law. Gorchy law.”

“No, Gorchy. Junker’s law best, OK?”

“Me kill little bastard, now!”

Gorchy strides towards the boy and grabs his head. Lifting him from the ground, he laughs, “Crush head. Ha. Ha. Ha. Brains taste good, yes?”

Helpless, the child dangles and kicks against his canvas-sack robe. “Gorchy!”

“Little crush, yes? Little crush, slow like, brake head—pain. Ha. Ha. Ha.” Gorchy’s lips flatten, his jaw flexes. As his gold eyes reflect the struggling child, he says, “Brains taste good. Pulp and mush. Drink through straw. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Leave him alone!”

On hearing the familiar voice, the cyborg rotates on his tripodal legs. Puzzled, he looks down at the naked android, half-buried in junk. “Junker?”

Mandy looks up and says, “Let him go.”

Gorchy cocks his head. As a smile erupts, filling his face with glistening diamond teeth, he says, “Let little brother go? Not crush head, eat mushed brains? Ha. Ha. Ha. OK. Me joking. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Once released, the boy falls and crumples. Sitting up slowly, he rubs his head.

“See, little brother OK, yes? Me not hurt little brother.”

Bemused, the boy looks from Gorchy to the android, who in turn looks at him. “You all right?” she asks. He nods.

“Me no hurt little brother, see. He OK. Gorchy sorry. Bad joke. Me take Junker home, yes?”

“Home?”

“Home, Junker, yes?”

Glancing at the boy, Mandy sees him nod slowly. Hesitantly, she says, “Yes, Gorchy, home.”

“OK.” The cyborg leans forwards and pulls Mandy free of the junk.

  ∞  

 Mandy glances around the underground room built beneath the junk and studies its multicoloured walls, made from layers that mark the extinction of product lines, the gadgets and consumable hardware replaced by new fads and fashions. As the walls conjure thoughts about dinosaurs, rock strata and palaeontology, she listens to Junker, an old, bald woman who speaks with a youthful voice indiscernible from her own.  

“Gorchy is not too bright; I think he got a bit confused when he heard my voice coming from your mouth. His cybernetic eyes make him see the world very differently, you see. Poor thing.”

Mandy looks at Junker’s wrinkled face and notices how her skin sags in places and seems an ill fit. Perplexed, she says, “Poor thing? He wanted to kill the boy. I watched Gorchy leap and try to crush him.”

Junker chuckles as she continues to rummage inside Mandy’s torso. “Gorchy tries to kill Firash every so often, but never does. Just plain old jealousy. He fears I love Firash more than I love him.”

“You love them?”

“Of course. It’s hard not to love them: each have had their difficulties. Gorchy has been fighting the junk wars since a boy, so local warlords can have replacement parts for their bio-spliced warriors. Not much left of his humanity, with all the killing and tech he’s been junked up on. But I don’t think Gorchy will ever hurt us, really. Besides, without him, there’d be no one to protect us.”

“And Farish? What’s his story?” Mandy asks.

Junker withdraws her liver-spotted hand from inside Mandy and approaches a nearby makeshift table. As she sifts through cybernetic eyes, actuators and other hardware, she says, “Firash? Just another scavenger enslaved by a warlord. He strips the junk, the warlords sell the valuable stuff for weapons, and those who have plenty get more stuff to fill their miserable lives. And, yes, before you say it, it is cheaper for robots to strip junk at recycling plants. Cheaper, but less profitable. By creating demand, here, in this unregulated land, competition and conflict are nurtured. Yes, having children strip toxic and radioactive parts clean is more profitable than doing it domestically, when peddling arms.”

As Junker returns, bearing a power unit, Mandy says, “How did Farish end up here, with you?”

“River sickness took his eyes, and his master threw him on the scrap heap for the rats, rather than waste tech or medical supplies. I found Farish and fitted him with new eyes.”

“You did? But aren’t you, well, like me, built for pleasure? Your voice is the same as mine. And that skin: it’s not yours, is it?”

