#and what if. revolutionary thought incoming.. what if this time i can be good and she won't feel like that!
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what i've been thinking about is how it can permeate everything if you feel, i guess betrayed by your parents because it's just hard to feel unsafe, if that makes sense? you know stability and safety are very basic needs so that sticks because it's the very foundation of who you are, if not even the people who RAISED you and made you want you then what does that make you. the afterbirth. slithered out of your mother's filth. they should've put you in a glass jar on a mantelpiece is what that's like
#for example she'll well she'll remind me sometimes that i'm not wanted by her either and act normal (loving even) the rest of the time and#it's a feeling of losing or having already lost like oh right i don't know what i was thinking or why i go right back to#deluding myself every time. but what if this time it's the last time she feels like that or says something like that.#and what if. revolutionary thought incoming.. what if this time i can be good and she won't feel like that!#and it doesn't have to be grand arguments with the music swelling in the background or screaming matches it does show in the mundane too#from day to day#so. i don't know where i was going with this. saying words recreationally. have i mentioned that i've got this drink and it's super green#kata.txt
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Our Angel of Brahma, pt. ix
Travelers. Friends. Mutuals. @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @the-private-eye @demonic-panini @gwenlena
SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS. MOTHERLY VOICE: I finally got a moment to myself thanks to Eber and Camilla… Thank the Goddess… I don’t know what I would be doing without them. (THE PERSON SIGHS) Where do I begin? I guess… my name would be a good start. (CLEARING THEIR THROAT) My name is Eevee Bell, and I am one of three to four dozen Dome Wardens on Brahma. Our duty is to perform routine maintenance on the planet’s Dome, track incoming and outgoing shuttles and ships, and monitor Brahma’s severe weather outside the Dome. I love my job. I think I do my job very well. From what I’ve heard about other planets, they have robotics and computers to do this job now. Artificial intelligence that the Solar Planets spent a fortune to perfect. Of course just like with everything else though, Brahma gets left behind in the dust. (EEVEE CHUCKLES UNDER HER BREATH) EEVEE: Goddess bless our savior New Kinshasa. (EEVEE LAUGHS A BIT HARSHER) EEVEE: What happened to us though has been brewing under their noses for some time now. I guess it was only a matter of time before… something was done. To be honest I’m still not entirely sure what did happen. I know that our alarms went off when the Reactor Core was removed, and I know they stopped going off when the Core was put back. I know that the Chief Constable called all of our stations, and ordered us to go home. I know that we have not gone back to our stations for nearly ten days. I know that if we don’t accept any imports within the next seven days Brahma will begin to suffer. And if we fall, New Kinshasa falls with us. Cyrus called me while I was rushing to get home to Baird. He asked me how much I knew and after I told him, I asked how much he knew. He said it would be better if he came to speak to me in person. He lives across town with Iris. I told him it wouldn’t be wise to meet up so late, especially with a curfew in place. He disagreed, but I talked enough sense into him that he waited until morning to catch a tram over here to the apartments. Baird was not enthused to see him. He was rather… indifferent, actually. I know it hurt Cyrus’ feelings, I do plan on talking about it with Baird when I can, but it’s so hard to talk about anything seriously right now. I’d rather keep things as light-hearted as possible. I sent Baird over to Camilla and Eber’s apartment while I had tea with Cyrus. He looked so worried. He asked me if I saw the Chief Constable’s broadcast about the Revolutionary, Peter Nureyev. I have. I watched it with Baird the night before after I got home from my post. Cyrus said that he doesn’t know of any Peter Nureyevs in any of his revolution circles. He surprised me by asking me for my thoughts about the Constable they allegedly found murdered by the Revolutionary. I didn’t at the time, and I still don’t now. Cyrus said that he has reason to believe that part was a lie. He doesn’t believe the Revolutionary killed a Constable. He thinks it might be an elaborate lie or cover-up for some more vain truth. (EEVEE INHALES SHARPLY) The revolutionaries are holding a meeting tonight. Cyrus invited me to come. He wants me there. I don’t want to get in trouble, but… I need to keep Cyrus and Baird safe. And by extension, it’s my job to keep Brahma safe. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.
SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS: EEVEE: What the fuck! NEW VOICE: What are you doing? EEVEE: What am I doing I’m recording you idiot! Cyrus, don’t you see? If what was discussed tonight has any truth to it, New Kinshasa isn’t going to let any of this get out. More than– I bet you my next paycheck that Dark Matters is going to play a role in covering it all up! (CYRUS TRIES TO SHUSH EEVEE) CYRUS: Alright, alright– you have a point. Keep your voice down alright the streets have ears… You really hope your little comms though is going to play a role in– This? EEVEE: Mark my word, I think my little comms will outlive both of us. If Baird’s lucky it will outlive them. (CYRUS GROANS. EEVEE GIGGLES) Okay, okay… I attended the meeting– CYRUS: The book club. We went to a late-night book club meeting. What? Don’t give me that look. Plausible deniability, Eve. EEVEE: Right. The Book Club. We attended Book Club and talked about the climax of a war story. In the story, the main character kills a man with radical ideas to overthrow their government. The man he killed was not popular amongst the rebels. In theory, they should have agreed with him. CYRUS: In practice, however, the rebels do not condone murdering hundreds of thousands of people. Thus the whole unpopular amongst the rebels. EEVEE: Of course, word got out about the man’s death, and to cover it up, the government claimed him as an Enforcer. And they were getting away with it because the last clothes the man was found in was a stolen Enforcer uniform. I don’t know if I believe the rebel or the government’s of the story– CYRUS: Eve– EEVEE: But! But. But I do believe that it was the right call for the rebels to sit back and wait for information to trickle out to them slowly… I think I’ll need to attend the next meeting to really make sure I understand what I’m getting myself into. Oh– I’m so tired. Can we discuss all this in the morning? With hopefully less ears listening in? (CYRUS HUMS AFFIRMATIVELY) CYRUS: I’ll even let you sleep in if you let me crash on your couch. EEVEE: Of course, I wouldn’t make you walk across town while already breaking our curfew. CYRUS: Thanks, Eve. (LONG PAUSE) Baird’s not going to be mad to see me, is he? EEVEE: This late at night? I doubt it. If anything he’s staying over at that Spade’s apartment probably fast asleep with Charlie. Oh, they’re so sweet together. I went to say good night to them one evening and I couldn’t kiss Baird’s head because Charlie had a death grip on his shoulders. He's always polite and entertains all of Baird’s whims… I wish you were around more to see it happen. CYRUS: You and I both know why that can’t happen. (BOTH OF THEM SIGH) EEVEE: You know he’s only so pouty around you because you and I split up, right? He just wants us all together again. Like a proper family. CYRUS: We are a proper family. Mom who works too hard, dad who left to get milk and never came back– see? Proper family. (EEVEE LAUGHS CAUSING CYRUS TO LAUGH) UNFAMILIAR VOICE: Hey, state your business and show your credentials. CYRUS: Shit, Constables. Run Eve! SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.
SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. RECORDING BEGINS. (EEVEE WHISPERS) EEVEE: Cyrus and I got away from the Constables last week perfectly fine. This week on Brahma: we went to another revolution meeting. A few old timers took roll call and one of them said he had reason to believe that the person the Angel of Brahma killed was one of theirs. A man who wasn’t the least bit popular in any particular revolutionary circle. Apparently, he wanted to drop New Kinshasa out of the sky and saw it perfectly fit to kill all of Brahma in the process. (EEVEE SCOFFS) The nerve of some people. No one at the meeting could remember his name though, and no one still knows who Peter Nureyev is outside of the photos projected on every billboard on the planet now. He looks so young. Those dark and haunting eyes and sharp teeth. I find it hard to believe that he’s just a teenager. But– he is. I’m trying to keep my voice down right now because Baird is asleep. The meeting was held before curfew this time so Cyrus went home to Iris and I walked alone back to the apartment. Eber was waiting for me just outside and before I could say hello he was dragging me down the halls to Hank’s apartment. His dog Missy was sprawled out on the sofa but Hank, Camilla, and Josie were all gathered around the dinner table. Mrs. Darius was upstairs with Talia, Charlie, and Baird. I sat down and told them everything I could. The revolutionaries wouldn’t let me record anything with my comms during the meeting, but there wasn’t much that I think needed to be recorded. Just talk about who was storing what, who was leaving their doors open to help others. There was a lot of talk about going on strike. Either food or labor. They want to send a message to New Kinshasa. I don’t think I can afford to do much of anything. Me and the other Dome Wardens just went back to work two days ago, we are working through a backlog of off-planet imports and exports still. If I strike alone I’ll just be fired. If all the Wardens strike, then the Constables will take over and that will lead to certain catastrophe. And if I stop eating then Baird will stop eating and he’s already so… short. Oh– I wish I got a chance to talk to Cyrus before we went our separate ways. He’d help me think of some way I can help. Better yet, he’d probably be able to give the others here at the apartments the answers they wanted from me. Hank didn’t say anything other than telling us to get out. Eber, Camilla, Josie, and I were silent on the walk upstairs. The kids were delighted to see us. Eber walked Talia back down to Hank, Josie was trying to fill in Mrs. Darius, and Camilla and I watched the boys play some sort of game where they kept pinching each other and trying to not shriek? I think that was the objective? Children’s games used to be much less violent when I was that age. I remember when– BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Memma? EEVEE: Bairdy! What are you doing awake? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I couldn’t sleep. You were being too loud. (EEVEE TSKS) EEVEE: Then let’s put you back to bed alright baby? C’mon. I’ll even sing for you if you’d like. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.
SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: I have either made the best decision of the revolution that will turn the tides in favor of Brahma, or the worst mistake of my life. I told the old-timers at this past meeting that I work as a Dome Warden, and that a few of my colleagues seemed interested in joining the rebellion but were uncertain on how to go about it. The old-timers were delighted for a number of reasons and had drawn the same conclusion that I had a few weeks ago when a labor strike was first brought up. They think it would be very good if I was able to get some of the other Wardens on board with the revolution. Cyrus was very quiet during the meeting. I asked him before we left if he had any opinions he was holding back, and all he said was to trust my gut. So… I trusted my gut. I told the other Wardens at my post about the meetings. I told them about going on strike. A few seemed skeptical. Others wanted to know when the next meeting was. I’m going to contact Cyrus and get him to help me get the others to the next meeting. I hope… this wasn’t a mistake. I guess time will only tell. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.
SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEW RECORDING BEGINS. EEVEE: –you turned it on. Good job, baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Mom, why are you showing me how to use your comms? Is something going to happen to us? Is something bad going to happen to you? EEVEE: What? Oh no, baby. Nothing is going to happen to me. I just think you would find more use out of my comms than I would. Look, since you got it to record you can start recording all those little songs you like to sing. Or maybe you can get Charlie to record a story for you. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): But Mom, I like your singing and your stories more. Will you sing for me? And tell me a story tonight? EEVEE: Absolutely not. You get one or the other. Take your pick. And whatever you don’t choose, you have to give to me. (BAIRD POUTS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… I want a story from you, and then I’ll give you a song. EEVEE: Good choice, Bairdy. What kind of story would you like? (BAIRD HUMS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): I want a story about Brahma. EEVEE: A story about Brahma? Well… there once was a boy born on Brahma with nothing. Not even a name. He grew up just like everyone else, hungry for more. More food, more freedom, more time. The boy followed a man who dreamed of dropping the New Kinshasa on top of the planet. The boy was very tired. Tired of being poor, tired of being hungry, tired of being alone. But he knew, that if he let that man drop New Kinshasa out of the sky, he would never be able to forgive himself. Brahma is his home. He looked down at Brahma from up high, and saw them: his people. Starving young faces just like his looked up to the sky and stared back at the city as it trembled. The boy had the power at his fingertips to stop a tragedy. This is it. The people thought. This is how we go out. Not with the big bang, but crushed under the heel of our jailor. The boy heard their thoughts. He felt a rush of adrenaline and stopped the man from getting away. The city of New Kinshasa never fell out of the sky that day. The people were ordered to retreat to their homes. But that evening, everyone heard about the great threat against the Guardian Angel System. And everyone learned the name Peter Nureyev. And for the first time in the last half-century, hope bloomed on Brahma. The Boy, The Legend, The Angel of Brahma. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): That’s not a story Memma, that’s history. EEVEE: And what is history but a story we have to learn from? Now, I believe you owe me a song. (BAIRD GROANS AND HUFFS) BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Fine… (BAIRD TAKES A DEEP BREATH AND HUMS. THE SOUND GETS CLEARER LIKE HE’S BROUGHT THE COMMS CLOSER) My angel, I must ask you keep singing for me. How sweet your tune, like a songbird at noon. What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. O’ My heart overflows, I could never let go. Like chimes in the wind, it must be destined. I’ll find my way home, with your voice I’ll never be alone. Happy? (EEVEE SNIFFLES) EEVEE: Very. Thank you, Baird. That was beautiful. (FABRIC RUSTLES, BOTH BAIRD AND EEVEE HUM) Promise me you’ll never stop singing baby. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Of course, Memma. I don’t think I could even if I tried. EEVEE: Good. Now– (EEVEE PRESSES A KISS TO BAIRD’S HEAD) Get some sleep. Okay? We have a long day tomorrow. And Bairdy? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Yes, Mom? EEVEE: You know that I love you, right? BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): To the moons and back, yeah… Mom you promised nothing bad was going to happen to you. EEVEE: And nothing will. Good night, Baird. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Night Mom. SOUND: DOOR CLOSING. BAIRD (FUTURE REVOLUTIONARY): Which button was it to end the recording? Was it this o– SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.
- EEVEE BELL. BAIRD BELL. must contact Frannie’s friend about both of those names. - Dome Wardens are indeed an old, out of date job. Eve is right, they’ve been replaced with robots. It’s actually kinda scary how right she was about things. About that, about Dark Matters probably covering everything up with New Kinshasa. - Cyrus and Eve sound so fun together. I can see why they got married and had a kid together. - Bairdy and Memma… right up there with Charls and Dearest. - Oh Baird, he was 12 when these recordings were made. 12. Just almost a teenager, not quite. Almost too old to be called a baby. - Eve loved Baird so much. She reminds me of my mother a bit. And she knew exactly what she was doing tucking Baird into bed that final time. There’s no doubt in my mind this is the last recording with her in it. She was taken away after this and never came back. The Dome Wardens did go on strike at some point according to Baird in other recordings, so did someone snitch to a Constable? Did she the Constable that almost caught her and Cyrus track her down? - I think that’s the most frustrating part of my job. No matter how much I dig and research, there are some things that will be lost to me forever.
#at some point this was like pulling teeth#so i may revisit it and rewrite some of it#or elaborate/add more#BUT im happy rn#funfact: the story eve tells is almost word for word what i wrote on buzzkillgirls post#about nureyev the legend vs nureyev the man#our angel of brahma#the penumbra podcast#private eye's keys go jingle jangle#the penumbra fanfic#a hotboy's writing#FUCKGING BIRDS NEED TO SHUT UP NOW SO I CAN SLEEP-
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Kill The Emperor!
Inspired by @kaixiety 's fabulous headcanon
“You can’t take me, Cinder!”
“Mama.”
Kai suppressed a smirk. “You can’t take me, Mama!”
“We’re gonna save you from Levana and you can’t stop us!”
Peony shoved a blue doll shoe into Cinder’s hand, aiming it at Kai. Well, the Emperor Kai action figure who was grasped in her father’s hand, under assault from the Linh Cinder “Revolutionary Princess” doll that she was holding.
The dolls were both a blessing and a curse. It was harrowing to see his sweet, pig-tailed daughter dangle him over a viper den, or have a shark tear off his arm so he could become a cyborg “like Mummy.” Not once did he envisage when he held that precious, innocent, downy baby in his arms that she would become a gore-obsessed four-year-old.
Nevertheless, all was forgiven when she had her Cinder and Kai dolls tuck doll Peony into her wooden bed and kiss her goodnight.
“Bang!” Peony shouted, firing the ‘gun.’ The Kai doll stayed upright. “Daddy,” she whispered, “I shot you.”
“Oh!” Kai flung his inanimate counterpart to the floor. “Mama tranquilized me! Now you can escape!”
“You’re asleep. You shouldn’t be talking,” she scolded.
“Right. Sorry.”
Kai heard a chuckle from across the room. While they sat crossed-legged on the living room rug, Cinder was at the dining table pecking away at her port. She was out here ostensibly to work, needing a break away from her office. That was most likely an excuse to spend time with them, as he knew it was impossible to concentrate on low-income benefit schemes with a daughter’s trilling and frolicking in one’s periphery.
But he knew he would do the same. He wouldn’t give up time with Peony even if it could undo every bad thing that had happened to him. Maybe that was why he happily reenacted his own kidnapping as per the little princess’ request. The scornful feelings he’d had at the time of the incident had aged like a bitter wine—stinging as a whole, but pleasant in small sips.
“Let’s go to the Rampion!” Peony announced cheerily as she dragged Kai’s prone body by the hair as any loving daughter would. What was left of it, anyway. Still, the bald patches were comparably better than the markers graffitiing his face. “There’s the ship! And Termaturge Mira is ther—”
“Wait,” Kai interrupted. “How did we get to the roof?”
Peony frowned. “We just…did.”
His eyes narrowed. “So no one tried to stop us on the way?”
“They’re stopping us now!”
Kai feigned agreement, folding his arms. “Okay, okay. If you insist.”
Peony crossed her arms in turn, petulant but sufficiently challenged. She was both stubborn and competitive, so an obstacle was sometimes the only thing that helped her learn. “Wait!” she exclaimed, gleaming in her copper brown eyes with a lightbulb moment. “We took the elevator and Mummy had to stop the guards!”
Kai nodded approvingly. He didn’t actually remember this part, having been the damsel under duress. Peony’s extensive scene-by-scene knowledge was thanks to endless probing of Mummy and her aunts and uncles.
Peony shuffled over to the couch, setting the dolls on her hand and lifting them up to the seat. Kai’s hands acted as the opening elevator doors. At its destination were three teddy bears in traditional imperial guard uniform—gifts from a certain adviser.
“There’s guards on the other side!” she cried.
Kai gasped. “What are we going to do?”
“You’re doing nothing,” she corrected. “But Mama always has a plan.”
A snort came from the dining table.
“You will protect us,” Princess Revolution declared to the guards in a soothingly sweet voice. Peony’s eyes scrunched tightly, casting her gift over the defenceless bears. “You will take us to our ship—”
In fact, Kai thought with a crinkling heart, it was a rather good impression of Cinder using her gift. She was near identical to her mother in the motion, and it was moments like these that floored Kai. Despite Peony looking so much like him, he saw Cinder in her anger and compassion and—
“—or I will kill the emperor!”
Kai startled. “What? That never happened.”
“Yes it did.”
Kai turned his figure’s head, speaking through him: “Cinder, you wouldn’t try to kill me.”
Revolutionary Princess faced the limp emperor. “I will if I have to!”
“Peony,” said Kai, breaking the farce. “Mama wouldn’t do that.”
She emphatically rolled her eyes. “No Daddy, Uncle Thorne told me that Mama putted the gun on your head ‘wike this.” She jabbed the doll shoe into one of his bald patches. “She said she would kill you! And Mama didn’t shoot, but if you don’t stop talking, I will!!!”
In a swift instant, in a flash, with chubby, grabby four-year-old fingers, Peony seized the doll from his hands with a war cry and slammed it into the couch.
“Whoa! Peony!”
The screeching continued. Emperor Kai got multiple knocks to the head.
A strangled laugh caught in his throat. He looked to his wife with a loose grin, expecting giggling over this blatant mischaracterisation.
Cinder was not paying attention to her port, as predicted. But she wasn’t laughing. Her face was indeed scrunched like Peony’s in thought. Then recollection.
“Cinder,” Kai called as the cries died down. “Tell her that didn’t happen.”
She tucked hair behind her ear, returning to her work. A quick swallow.
“Love?”
Peony hauled the emperor’s body to the rooftop, evidently having glamoured the guards into compliance. She hadn’t shot him.
Cinder’s nose pinched guiltily.
Memories poured back into him like long draughts of that bitter old wound wine. Those very guards whom Cinder had manipulated questioning whether she had good intent in marrying their emperor. Thorne often reminding him that he had been completely at their mercy when they’d knocked him out. Her ability to jokingly threaten him without a hint of remorse or hesitancy.
“Love.”
She avoided his gaze.
Never mind. He wasn’t over the kidnapping.
Notes
Kai and Peony playing together
I know what you're thinking: "Hang on impossiblesuitcase, you said you weren't going to post any new fic" and that is true comrades. I posted this a while ago as a reblog on another post so I thought it deserved its own post. Or maybe you weren't thinking that at all. You probably weren't.
#tlc#tlc fanfiction#the lunar chronicles#the lunar chronicles fanfiction#linh cinder#prince kai#emperor kai#married kaider#kaider
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It Seems
I readily recognize I don’t know everything, and I don’t pretend to, the thoughts of my critics notwithstanding; but it seems to me that, in their mismanagement, our government is treading a perilous path in these difficult times, rapidly approaching a line in the sand; which, if they cross, will lead us beyond a point of no return.
You might correct me on this, but I believe our country and our people are different from those of other nations. We are different, if for no other reason because we were born free. Personal freedom is ingrained in the minds of every one of us from the very beginning of our great nation–the Revolutionary War; and that inner subconscious belief continues with us to this very day–whether we were born here or immigrated. Freedom is ingrained in our culture–freedom of speech, freedom of thought, and freedom of action limited only by that of others, i.e., my freedom ends where yours begins.
In the beginning, our Constitution approved in 1789, was written and approved behind closed doors by the power elite of the time and given to us, the people, for our approval, effectively telling us we were free. Subsequently, the Bill of Rights (the first ten amendments) was added, again increasing our freedom. Further along in history, we decided that the people would elect members of the Senate, once again increasing our freedom. Then, in 1865, slavery was abolished, followed one hundred years later by the Civil Rights Act of 1965. As a nation, freedom is all we know–this is the color of all our glasses.
I mentioned earlier that our government is treading a perilous path. A government of the people exists for only one purpose–only one. That is to manage the affairs of our nation. As the Preamble to the Constitution says, “To form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity…..”. Managing the affairs of our nation, in my opinion, does not constitute playing chess with party politics at the expense of the people. I heard former Senator Tom Daschle say on Washington Journal this morning, to the effect that, what our government needs is a good dose of bipartisanship. I contend that what it requires is a good dose of patriotism–patriotism for our nation’s affairs. Rather than the one and one-half days per week, they are now working (they go home on Thursdays and return on Tuesdays), we require them to take care of business and relieve us from our overwhelming stresses, and you can believe–they are overwhelming to all of us. We can use a bit of that Tranquility right now.
Now, having provided the groundwork, I’ll get down to it. Our nation and our people are under immense stress right now. I’ve pointed it out over and over in my several postings to this blog, but I’ll briefly do it again:
1. We have approximately thirty million people either unemployed–looking for work, employed part-time, or who have given up looking. Our recession may be over, but we are still in depression.
2. Many, if not millions (I don’t know how many, but too many) are living in cars, under bridges, on the streets, or in homeless shelters. They are living on welfare, securing food from food banks, eating out of dumpsters and food kitchens, or whatever.
3. Since the 1970s, and more so since the 1980s, the income and wealth of our middle and under classes have steadily decreased right along with their standard of living. The rich have gotten much richer and the poor have become poorer.
4. As a result of the burst of the housing bubble and the financial collapse of the financial markets in 2008. Millions of our people have lost their homes, are underwater with their home mortgages, and over their heads in personal debt with no apparent way out.
5. Large corporations (long-standing members of the power elite, our Shadow Government), to increase their profits, have been outsourcing jobs to slave labor abroad, exacerbating unemployment and reducing tax revenues. You call it what you want, but a rose is a rose is a rose. I call it slave labor. Not all, to be sure, but many of our slaves in 1865 lived better than those to whom we are now outsourcing.
6. On top of all of the above, our nation is saddled with a national debt of $17 Trillion, accumulated over a short period of thirty-three years. A debt so huge that our ability to manage the nation's fiscal policy has been seriously constricted.
7. Now comes the Affordable Care Act, aka Obama Care. This nation severely needs a healthcare system. Every thinking person knows that. We require a new system to improve the health of our people; and we require a new system to reduce costs (and, therefore, our deficit). The way this system is designed, however, presents severe hardships to far too many of our people who live from one paycheck to another (if they are employed, that is) and employers.