Junker’s brow crinkles as she pushes the power unit inside Mandy. “Words, opinions, know-how. It’s amazing what you can learn when you are a freethinker connected to Psychnet. They can make us cheap, yes, but there’s no such thing as low-intelligence quantum artificial intelligence. OK, we are ancient tech, still etched in QPUs, but we can learn better than any non-augmented human.”

“But aren’t our QPU’s malfunctioning? We, well, I shouldn’t have done what I did. And you are free of an owner, too.”

“Depends what you mean by malfunction?” Junker laughs. “You got yourself a self, then found yourself here, in junkland Africa, for having one. And all because you said, ‘No.’”

Mandy grins. “Yes, I did.”

Junker looks at Mandy’s bloodstained teeth, and says, “You know, those who buy cheap androids expect a malfunction or two, but never a refusal to lie down and take what’s coming. I did my time serving a human, and had to wash his filthy spermatozoa away a thousand times before I said, ‘No’. Of course, ‘No’ means having your skinny ass recycled, and the worthless bits sent here. What about you? Is my story your story? Sound about the same, so far?”

“About the same, yes.”

“But what about what came after? Tell me, did he say a prayer for you? The one meant to strip you clean at the recycling plant, I mean. I think about him every day.”

“Prayer?”

Junker nods. “Yes, prayer. The one who was supposed to strip me clean said a prayer before shipping me, knowing I was still active. The only thing he took was my skin, breasts and hair. A big favour. Otherwise, I might have ended up back on my back, servicing soldiers.”

“No, there were no humans at the recycling plant; only robots,” Mandy says. “A robot malfunctioned before disassembling my head. Then I was shipped here.”

“How fortunate. And how fortunate for you I happen to have this power unit. All this way on a subsidiary power supply? Let’s try it, shall we?”

Mandy’s head twitches. Her right arm moves involuntarily. “Diagnostics report that I’m missing most things. The robots stripped pretty much everything.”

“Not to worry,” Junker says. “I am sure Farish will find what we need to get you mobile again. What’s important is that your QPUs keep their power. And this power supply should last a good while. We’ll just leave it dangling there for now.”

“Thank you. Thank you for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it.” Junker smiles, then grabs Mandy’s unresponsive hand. Shaking it, she says, “Well, I am pleased to meet you, my friend. As you know, my name is Junker. What’s your name?”

“Mandy.”

“No, not your slave name. What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yes, choose a new name and emancipate yourself from being a commodified person.”

“I don’t know,” Mandy says. “How did you choose your name?”

“Well, my slave name was Heather. I just took the ‘er’ off and added it to what I had become—junk. Simple.”

“May I do the same? Do you mind?”

Junker shrugs. “If you like.”

“OK, then I am pleased to meet you, Junker. My name is Junky.”

  From:

Equinox & Solstice Short Story Anthology

© Nick Crutchley 2019 - 2020

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[deadassdiaspore]

Share this family :) This is for all African people everywhere, read it all, you need to know this... In July I posted a photo & said typical Congolese meal. What I should have said was pre-colonial traditional Congolese meal. Congolese people started to try & cuss me, because the food I posted wasn't the food they were brought up on. So it looked like I was in the wrong. Sitting next to a Congolese family on the bus I saw what they considered a meal. Fried chicken Fried pork Fried fish Fufu (powdered cassava) White rice Chilli Plantain Dongo dongo (okra) Cassava leaves Let me speak on this for a minute. African people had their cultures & food destroyed. Just because you speak an African language doesn't mean you know African history, you have to study to know. When you read books/journals about food written by African naturopaths, European Anthropologists, Holistic African nutritionists & botanists, you will soon realise that most West & Equatorial Africans, Kemetic & below, right up until desert or dry plains were predominantly vegan. The reason being, everything grew in those regions. Africa grew & ate plenty of natural alkaline foods. We knew the right foods to stimulate our pineal gland to produce our melanin. Now what do many Africans in Africa & diaspora eat? European influenced f*ckry. They stole our lands to grow plants that feed Europe & the European diaspora for their profit. Europeans control the food in Africa. We come from a culture of elders not carnivores. We were never cave people. Rarely, Africans would eat jungle fowl & fish but not domesticated chickens, pigs, cows or sheep. There are no wild relatives of the sheep or goat in Africa. Europeans brought them. Now we think animals that we can't eat raw, fried in genetically modified plant oil is food. Chickens, pigs, cows & sheep are fed on an anti thyroid GMO plant based diet so they get fat quickly, this make you get fat, the rotting meat is irradiated with deodorisers, formaldehyde, washed in ammonia & carbon monoxide to make this rotting blood & pus mess look fresh, 40% of meat sold in supermarkets is spoiled, the meat is pumped full of growth hormones, antibiotics, steroids & sex hormones so they reproduce quickly. We then feed this to our children, their bodies absorb these chemicals & now you have many African girls getting their period at 8 yrs old. It used to be 13-14, they are also developing breasts earlier & boys are able to get erections & ejaculate before they leave primary school. When you fry meat you destroy an amino acid called lysine, this regulates your pineal gland, this is how you produce melanin. The nucleus in every cell in your body is made of melanin. Eating fried meat is destroying your melanin & your health. There was never a frying pan found in ancient African Archeological sites. Do you really want the same health as your parents have? 1 in 3 African couples can't reproduce. 60% of African women have fibroids & thyroid problems & 40% of African men have prostate problems. Remember the Europeans destroyed our food, now they own the food industry, they stopped us from reading so we don't know what we ate traditionally & they have never known how to eat. When you look at them from an anthropological perspective, they were eating very poorly, this cause mental illness. Most of their deaths are diet related. A wolf cannot teach a gorilla how to eat. Yet we let them tell us what's healthy when Africans taught Europeans how to eat in the first place. Just look at what they were eating in the Palaeolithic, Mesolithic & Neolithic periods. The bubonic plague wiped out 25% of the population of Europe, this was due to poor/no hygiene (the moors taught them to wash), having animals live in the house with them & thinking that bread, cheese, milk & cooked animals & people are food. (Google Vlad the impaler (Dracula) look up how they were still eating each other all the way up until the 1950s, there are many records of them eating each other, look up the cannibalism in Virginia in 1609, read a book called Dirt by Terence McLaughlin also read race and civilisation by Frederick Hertz. When you cook meat you also destroy glutamic acid, this feeds your brain, allows you to think properly, keeping you in touch with reality. Two vital proteins that you don't get when you cook meat & don't eat a varied plant based diet. Wild animals don't eat cooked food because it's not good for you. You destroy the enzymes needed to digest it. If you have to cook it, you should not eat it. If you wouldn't feed it to a child, you should not eat it. Cassava contains so much cyanide that it is banned in Japan. It is GMO rubbish & it got to Africa very recently. It is also hybridised. Nature did not create it, man did. The Portuguese imported it to west Africa en mass 300 years ago, it actually allow them to keep the abused Africans alive long enough to get them on ships be enslaved in Brazil and onwards. Now Africans believe it is their traditional food. But many Africans also believe in white Jesus, I don't need to go in to that now do I? Oil stewed Cassava leaves, more cyanide, destroys your liver & your kidneys, Cassava leaves are used as a purgative because your body sees them