8. I’m sure there are more sources of stress for our people at this time, but I’ll name one more and conclude this post. There is the stress of the NSA, our National Security Agency. This is a big thing, folks. If you don’t think so, why do you think they kept it a secret? Have you heard the news today? They are even monitoring many of our conversations as we walk down the street. Let’s cut this to the quick. Suppose our government can monitor us this closely. In that case, they are only half an inch away from having the ability to dominate and control us, just as many dictators have done throughout history. Adolph Hitler and Joseph Goebbels would have loved to have some of our security systems. Are you a Democrat? Are you a Republican? Mmmmm……
Now, folks, tell me. Isn’t this more than enough stress and uncertainty? I submit to you that these problems are and/or can be simpler to solve than our government, Democrats and Republicans alike, are making them. They are simple, but they are significant, however. It has to be obvious to all that our people are in turmoil and under heavy stress. It’s a known fact, also, that our people are armed to the teeth, just as is our Department of Homeland Security, which has been buying ammunition for billions of dollars for quite some time. There is a lot of political propaganda on the website, but so also is such with Fox News, MSNBC, etc.–You can sort out the truth from fiction). My point is that, surely, our government doesn’t want to continue its present governance, introducing even more stress points upon our people. Trust in government is the lowest in many years. We don’t want it to go even lower, so let us not let Pandora out of the box. Once she is out, it will be a long time before she gets back in, if ever. Once the first shot is fired, what little democracy we have left will be gone, I believe, forever.
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40 Things I Wish I’d Known at 40
That family, flowers and walks in the woods would bring me more happiness than cars, watches and houses ever would.
That getting super-fit would multiply my creativity, productivity and prosperity considerably.
That your choice of relationship partner is one of the main sources of your success (or failure), joy (or misery) and tranquility (or worry).
That I’d do my finest work when I’d be working in hotel rooms and flying on airplanes rather than when chained to an office desk.
That good friendships are priceless treasures. And that old friends are the most precious ones.
That heaven helps those who help themselves. So do your best and let your higher power do the rest.
That people putting you down is a sign of your increasing success.
That the priorities I thought were most important in my youth are actually the pursuits I’m least interested in as I mature.
That silence, stillness and solitude form the sweet song that most attracts the Muse.
That small daily victories, performed with disciplined consistency over extended periods of time, lead to revolutionary results.
That when I didn’t get what I desired it was because the universe had something a whole lot better in mind.
That being scared just means you’re about to grow. And that frequent discomfort is the price of accelerated progress.
That if you risk all for love and it doesn’t work out, there is no failure because all love stories are, in truth, hero tales. And no growth of the heart is a waste. Ever.
That working diligently without concern for the rewards is the very behavior that brings the rewards.
That just because someone is aging doesn’t mean they are growing.
That life has a fabulous feedback system showing you what you are doing right by where you are winning (and what you need to improve by where you’re frustrated).
That it usually takes twenty years of working anonymously before you acquire the wisdom and expertise required to know what to leave out of a piece of work so it becomes extraordinary.
That the humbler the person, the stronger the character.
That your income will never exceed your self-identity. And your impact will never be larger than your personal story.
That we get what we settle for. (So stop settling for what you don’t want.)
That sometimes silence is the loudest reply you can give.
That the way people make you feel when you interact with them tells you everything you need to know about them.
That taking a lot of time off would make me twice as productive.
That feeding the trolls is a waste of your time. Most critics are jealous because you did what they couldn’t do. Ignore them. And allow mastery to be your response.
That bullies become cowards once you stand up to them.
That journaling is praying on paper. And every prayer is heard.
That a genuinely rich life costs a lot less than you think.
That some people in business will tell you they’ll do amazing things for you, but once the deal is signed, they’ll end up doing nothing for you.
That the activities and places that fill you with joy are the activities and places where your wisdom wishes you to be.
That the best use of money is to create experiences and memories and not to secure objects and possessions.
That willpower is built by doing difficult things. So do more difficult things. (Daily.)
That it’s better to read a few books deeply than consume many books lightly.
That hardship is the birthplace of heroism. Honor your scars as they have made you you.
That the majority of human beings have wonderful hearts and they’ll show them to you if you make them feel safe.
That elderly people have the best stories. And deserve the highest respect.
That all life has huge value. Don’t ever step on a spider.
That when you feel most alone, your higher power is closest to you.
That not every hour of the day and not every day of the week needs to be used “productively” and “grinding.” Taking naps, staring at the stars and, sometimes, doing nothing are pursuits absolutely necessary for a life of unlimited beauty.
That respecting yourself is vastly more important than being liked by others.
That life’s too short to play small with your highness.
- from The Everyday Hero Manifesto
(the bold ones are the ones I like the most)
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Perhaps I my writing resembles the people this post is meant for.
Actions do matter more than words. Although it is sometimes good to not rush to action, I would agree that actions always matter more.
Perhaps my response should have addressed this and perhaps it came across as a defense of inaction, irresponsibility, apathy and pseudo-intellectual distance to other people. For people who may have taken the wrong lesson from those words of mine: Those are not defensible. If a homeless person wants some money and you have steady income, you can absolutely make an impact in that person’s life by giving. And the excuses people offer up to not help homeless people are pretty lies to comfort the apathetic.
I would also agree with your other examples: calling local representatives (especially calling them sternly, addressing your concerns loudly and clearly and motivating others to join you) is an excellent use of anybody’s time and well worth it. It actually changes the things in small but meaningful ways. It may not address some of the core problems (there simply are often roadblocks) but -- depending on who you are and why you are calling -- it often is worthwhile.
[I can’t say I’m the perfect judge of when it is or isn’t worth your time to call a local representative. But I don’t think it requires much genius or learning. Basically think about whether political pressure might solve your problem and keep yourself alert for signs that it doesn’t. If it doesn’t help, try to learn what does help.]
What we want to avoid is that we simply “make things better in small ways” such that we actually feel like things overall are bearable. Instead, we should want to “change things in small ways” so that things are overall more changeable and not lose our appetite for change.
To be absolutely clear about my previous post:
Your actions have more than one impact. The problem I have with “bake sales” isn’t that they happen or that people participate in them or that they aren’t “big enough” or “change enough” for me to participate in. They can offer hope, and that matters. They can feed someone and the donations can be used in beneficial ways and that matters. I would certainly participate and encourage participation in community actions like that.
Online and IRL, I see no discussion about “key” changes. Maybe if I reach out to all the people in need that I can think of, spend gas money or write emails to all orgs in my region to network and simply get involved, perhaps that will yield the insights I need to (A) take action and (B) learn about key changes from established activists, from people whose experiences with suffering have given them remarkable insight, etc.
I can’t help but note that OP & you both are not establishment democrats, who, I would assume, act and do something, but clearly not enough / not the right thing. The difference between the establishment bake sale and the more serious bake sale is happening at the level of thought. Everybody who reads OPs post knows this at some level. If the “communists LARPing as revolutionaries” (or the OP) actually do a bake sale, they will do so with a different perspective than the establishment Democrat. So why did OP disavow this obviously implied idea? Why all this context about “thought crimes aren’t real, neither is benevolent thought”. Isn’t the whole reason people like OP would disavow establishment democrat thought that their benevolence AND their actions are both not enough?
By valuing theory (”establishment dems suck, I’m not one of them”) but pretending not to (”look to establishment dems, they participate in real action, unlike their critics”) the OP lives in a comfortable position.
OPs insights are all true:
we can’t reward people for just thinking stuff
you can read all you want, but if you never act, you never accomplished
you can argue on Twitter all day, but that never affects the world
someone who buys a muffin for charity does more in that moment than someone who merely thinks about cool ways to do positive community action
It doesn’t matter who has the most “correct opinions”, what matters is that anything gets done at all.
If you don’t even vote in elections, it’s entirely possible that you are affecting nothing in the world [I don’t actually know if this is true...but let’s grant OP this point under the assumption that a show of numbers even in an oligarchy tells the oligarchs they are outnumbered and will face major resistance.]
People who put all their money on communist revolution are far less effective than people who donate to valid causes
Reading Marx doesn’t fix the world.
But after reading this OP’s post, would it not either (A) deter people from all the theory I discussed in my previous post (with all the good that can entail) or (B) discourage people from taking action because...
the elephant in the room is that they don’t take action because they don’t know what action to take? Moniquill, if you hope to accomplish anything on Tumblr, would it be to produce more Establishment Democrats? Probably not, right?
My guess is, you want people to act like them...but not act like them.
The things OP is talking about are typically referred to as “conquentialist” ethics. You know, if you aren’t impacting the world (with good consequences), you aren’t doing good. I think consquentialism is a great thing, but ironically consequentialism is itself also an idea. When OP says that there is “no thought benevolence” I think we should rephrase that: there is thought benevolence and it rarely matters.