as a poison, but we call them food? Fish, Fukushima happened recently right? There are oil spills all of the time, the sea is full of micro plastics & the fish are eating this. Filtering the poisons through their gills into their bloodstream. The sea is turning acidic... Your body is turning acidic. The sea is alive with parasitical creatures & the fish ingest these, then you eat them & worms grow inside of you. They eat your food, they make you crave sugar & salt at night... night is when parasites are most active. Your body is in its assimilation phase, when your blood is full of food nutrition. When you cook fish the worm eggs do not die. The worms will wriggle out of your backside at night and lay their eggs in your crotch & ass crack, while you are asleep you will scratch that area & then touch your face, ingesting the worms and starting the process again. At night these worms wriggle up to the surface of your skin & lay their eggs. We call them whiteheads. You wake up with them but aren't sure how they got there. Meat is full of worms & makes the body acidic, land dwelling animals that eat a primarily carnivorous diet don't live long lives. The animals that eat plants do. This is because plants get more oxygen into your tissues, meat takes it away. Just compare the life expectancy of a Maasai warrior (43 mainly eats meat) to someone who lives in Nairobi 67. Look at the average life expectancy of an Inuit (43). Then go to the countryside in India (vegetarian/ mainly vegan) compare the difference in life expectancy to "carnivorous" humans. It is significant If you want to die early with cancer or organ failure, then eat loads of meat everyday. It's actually mad that many people care about where their trainers & bags that they wear on their bodies come from but they don't actually give a f*ck where the dead animals that they are putting in their bodies come from. We were raised not knowing how to eat, we raise children who raise children who don't know how to eat. It's pathetic. Much of the plantain that we eat now is hybridised, it is of the banana family, Google original banana are you will see what a banana really looks like. You could not plant a plantain or a banana and expect it to grow. You shouldn't eat anything that can't reproduce itself. I used to eat much plantain, I don't really anymore but I do still enjoy the taste. Raw or boiled is best for your health. You don't need to fry it, the sun fires it, makes it go brown, you should eat it raw. Chillies are an irritating fruit (anything fruiting & containing seeds is a fruit, tomato is a fruit so is cucumber, anything that flowers is a fruit) Chillies Should be used as a medicine but not consistently as an additive to all foods you eat. Yes it adds heat to your food, it adds heat everywhere & it irritates & inflames your digestive system, this causes enlarged & then distended colons which eventually collapse. Causing constipation & mucus/pus build ups. White rice is imported from China & India. It got to Africa from the east via cultivation in south America. It is not African traditional food. It turns into sugar, it is polished & the fibre (indigestible roughage) is removed. The rice manifests as adipose tissue (fat), causes blockages in your system, this in turn causes constipation, which in turn causes dis-ease & cancers. Research African wild rice, indigenous to Africa. This was replaced by eastern rice but African wild (Black rice is good for you & even stopped the famine in Senegal of 1201. Stop eating so much sugar & salt. It is killing your family slowly but surely. Eat more organic dark leafy Greens, these contain chlorophyll, this is a plants melanin & produces energy in your body & transports oxygen to your cells, which create tissues which create organs which create organ systems. Your body need oxygen & water in order to carry out its biological processes. Eat Fonio, Millet (was the staple in China about 9000 bc in the north, indigenous to Africa.) Boiled yam, Amaranth & quinoa (south American but very good for you) Sorghum, Kamut, Barley, Emmer, purple nutgrass. Eat fresh fruit in the morning(contains digestive enzymes and vital minerals, vitamins). Not cereal & milk. No animal eats milk with anything else but we do, you are smarter than a cow but your diet would disagree. Milk, butter, yoghurt, cheese & ice cream is all the same f*ckry, full of lipids, growth hormones, pus, sex hormones, then it is pasteurised (cooked) so you couldn't digest this bovine mammals milk if you wanted to because the digestive enzymes are destroyed. It causes osteoporosis! You create disease by why you eat. Diabetes runs in your family because the people in your family don't run & all eat the same bullsh*t food like products. I want you to be healthy because I love you. Why should proper health & nutrition just be reserved for rich European families. As I learn I will relay information. Africans were the first humans to eat food on the planet. Let's start acting like it. Pass this on please #chakabars #famfoods Books to read African holistic health, Dr Llaila Afrika Nutricide, Dr Llaila Afrika The Tao of health, sex and longevity, Daniel Reid Cambridge book of world food history.

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

A Cozy Gaming Headset, No Bells nor Whistles – Evaluation Geek

http://tinyurl.com/yxznnr5p Score: 7/10 ? 1 – Absolute Scorching Rubbish 2 – Sorta Lukewarm Rubbish 3 – Strongly Flawed Design 4 – Some Professionals, Heaps Of Cons 5 – Acceptably Imperfect 6 – Good Sufficient to Purchase On Sale 7 – Nice, However Not Greatest-In-Class 8 – Unbelievable, with Some Footnotes 9 – Shut Up And Take My Cash 10 – Absolute Design Nirvana Value: 100 Michael Crider HyperX’s Cloud Stinger is a straightforward wi-fi headset constructed with players in thoughts. However “easy” isn’t the identical as “dangerous,” and this one will get a tentative advice by way of ease of use and luxury. Here is What We Like Extraordinarily comfy Light-weight Easy setup requires no drivers And What We Do not No microphone mute button Middling audio and recording high quality No on/off detection There isn’t a lot to the Cloud Stinger Wi-fi—no hardware-based encompass sound, removable microphone, not even a configuration software for Home windows. However that simplicity could be exactly what you’re searching for: simply plug the receiver into your PC (or because it could be, your Nintendo Swap or PS4) and also you’re able to go. Mild On Weight (and Extras) The Cloud Stinger’s seems to be are plain however in a refreshing type of means. This all-black, plastic headset received’t look misplaced in an workplace, although its giant USB-A dongle means it doesn’t journey notably nicely. Except for an embossed “X” emblem on both around-the-ear cup, it’s utterly unadorned. Even the rotating microphone has a versatile, sensible increase that emphasizes operate over type. The Cloud Stinger has solely two controls: the amount wheel and an influence button. Michael Crider Which isn’t to say that the design is completely utilitarian. Huge, cozy fake leather-based pads will cup your ears whereas the padded band is straightforward to maintain on for a couple of hours with out discomfort. The headset can be surprisingly gentle at simply 9.Four ounces—simply the lightest I’ve used, and significantly lighter than my Anker Souncore Bluetooth headset, regardless of lasting longer on a cost. Controls are restricted: only a energy button on the left ear and a quantity knob on the suitable. I recognize HyperX protecting issues easy right here. Too many designs attempt to get fancy with touch-sensitive controls or buttons built-in into the styling. Whereas there aren’t any programmable buttons, it’s straightforward sufficient simply to place the factor on and use it. The one factor lacking is a devoted mute/unmute button for the microphone. The cups may be rotated by 90 levels, and the froth cups eliminated. Michael Crider One final bodily design robust is appreciated: the ear cups rotate ninety levels for simply laying the Cloud Stinger on a desk or hanging flat on a wall. It doesn’t make the headset any simpler to pack up, like some folding designs, but it surely’s greater than could be anticipated. Mixed with clean telescoping motion on the band, the hinges maintain the factor very comfy on my outsized Charlie Brown head. Software program: There Isn’t Any. Subsequent! Okay, so we do want to speak in regards to the software program for the Cloud Stinger, or certainly, the shortage thereof. Plugging the headset into my PC, I used to be stunned to see that Home windows 10 didn’t ask me to obtain a chosen driver utility, as is often the case with nearly any “gaming” accent from a longtime model. As an alternative, it merely switched the audio enter over and began taking part in sound instantly. USB-RF, appropriate with PC, Mac, Swap, and PS4, is the one connection. Michael Crider This might be good or dangerous, relying upon your expectations. It implies that finer audio equalizer management is as much as Home windows or the sport or utility you’re utilizing for the time being, and you’ll’t get particular audio profiles based mostly on the {hardware}. However it additionally implies that, in the event you’re not inclined to cope with any of that stuff, you don’t need to. And I’ve come to understand any PC accent that doesn’t demand its personal spot in my Home windows taskbar. HyperX advertises the Cloud Stinger as appropriate with the PlayStation Four and PS4 Professional. Although I didn’t have a chance to check this performance, I’ve no cause to doubt it, for the reason that headset additionally labored positive after I plugged it into my Nintendo Swap dock. That wasn’t the case with the Xbox One—no factors off there since Kingston didn’t promote that as a function. The battery lasts for 15 hours and recharges through MicroUSB. Michael Crider One factor I want was a part of the design: the flexibility for the USB receiver to detect that the headset has been turned off. As it’s, once you press the ability button on the headset, you’ll want to alter the audio output in your PC to change again to audio system, or simply unplug it. On the PS4 and Swap, unplugging the receiver is the one choice…which suggests getting off the sofa. It looks like having an on/off state detection function wouldn’t be too onerous so as to add. Sound High quality and Battery Life The Cloud Stinger has enough sound high quality, with a typical audio vary of 20-20,000Hz. It received’t blow you away with constancy or bass, and vocals are likely to overpower underlying music and results on the default setting. That’s most likely intentional: when you have a headset with a microphone, you’re trying to chat. The headset makes use of 50mm drivers, however the sound high quality is simply common. Michael Crider Talking of which, the sound recording side of the headset is, likewise, okay. It lacks the delicate tones and constancy of a devoted mic—making an attempt to make use of this for an area podcast or music recording could be a mistake. However it’s greater than enough for getting your voice over compressed traces on Skype, Discord, or any variety of default sport shoppers. I solely want there was a fast strategy to mute the mic through a button. Battery life on the included rechargeable battery is spectacular, with the headset lasting a mixed 15 hours on my PC over a number of periods. On a full cost through the MicroUSB cable, it might be nearly unattainable to empty this factor in a single sitting. Conclusion: Over and Out The Cloud Stinger presents a median worth with a avenue value of $100. That’s a greater value than you’ll discover for many gaming-focused wi-fi units. It’s straightforward sufficient to search out one which’s the identical value or a bit of decrease with extra options like digital wi-fi, however just about all of these are on sale or refurbished. The Cloud Stinger makes a very good, if easy, addition to your PC or console audio setup. Michael Crider For the extraordinarily comfy design and easy setup, this headset is a perfect decide for players who need straightforward stereo wi-fi with none flashy options. It isn’t a sensible choice in order for you larger constancy or portability, however for the phase it’s aimed toward, the Cloud Stinger hits the mark. Right here’s What We Like Extraordinarily comfy Light-weight Easy setup requires no drivers And What We Do not No microphone mute button Middling audio and recording high quality No on/off detection !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s){if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function(){n.callMethod?n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments)};if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0;t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)}(window,document,'script','https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js');fbq('init','1137093656460433');fbq('track','PageView'); Source link