The difference between “thoughts never matter” and “some thoughts matter sometimes” is important. Actions matter more? Sure, that’s what I wrote at the top. But that’s an argument to take actions in the right direction (and get better at figuring out the direction) not an argument to be an inactive thinker because establishment democrats donated more muffins this week than I did and are therefore winning in the marketplace of morality.
I had this revelation while waiting for my train to work
If theres no such thing as thought crime, theres also no such thing as thought benevolence.
If you can't be persecuted for actions not taken from the privacy of your own head, you also can't be rewarded for it. What really matters is what you DO, regardless of how "good" or "bad" your thought patterns are.
You can read all the theory you want and argue on twitter all day, but if you don't actually do anything, you're not doing anything. Someone who buys a muffin at a local fundraiser bakesale does more for directly positive community action than someone who has all the "correct opinions" about political topics while refusing to even vote. An establishment democrat who kicks 20 bucks to a queer youth charity does more for positive community action than a communist who won't do anything that doesn't directly lead to some fantasy revolution
You can't replace action with thought. Yes you've read all of Marx and talk a lot, but do you actually like, DO anything?
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hey did u see that article where labor said they want to consider aus becoming a republic if they get re-elected next term? thought it was pretty interesting and defs good timing— let's be honest the queen isn't gonna live much longer so they probs want to take advantage of that and the transition happen that way. do u have any thoughts?
this feels like such a strange question to receive, so, honestly? spicy take? i think it's pretty much irrelevant to anything material or real about australian politics. rant incoming!
like yeah sure, it's archaic to have the british monarchy as our head of state, but it has no real on the ground effect, and becoming a republic or not is basically just symbolic. "oh but the queen could dissolve parliament and replace the PM if she want--" yeah, and becoming a republic won't stop the UK and/or the USA from changing the direction of aus politics either overtly or covertly. if our superpower patrons don't like what our government decides to do, it'd be far more easier for the CIA to quietly remove the PM than get king charles to do it... they've done it before, ~~allegedly~~~, and imho, i don't think it's too crazy to think there were foreign government hands in play at the removals of rudd and turnbull, not just newscorp... sure it sounds tinfoil hat. but like. when has the USA (and to a lesser degree the UK) not meddled in international politics to sure up their own positions? we're their western country in the pacific, being a republic won't change that; gotta have a staging ground for the upcoming war.
i think a far more radical stance that should be put on the table is admitting that australia, as a nation (in the wesphalian sense), is the ongoing perpetuation of 200+ years of colonisation born from genocide, and every australian government and PM had directly inherited its power from that bloodshed.... and then asking how we, not as a "nation", but as a group of people living on a shared land, want to go forward with that, and what we might actually want a fresh system of governance to look like.
it's obfuscated by the changing of party hands and pretending like each new government is a new entity instead of just the ruling classes changing the team colours and top guy; but however you slice it, each PM has been handed power by the previous one, who was handed it by the previous one, right back through the white australia policy and boundary streets and "fauna" and terra nullius.
obviously not a position any extant aussie government is going to put forward, admitting that the concept of "the australian government" is a direct lineage of violent occupation.... much easier to pretend whether or not we should be a republic is an actual meaningful question that might affect the lives of people that live on this land, traditional owners and immigrants/colonists alike.
it's why john howard let us have a referendum on it, ask the people "should the queen be in charge, or an australian president?", frame it as a bold question at the very brink of what's possible, so that questions like "should we continue to let colonist power be in charge, or maybe rectify mistakes of the past instead?" seem far beyond the brink of what can be imagined.
albanese must know the incredible civil unrest and polarised divisiveness and revolutionary zeal (both left and right) that is bubbling up in the country.... best to give the plebs a release valve, the illusion of control, the facade of democracy. "we'll let the people decide the future of the country", while structurally changing nothing that could threaten the system that brought him power.
labor is a centrist party, and we shouldn't confuse our relief at throwing the far right coalition in the bin for hope that labor will bring meaningful change. they can't do anything meaningfully different, or they wouldn't be allowed to run the country; and whether or not the monarchy is officially in charge doesn't matter to the men (both within our borders and within foreign governments) that make the real decisions about what a government is and isn't allowed to do.
that said, the brits should definitely overthrow the monarchy and reclaim all their land and assets for the people, that'd probably be real neat for them; and i feel like just the phrase "king charles" is incentive enough for many.
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For Whom the Bell Tolls
Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...
There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.
One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.
The one who knows.
The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.
And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness.
What, in god’s name, will you find?
Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy
Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)
Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops.
A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u.
Corruption.
It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.
And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.
But the need to win was still present.
However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...
All to please one man...
Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.
However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.
To outkill one another...
What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.
You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.
The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.
“He’s probably horribly deformed...”
“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”
“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”
“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”
“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”
You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.
Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.
“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”
“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”
“Maybe he’s cursed...”
“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”
“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”
With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.
“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”
“We know what’s up there-”
“Or rather- who's up there.”
Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...
It’s said to be the home a monster.
The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.
The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.
And they never returned...
Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.
Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.
“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”
“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”
“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”
There are opposing rumors you suppose.
One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.
The one who knows.
The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.
“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”
The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.
You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.
The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.
Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.
You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.
It always has.
Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...
Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.
But times were hard...
With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.
And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.
Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.
And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.
The limp in your father’s movement.
The blisters on your mother’s hands.
The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.
Exhaustion was palpable.
Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.
As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.
“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”
“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”
“How could you possibly work any longer-”
You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.
“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”
The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.
“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”
With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.
This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.
Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.
So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.
Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.
Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.
The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.
It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.
Limited hours mean limited sales.
Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.
However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.
The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.
And there it is: the tower.
It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.
There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.
If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?
With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.
The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.
The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.
The layout doesn’t make sense.
The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?
You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.
You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.
Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.
And then, someone speaks.
“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”
The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.
“Who are you?”
As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.
Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,
“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”
Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.
“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “
“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”
This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.
“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.
“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”
You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”
“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”
Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”
“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”
There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.
“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”
Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.
“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”
Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.
“Name your terms, I will do my best.”
“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”
You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.
“How does it work then?”
Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”
You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”
Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”
For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.
And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.
“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”
“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”
It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.
“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”
“Don’t lie to me...”
Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.
“What do you mean?”
“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”
It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...
But you didn’t.
You were undeniably intrigued.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”
When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.
“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”
It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.
“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”
Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is- what happens once it has you.
“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”
This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.
“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.
You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.
“Sort of...like a melody.”
Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.
Beautiful.
Not an it but a he...
A man with wings.
On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.
“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.
Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”
The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”
Perhaps the clergy was right...
“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”
His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”
“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”
Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.
“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.
Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”
He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.
“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.
You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”
He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”
There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.
And this is what has kept you frozen.
“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.
He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”
The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.
“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.
“I won’t.”
Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”
For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”
This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”
The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”
With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.
Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.
But he had vanished.
You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.
Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...
The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.
You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.
Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.
Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.
You know you should be terrified.
You know you should be wary.
But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.
The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.
You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.
12:32am.
The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.
As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.
You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...
Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.
The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.
“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”
Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.
He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.
“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”
He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”
Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”
He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”
Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”
Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”
And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.
Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.
The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.
Not yet at least...
You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.
“May I tell you a story?”
His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.
“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.
He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.
“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”
Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.
Not yet at least...
“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”
The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.
You had been walking awhile.
“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.
He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”
“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”
He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”
His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.
“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”
Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.
It all fits together too well...
He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”
Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”
He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”
Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.
And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.
“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”
Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.
The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.
A rogue wave.
The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.
“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”
Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.
“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”
His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.
“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”
He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.
“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”
You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.
Only the darkness does...
And it’s the darkness that consumes you.
“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”
That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.
“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”
You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.
“She’s awake!”
Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.
“Oh my- its really you...”
She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.
“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.
She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,
“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”
And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?
How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?
Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.
Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.
She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.
The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.
Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.
The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.
Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.
As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”
He merely smirks, “None of it.”
You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”
Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”
“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”
His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”
Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.
“Wh-”
“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”
“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.
He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”
You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”
It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.
You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.
“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”
You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...
“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”
You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”
He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.
He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.
For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...
You were certainly no exception.
But you want to keep teasing him...
Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.
“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”
Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.
“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”
Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.
This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...
Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.
Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.
“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.
“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”
“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”
He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.
“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”
And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.
With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.
Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.
Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”
Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”
You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.
“Did you mean it?”
And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.
“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”
You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”
If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.
“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.
You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”
Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”
“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.
He nods again, “They are.”
You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”
Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...
“I was just the first one to return.”
A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...
#ficswithluv#bangtansorciere#jimin#park jimin#bts#bts jimin#jimin smut#jimin x reader#bts smut#bts writing#jimin writing#jimin fanfic#bts au
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Happy STS! How does the meritocracy in New Nobelia work? I find that a very interesting system to explore @writingonesdreams
Thank you for this ask!!! I've had a ton of fun developing New Nobelia so I appreciate this question!! ;A; <3 <3 <3
New Nobelia is led by a council of [still figuring out the exact number] people who serve for twenty-year terms. Given how fast New Nobelia progresses, this is a veritable era!! A council member's last act before leaving office is to choose their replacement. Especially near the end of their career, they are sent portfolios from those seeking to sit on the council.
The most traditional way of getting onto the council is through these carefully curated portfolios that typically include things like personal philosophy statements, proposals for future projects, work history, inventions, patents, personal accomplishments, etc. The council has a pretty good history of being pretty diverse and taking on council members who are older with lots of concrete experience, and younger members who fresh, promising ideas. New Nobelia also has their version of universal basic income (called the "Citizen Stipend" so people can spend less time laboring and more time inventing and creating, grants are also really easy to get), so economic status isn't really a consideration. There aren't any systems in place that dictate how diverse the council should be, but valuing multiple perspectives is a huge part of Nobelian culture, so it usually just happens organically.
(Education is also free, with VERY robust systems of support in place for neurodivergent learners, so while they keep educational background as a big consideration, it doesn't have the classist and ableist implications we'd find IRL.)
A less frequent, but still common enough way to earn a seat is to dedicate your life to one major project and use that as a major centerpiece to show off your qualifications. The inventor of the chickadee post was invited to take the next open council seat because it was such a revolutionary piece of "technology" for society!
To provide some oversight, the remaining council members will still interview the chosen candidate and they do have veto power, so it behooves the leaving council members to be very thoughtful about their replacements.
If a council member dies or is booted off the council before their term is up, the council creates a hiring committee to discuss and review prospective candidates, and then the normal process of interviewing and approving of them takes place.
And that's what I have so far! I still have a lot to flesh out so it holds up better under scrutiny, but I hope it shares a little insight into the character and culture of New Nobelia.
#storyteller saturday#wip: HOM#I keep going back and forth between this council being like twenty or so people or being much bigger.
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@kaixiety apologies I have no self-control.
“You can’t take me, Cinder!”
“Mama.”
Kai suppressed a smirk. “You can’t take me, Mama!”
“We’re gonna save you from Levana and you can’t stop us!”
Peony shoved a blue doll shoe into Cinder’s hand, aiming it at Kai. Well, the Emperor Kai action figure who was grasped in her father’s hand, under assault from the Linh Cinder “Revolutionary Princess” doll that she was holding.
The dolls were both a blessing and a curse. It was harrowing to see his sweet, pig-tailed daughter dangle him over a viper den, or have a shark tear off his arm so he could become a cyborg “like Mummy.” Not once did he envisage when he held that precious, innocent, downy baby in his arms that she would become a gore-obsessed four-year-old.
Nevertheless, all was forgiven when she had her Cinder and Kai dolls tuck doll Peony into her wooden bed and kiss her goodnight.
“Bang!” Peony shouted, firing the ‘gun.’ The Kai doll stayed upright. “Daddy,” she whispered, “I shot you.”
“Oh!” Kai flung his inanimate counterpart to the floor. “Mama tranquilized me! Now you can escape!”
“You’re asleep. You shouldn’t be talking,” she scolded.
“Right. Sorry.”
Kai heard a chuckle from across the room. While they sat crossed-legged on the living room rug, Cinder was at the dining table pecking away at her port. She was out here ostensibly to work, needing a break away from her office. That was most likely an excuse to spend time with them, as he knew it was impossible to concentrate on low-income benefit schemes with a daughter’s trilling and frolicking in one’s periphery.
But he knew he would do the same. He wouldn’t give up time with Peony even if it could undo every bad thing that had happened to him. Maybe that was why he happily reenacted his own kidnapping as per the little princess’ request. The scornful feelings he’d had at the time of the incident had aged like a bitter wine—stinging as a whole, but pleasant in small sips.
“Let’s go to the Rampion!” Peony announced cheerily as she dragged Kai’s prone body by the hair as any loving daughter would. What was left of it, anyway. Still, the bald patches were comparably better than the markers graffitiing his face. “There’s the ship! And Termaturge Mira is ther—”
“Wait,” Kai interrupted. “How did we get to the roof?”
Peony frowned. “We just…did.”
His eyes narrowed. “So no one tried to stop us on the way?”
“They’re stopping us now!”
Kai feigned agreement, folding his arms. “Okay, okay. If you insist.”
Peony crossed her arms in turn, petulant but sufficiently challenged. She was both stubborn and competitive, so an obstacle was sometimes the only thing that helped her learn. “Wait!” she exclaimed, gleaming in her copper brown eyes with a lightbulb moment. “We took the elevator and Mummy had to stop the guards!”
Kai nodded approvingly. He didn’t actually remember this part, having been the damsel under duress. Peony’s extensive scene-by-scene knowledge was thanks to endless probing of Mummy and her aunts and uncles.
Peony shuffled over to the couch, setting the dolls on her hand and lifting them up to the seat. Kai’s hands acted as the opening elevator doors. At its destination were three teddy bears in traditional imperial guard uniform—gifts from a certain adviser.
“There’s guards on the other side!” she cried.
Kai gasped. “What are we going to do?”
“You’re doing nothing,” she corrected. “But Mama always has a plan.”
A snort came from the dining table.
“You will protect us,” Princess Revolution declared to the guards in a soothingly sweet voice. Peony’s eyes scrunched tightly, casting her gift over the defenceless bears. “You will take us to our ship—”
In fact, Kai thought with a crinkling heart, it was a rather good impression of Cinder using her gift. She was near identical to her mother in the motion, and it was moments like these that floored Kai. Despite Peony looking so much like him, he saw Cinder in her anger and compassion and—
“—or I will kill the emperor!”
Kai startled. “What? That never happened.”
“Yes it did.”
Kai turned his figure’s head, speaking through him: “Cinder, you wouldn’t try to kill me.”
Revolutionary Princess faced the limp emperor. “I will if I have to!”
“Peony,” said Kai, breaking the farce. “Mama wouldn’t do that.”
She emphatically rolled her eyes. “No Daddy, Uncle Thorne told me that Mama putted the gun on your head ‘wike this.” She jabbed the doll shoe into one of his bald patches. “She said she would kill you! And Mama didn’t shoot, but if you don’t stop talking, I will!!!”
She seized the doll from his hands with a war cry and slammed it into the couch.
“Whoa! Peony!”
The screeching continued. Emperor Kai got multiple knocks to the head.
A strangled laugh caught in his throat. He looked to his wife with a loose grin, expecting giggling over this blatant mischaracterisation.
Cinder was not paying attention to her port, as predicted. But she wasn’t laughing. Her face was indeed scrunched like Peony’s in thought. Then recollection.
“Cinder,” Kai called as the cries died down. “Tell her that didn’t happen.”
She tucked hair behind her ear, returning to her work. A quick swallow.
“Love?”
Peony hauled the emperor’s body to the rooftop, evidently having glamoured the guards into compliance. She hadn’t shot him.
Cinder’s nose pinched guiltily.
Memories poured back into him like long draughts of that bitter old wound wine. Those very guards whom Cinder had manipulated questioning whether she had good intent in marrying their emperor. Thorne often reminding him that he had been completely at their mercy when they’d knocked him out. Her ability to jokingly threaten him without a hint of remorse or hesitancy.
“Love.”
She avoided his gaze.
Never mind. He wasn’t over the kidnapping.
Kai and Peony playing together
I like to imagine that Kai doesn’t find out about this part of the kidnapping until several years later when he hears his kid repeat it after being told a story by another member of the rampion crew
#tlc#tlc fanfiction#the lunar chronicles#the lunar chronicles fanfiction#linh cinder#prince kai#emperor kai#married kaider#kaider
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Kriegsmesser
When I received Kriegsmesser in the mail I finally googled "kriegsmesser", and found out it meant "war knife". Which makes sense; Gregor Vuga's ZineQuest 2021 project is a tribute to "roleplaying games named after medieval weapons".