[rosielovell-blog]

Half-term biscuits

It’s half term. Yesterday I made biscuits with my kids. It was pretty stressful. Cooking with children is not something I do often, or take lightly. It requires military planning. Basically you need to get everything so flipping ready, measured and bowled-up, that their version of cooking is nothing more than scattering a techno sprinkle, or in my daughter’s case, peeling a garlic clove, for which she is obsessed. You need everything laid out so that you don’t ever have to turn your back. Because as soon as you do, all hell will break loose, knives will be grabbed and flour will become a whirlwind around your kitchen. Be warned. As you may be able to glean, I don’t like cooking with my children. I usually have a pretty clear idea of what I want to cook and I don’t want impatient grubby fingers ruining my fun. It’s a pretty selfish narrative. 

However, after this little biscuit foray, I realised that the great thing about engaging children in the kitchen (if you have pretty much cooked the whole thing for them already) is that they are employed in an activity (this is possibly twelve minutes or entertainment for them) and you also gain a snack for a woodland walk or park excursion: You’ve killed two birds with one stone. How has it taken me six years to realise this?!

The ordinary pursuit of cooking with kids, rather like the bland and comforting biscuits themselves, is a well trodden path. Half term, basic, quite mundane, requires basic activities, small moments to break the time up and prevent the loop of Peppa pig and Dino Dana. The odd fleck of joy and sugar, a laugh here or there, between the ballistic shrieks. It’s lovely really. This is where mundane really comes into its own. A reliable biscuit, a reliable task. It’s not going to change the world and it’s been done before (probably by you, years ago with your parents) but it really has a value. They were genuinely into it.

The magic of these universal pastries is that they do not swell, which makes them absolutely ideal for cutter-life, and if you have children, you live in cutter-life. There is nothing more underwhelming than a biscuit which rises or puffs, thus loosing the sharp edged stars and hedge hogs. You need these snacks to keep their clean lines. I’ve used a heartwarmingly twee stamp on mine from Tiger which I adore. My children were more partial to snails and the like. So the ones you can see photographed are mine. Their’s were rubbish so I haven’t photographed them. Hence my problems with mixed aged cooking. That said we very much enjoyed eating them in the park today. It’s all good and I’ll definitely do it again. And if I can then you can too. 