I love Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay's piss-renaissance Old World setting. I tend to pick up WFRP-a-likes sight unseen:
Warlock (quality);
Small But Vicious Dog (yesss);
Zweihander (which I have come to hate); etc.
Anyway: I backed Kriegsmesser without really knowing anything about it. So Kriegsmesser surprised me.
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Kriegsmesser grew out of a Troika! cutting. Its 36 backgrounds are compatible with that system: each come with a couple of lines of description; a list of skills and possessions; an a visual cameo cropped from actual 16th-Century woodcut art.
Cohesive and competently flavourful. My favourite is the Labourer, who always starts with "an empty pine box":
"You've spent your life breaking your back, working hard for other people's profit. You have nothing to show for it but a spectre of the future."
(The obligatory ratcatcher-analogue , called the Vermin Snatcher, is here -- check that box!)
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Kriegsmesser also comes with its own ruleset. Hits all the notes it needs to, with lots of orientation and advice for how to run a game -- but ultimately super-simple, mechanically:
Roll d6s equal to the value in a relevant skill, look at the highest result. 6 means you get what you want; 5 or 4 means you get what you want, at a cost.
It's not quite a dice pool, since only the highest result matters. No opposed tests.
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Kriegsmesser intends to have this base mechanic handle fights, too. The combat rules - with armour, toughness and weapon values -- are nested in an optional section.
For a WFRP-a-like, this feels like a purposeful departure.
Many of WFRP's most celebrated adventures are celebrated for bits that their underlying ruleset does little to support: the investigative structure of "Shadows Over Bogenhafen"; the complicated timetable of "Rough Night At Three Feathers".
Ludwig von Wittgenstein never needed a statblock to be memorable.
Not to say that lethal, hyper-detailed fights isn't super Warhammer-y. (Kriegsmesser includes an injury table, broken down by body-part -- check that box!)
But here it feels like Gregor is saying: "I'm not Games Workshop and Roleplay isn't an ancillary of Warhammer Fantasy Battle; we can evoke grim-and-perilous-ness even if we fork away from heavy combat rules."
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It has become ritual for me to read my partner Sharon to sleep.
Sometimes I read her RPG things. The other night, after I read her Kriegsmesser's introduction --
" The Empire wages an eternal war against Chaos. Its priests preach of Chaos as an intrusion, something unnatural ... These men see Chaos in anything that does not buttress their rule. They call it disorder, anarchy, corruption. They say that to rebel against their order is to rebel against god and nature. That the current arrangement is natural, rather than artificial.
" Meanwhile, the common people look to the Empire to deliver the justice that they were promised and they find none. They look to the Empire and do not see themselves reflected in it. They look around at what they were taught was right and good and see only misery.
" Their world begins to unravel. Chaos comes to reside in every heart and mind sound enough to look at the world and conclude it is broken. "
-- Sharon remarked: "Nice one."
The RPG things I read her generally leave Sharon lukewarm. She has enjoyed a couple -- but, yeah: for many of these books, text isn't their strong point.
Kriegsmesser is the only time I can recall Sharon praising the writing of an RPG book without my prompting.
Nice one.
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That introduction surprised me. It underlines Kriegsmesser's biggest departure from its WFRP-a-like pedigree: how it characterises Chaos.
Corruption, a mainstay of most grim-dark-y games, is made an optional rule, like combat. Explaining this, Gregor writes:
" Kriegsmesser partially subverts or deconstructs the traditional conceit of Warhammer where the characters are threatened by the forces of Chaos. In this game it is the player characters who are the agents of 'Chaos': they are likely to become the 'rats' under the streets, and the wild 'beast-men' in the woods bringing civilisation down. It's the Empire and its nobles and priests that are corrupt ... "
Describing the Empire, Gregor writes:
" The Empire encompasses the world yet is terrified of the without. It enforces itself with steel and fire yet considers itself benevolent. It consumes the labour of others with bottomless hunger yet calls its subalterns lazy, or wasteful, or greedy. "
Holy shit this is the first time I've seen the word "subaltern" in an RPG thing, I think?
I love this.
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Rant incoming:
With every passing decade Warhammer abridges its Moorcockian roots more and more; nowadays it is "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", pretty much.
Gone are the days when chaos berserkers are implied to grant safe passage to the helpless (because Khorne is as much a god of martial honour as he is a god of bloodletting); Or that the succor of Papa Nurgle is a genuine comfort to the downtrodden; Or that Tzeentch could unironically embody the principle of hope, of change for the better.
As Chaos is distilled into unequivocal villainy, Order goons get painted as Good Guys by default --
Giving rise to Warhammer's contemporary problem, wherein fans are no longer able to recognise satire.
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When I was introduced to 40K, it seemed pretty clear that the Imperium was a Brazil-esque absurdist-fascist bureaucratic state: planets are exterminatus-ed due to clerical error; the way it stamps out rebellions is the reason why rebellions begin in the first place.
Tragi-comic grimdarkness. That was the point.
Nowadays that tone has shifted -- and you're more likely than not going to encounter a 40K fan who argues that the Imperium's evils are a justified necessity, to prevent worse wrongs.
We went from:
"Space Nazis because insane dumbass fuckery, also chainswords vroom vroom rule of badass!"
To:
"Space Nazis because it makes sense actually, and also chainswords make sense because [insert convoluted rationalisation here]."
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Even Fantasy Flight's Black Crusade line, which ostensibly offers a look at 40K from the perspective of Chaos, never truly commits to its conceit.
With prep you could play a heroic band of mutant freedom fighters, resisting the tyranny of the Evil Imperium --
But I don't remember Black Crusade giving that kind of campaign any actual support. Its supplements service the relatively more conventional "You can play villains!" angle; the Screaming Vortex is a squarely Daemons-vs-Daemons setting.
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This tonal drift culminates, in my mind, with Age of Sigmar, Games Workshop's heroic-fantasy replacement of the old WFRP / WHFB setting.
Here's the framing narrative for AoS's recently-launched Third Edition. Let's see whether I've got things right:
A highly professionalised, technologically-superior tip-of-the-spear fighting force (the Stormcast Eternals);
Backed by an imperialist military-industrial complex (Azyrheim);
"Liberating" rich new territories (Ghur) for exploitation by a civilised settler culture (Settlers of Sig-- I mean, Free Cities);
Justified because the locals are irredeemable heathens (Chaos and Kruleboyz).
I mean, that's a sweet-ass Warhammer setting. It's contemporary, laser-guided lampoon. Except it is played totally straight.
In AoS, a literal crusade is justified as the moral good.
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I think Kriegsmesser surprised me because its framing of Chaos -- as a promise, as the light of hope shining through cracks of a broken world --
It feels so fucking right.
Yes: its a subaltern deconstruction of the conventional moral universe of Warhammer -- but it is a take that is also already implied / all but supported in the various depictions of the setting: from WFRP to the modified title-crawl of Black Crusade.
I'm annoyed I didn't think of it, myself. Damn you, Gregor!
And I'm annoyed that more Warhammer fans aren't thinking it, also.
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lmagine if Kriegsmesser's perspective stood on equal standing as the GW orthodoxy. Imagine if, instead of simplifying stuff into "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", GW did a Gregor Vuga.
You'd have a Rashomon-ed Warhammer, where villainy depends on perspective:
You are fearful villagers, huddled around your priest, muttering prayers against the wild braying coming from the trees beyond your gates.
You are Aqshyian tribeswomen, defying the thunder warrior towering over you, the foreigner demanding you bow to his foreign god.
You are a Tzeentchian revolutionary cell, desperately trying to disrupt a Inquisitor's transmissions so your home planet isn't destroyed by fascist orbital fire.
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Get Kriegsmesser HERE.
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( Image sources: https://theenemywithinremixed.wordpress.com/2021/05/21/thoughts-on-the-4e-death-on-the-reik/ https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/59-brazil https://www.deviantart.com/faroldjo/art/Warhammer-40k-Black-Crusade-273596035 https://www.warhammer-community.com/2021/06/09/fancy-a-new-life-bringing-order-to-the-mortal-realms-join-a-dawnbringer-crusade-today/ https://www.nme.com/blogs/the-movies-blog/team-america-15-anniversary-south-park-2558750 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palestinian_children_and_Israeli_wall.jpg )
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The history of Social Media
It’s hard to imagine a time when there was no internet and no Social media. Social Media is a part of modern live, just like telecommunication and the internet itself. We all use it and exceptions are quite rare, especially among the younger generation. How did Social Media emerge? And how did it evolve? Let’s take a deep dive into this subject.