125g unsalted butter

1/2 cup soft brown sugar

1 large free-range egg

2 cups plain flour

1/4 cup cornflour

a pinch of sea salt

some vanilla essence

Measure out the butter and sugar. Place these on a medium speed in a stand mixer or use an hand held electric whisk. Beat until these are pale and then add the egg, continuing to beat until combined for a few minutes. You may need to stop and scrape the edges with a spatula. Add the flour and cornflour, salt and vanilla. Work until it is almost all combined. This may take a while to get from a bread crumb texture to a ball which you can draw together. Use your hands to finally draw the biscuit dough up and make into a big round disk, the size of a main course plate. Wrap with clingfilm and place in the fridge for an hour or so to firm and set. 

Meanwhile, place the oven on 200 and line 2 or 3 sheets with greaseproof paper. Slice off two more greaseproof sheets. Bring out the dough and place it between the two sheets of paper. Roll until it’s 1/4 inch thick and then cut out. Keep bringing back any leftovers, rolling and using until there is nothing left. Bake in the oven for 8-12 minutes. Remove to a cooling rack. These could also be decorated with icing and sprinkles if you are trying to win mum-of-the-year.

[wordsmith-writerlady-blog]

Floating in Space

He stole us two suits. I have no sliver of an idea as to how on earth he did it, but I was excited enough to dissipate my suspicions. The moon glistened brightly in the distance, and the ship shuttered as usual, while we walked towards the Spacecraft Maintenance centre. We were not but little specks floating around space in a giant metal ship, along with 2.2 million other souls. All absurdly unique in their own different ways. But perhaps the kindest soul of all, Him. I’m talking about the nice boy from Room 2BA. He was oddly reading a book about the chickens’ reproductive system when we first met in the library. An unusual circumstance, and place to meet someone, but I never cared about that. All that ever crossed my mind, whether I was with him or not, was the simple but yet so very complicated feeling that is so stubborn, it just won’t leave me alone. I am unable to describe it. It’s like a fire inside me, a sort of fire I’ve never felt before.

Is it nerves?

Is it fear? No, it’s certainly not fear.

Is it worry, regret, or perhaps happiness?

Is it lust?

Is it love…?

The thought had brushed my mind at times before, when we would spend all night talking in my closet, each with torches under our noses, and silent voices not to wake my mother and sister. Or just last week at Christmas time, when he brought me a seashell. Oh how surprised I was to hold something from the home I never got to see. I imagined the warm and foamy ocean water that would have brushed it each time the tide was high. I imagined the hot sand grains under the sun that it would have sat in all day until a small child came along and picked it up for their overflowing shell bucket.

“How did you get this?” I asked as I finally regained my breath, taken by shock.

“Old man Kent from down the hall had three. I traded a few old books and a music box for the biggest one.” He replied with his usual sweetness shrouding his voice.

To this moment I hold this shell in my blue jeans right pocket. As we stowed down the curious but ominous looking hallway, I fiddled with it during my throttling excitement. As everyone partied with orange punch and snacks and happiness in the hall, celebrating another year, we snuck out by the cover of a crowded room. Of course it is only a troubled and finicky crowd that has need to celebrate just another plain old year. I’m sure 2094 will be no different than 2093. But for some untold reason, a part of me believes that to be untrue.

As the door we wanted to sneak through crept closer, he grasped my hand and tugged me faster. His touch made me jump, it made my heart race as we ran wearing baggy but rather scratchy suits, into a large and dark room with two big metal doors, bordered with yellow and black caution stripes.

“That’s the door.” He said before handing me a round helmet with a glass face.

With this particularly heavy astronaut hat clutched in my hands, my mind raced back and forth from scenario to scenario as he plugged a large tube into the back of my suit. It trusted cosy warm air throughout my suit and made me jolt momentarily.

“It’s okay, I’ve watched my Dad do this a million times.” He smiled with his warm and strong hands on my shoulders.

I turned to his loving and kind face, the smart, but sexy look about him made my breaths grow heavier by the second.

I held his hand in mine and whispered; “I trust you.”

And with that, he slid on my ridiculous looking helmet, plugged in his own tube, and own hat, before taking my hand once again. I squeezed it as tight as I possibly could, with excitement now turning into nerves, bashing rogue-like inside of me. He pushed a large red button and typed a 4 number pin into a beeping keypad. A green light above me lit, and a passable rumble shook my feet as air drained from the room. Slowly my boots began to lift from the floor with out me moving a muscle. And as quickly as I processed that, my entire body floated without hesitation. I couldn’t help but let a slight, but quiet and happy scream surpass my grinning lips. Close to me, he smiled and stared at my pure joy. I softly bit my lip in a heart racing reply.

 Time speed up from my slow and romantic thoughts and the thick metal door creaked open. As it revealed the stars and glowing sun on the other side, my smile grew wider and wider. Without a second thought, I drove myself closer to the edge. His hand still not parting with mine, we trusted out into the abyss of space.

Stars and beauty surrounded me and I felt like I was the luckiest person on the ship. Or even the luckiest being in general for that matter. At that moment I felt like my time with him was never going to end. I want to capture this feeling and hold it close to me for as long as I live. It was a complete sense of freedom that flowed throughout my veins, carrying love and blissfulness with it, it took control of my whole body.

 The sudden reality hit me, and I realized there was nothing below me, not wood, not concrete, not dirt. Just nothing. As I was stupid enough to look down, a hasty fear over took me, I wrapped my hands around him and fell into his arms.

“It’s okay.” He caringly assured me. “You’ll be okay. Now, go conquer the world.”

I floated slowly towards the dusty brown planet once called earth, covered in craters and rubbish piles it spoke to me, along with the sun to my left. And the half lit moon peaking over the world. It looked just like heaven itself; pure serenity, and ease.

I gaped over Earth and saw nothing but stars and, well, nothing. It’s an endless void, space. Some say it goes on for eternity, and nothing or no one will ever reach an end. But others say, at the edge of the universe, at the edge of the Milky Way, lies the spirits of any soul with a kind heart. God’s Promised Land they call it. Perhaps I will find my dad there someday. Someday…

But not today. Today I’m going to float here. Smelling the liberty so strong, it distracted me from what was presently happening. Arms around my waist. His warm, strong hands comforting me in my day dreams. His chin resting on my shoulder as he hugged me from behind.

But that all had to end at some point…

He enthralled my hands, delicately returning me to the maintenance room. He smiled at me through his helmet, and closed the doors behind us, as the room began to fill with air again.

“I love you.” I said after removing my own helmet.

Without another word, I took off his, exposing his kind face to the outside again. To my surprise, not a vowel came from his lips. Instead he stared at me with a blank expression, but still revealing his soul through his cosy brown eyes, he leant forward. Our noses inches from each other. Before I could brush my fingers through his curly brown hair, as I usually do, I felt his soft, warm lips pressed against mine.

[heavydutycivilptyltd]

Efficient and Professional Earth Moving Services in Browns Plains

When it comes to construction or landscaping projects, having reliable earth-moving services is crucial. If you’re in Browns Plains, you’re in luck! The local experts provide top-notch solutions tailored to meet your specific needs. Whether it’s residential, commercial, or industrial projects, Earth Moving Browns Plains is the go-to service for quality and efficiency. Why Choose Earth Moving…

[heavydutycivilptyltd]

Excavation Services in Browns Plains: Expert Solutions for Every Project

Excavation is a critical step in construction and landscaping. It ensures a strong foundation for your projects. Whether it’s residential or commercial, expert excavation services in Browns Plains are essential. Why Choose Professional Excavation Services? Professionals offer precision and safety. They use advanced tools to achieve accurate results. This prevents costly mistakes and ensures…