The start of Social Media
Social Media is of course tightly interwoven with internet. In the past, when you were looking for information or wanted to engage in social contact, it often meant you had to go out. For information you went to the library and for social contact to friends, bars playgrounds etc.
With the emergence of the internet we suddenly had the world in our grasp from behind our computers. Later in the 90’s Social Media slowly started to arise. In the early 21st century Social Media really started to grow significantly with platforms like MySpace, Twitter and Facebook. For the first time people could share their thoughts, believes and ideas with as many people as they’d like, known and unknown alike.
The evolution of Social Media
This revolutionary concept seemed to genuinely want to bring people together over great distances. But tthrough the years the influence of the central organizations behind these platforms started growing. Arbitrary censorship is a good example of one of the drawbacks of these traditional Social Media platforms. There are quite a few examples of that from Facebook and Twitter, growing each year.
Also a big factor in the evolution of Social Media was that companies started taking more and more interest in the commercial potential of the data of Social media users like you and me. Social Media was and is a true treasury for commercial companies with lots of potential clients easily reachable. The traditional centralized Social Media platforms became very commercial and started collecting data points of their users to sell for marketing activities. You can imagine how convenient it was (and is) for companies to easily reach thousands of potential clients of which they already know are interested in the goods they sell. Obviously respect for privacy came in second place. Or should I say last?
My thoughts
So what are my thoughts on this subject? I think it’s time for a new era of Social Media. Let’s call it Social Media 2.0.
First of all Social Media should be decentralized and policies about censorship and privacy should be decided upon by the community or users instead of a central management. Furthermore, income should not come from companies who are praying on the private data of users. In other words, Social Media should evolve, but should also go back to basic: It should be about the users, their content and bringing people together. About people sharing with the world without restrictions. But who will fill these shoes?
Good thing I found a project where all these things are combined. A web3 based decentralized Social Media platform where the users are in control, where censorship is minimized and where privacy is respected. But maybe the most revolutionary about it is the way creators and users can make money. Interested how, check out their website! The project is called Solcial and I advise everyone to check it out.
Check out https://Solcial.io to learn more about this amazing project!
How to get in Touch with Solcial:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/solcialofficial Telegram: https://t.me/solcial Blog: https://blog.solcial.io/ Wiki: https://wiki.solcial.io/ Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/solcial/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/solcialofficial/ Web: https://solcial.io/ Email: [email protected]
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Toad to Redemption!
(I’ll cover Maddie and Marcy in a separate post)
Unpopular opinion incoming; But I actually enjoy Toadstool, that child of Rich Uncle Pennybags and Colonel Sanders! Specifically, his recent character development, as well as the progress and change he’d gone through in this episode… I dunno, I always felt that as a jerk, he was definitely aggravating as he was meant to be, so it was a welcome change of pace to see a Jerk character actually change for the better. I’m a sucker for that kind of a trope.
Not to mention, I like how this episode is getting into Newtopian politics lowkey, especially through Jacinda! You can tell that while not explicitly said aloud, Newtopia is trying to do damage control with Grime’s recent Toad rebellion, and this of course involves doubling down on past areas out of control with their own appointed Toad cronies and minions; And how they don’t care for actual competence at this point, they just want someone who will actually listen to them and their riches in the face of Grime’s revolution. I think it’s a clever little commentary about how Newtopia is clearly prizing control above all else with its Frog-Toad-Newt caste system, and how Toadstool actually caring about the people of Wartwood is concerning; It’s about a certain class solidarity (because there’s more similarity between Toadstool and the Frogs than Toadstool and the people in Newtopia), because Hop Pop ALREADY had that Frog revolution going on…
Combined with Grime’s Toad Revolution, and Toadstool being an advocate for these frogs, and it could hint at Frog-Toad solidarity in both movements, which of course Newtopia wants to avoid at all costs! This episode was some very nice and clever character arc-building, but also a means of worldbuilding and discussing the status quo, how it’s changed, and hinting more at the political climate and values of Newtopia in the face of this recent revolutionary spirit. Plus, Toadstool as a choice for Jacinda works, because he actively opposed Grime in the past, so it seems like he wouldn’t side with the dude in a revolution… But then it turns out the dude actually cares about people, and that idea went down the drain.
Also, I like that Toadstool had actual consequences to an outright refusal; It makes his inability to say no a lot more understandable and more of a dilemma, because he’s already MADE his mind… And GOD, I know I keep saying it, but I love how Anne is becoming more of a mentor these past few episodes! How people are looking up to her, how she was a kid who didn’t know what to do, but now others feel safe to count on her because of HER own maturity, and it’s a reversal of Anne being a blind follower of Sasha… And the parallels between her and TOADSTOOL of all people, and how Anne getting to be a side character and help others in the town, allows the opportunity to flesh out Wartwood more! And again, as I’ve said before, I’m a sucker for when the main protagonist is viewed under the lens of a side-character for an episode, it’s just such a fun way of exploring them and others!
That people actually feel like they can look up to Anne, that she’s having this seasoned, veteran attitude towards Toadstool’s dilemma, of “Yeah I’ve been there!”, it kind of reminds me of Hop Pop in a sense and I like it! She’s becoming a mentor of her own, that’s another thing to bond over with him… At least, amidst the revelations of you-know-what, but I digress! Also I love the acknowledgement that of course Marcy is going to be studying Frobo, it explains why she’s not present, but it also shows that yes, she IS taking advantage of this… And dang, the jokes about Outhouses and the color green just make themselves with Marcy, huh- She really IS the successor to Shrek…!
And Bog and the others returning, I was really glad! At first I thought they were working for Grime, which would’ve further brought in the political situation of Toad tower, but apparently not- I’m glad to see them back, and I thought the resolution with Bog being placed in charge was a fun continuation of his character and debut, and how HE introduced us to Toad Tower in the first place… I have to wonder if Bog will become more of a major character, and if he’ll choose to side with Newtopia for riches, or if Grime will be able to sway him back to his side when the time comes! That’d be interesting to see… And again, Jacinda’s choices show what Newtopia is actually looking for, and Grime and Anne misunderstanding what Jacinda wants in a leader, is indicative of, like… This assumption of there being more good faith in the rule of Newtopia, than there ACTUALLY is!
Also, based on Toadie being a kid in Anne’s Halloween story… I take it this means that Toadie IS a kid within the actual Amphibia universe as well? It’d definitely explain more that bit at the end when Toadstool is coddling and comforting him… Sir, that’s his Emotional Support Son! All in all, a good episode, and one I expected to enjoy, but it actually ended up being even BETTER!
#amphibia#amphibia toadstool#mayor toadstool#amphibia toadie#amphibia jacinda#amphibia bog#toads#worldbuilding#speculation
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london does not love its masters. no matter how dearly select few of them may love it. a city is made of its people, rather than the industries of the one percent that rule over it. what comes with hatred comes with revolution tenfold, and with love among the most hated, so too danger. if adrien were able to get a word out, he'd probably laugh and say he's not even surprised. four times he'd nearly been killed by fires' direct actions, either as part of the masters or its own individual folly. the one time he hadn't even thought about it would be the one time god would mock him with success. he should've prayed harder for forgiveness, when he gave up on a heaven among the stars and settled for one in the arms of something alien. if he hears its quips or its reassurances, he doesn't let onto it. by time it's taken him into its arms, he's unconscious, blood that isn't his marring its cloaks, but destroying his clothes more than. he was already dead. now he seems a bit deader.
and were it that ruckus could come with a warning! the doctor knows of chaos before it ever reaches them, the voices that whisper a symphony in their ears barely able to utter a word before the streets of london are alight with screams and screeching. mr fires doesn't even have to make it close before they know, and by that time, mr plagues is standing at the head of their own clinic, a huddle of other guests downtrodden hidden behind the curtains at the back. too injured to run from the incoming danger, but too scared to come out of hiding. they don't even stop them. it's probably for the best!
and there it is. a roaring pyre, a flame fit to its title. the eyes on plagues' mask flicker red, a simulated blink as they shift their own black cloaks, beak parted in mock gasp.
"you could have just opened the door, mr fires. there was absolutely no reason for you to be so brutish. you will be paying for damages." this is no time for quips, they can tell. rarely ever has london ever seen fires at its full fury, they would guess — even when rock had split from ceiling and allowed beams of light down 'pon its populace, it hadn't been so violent. but it will not kill nor hurt them. clearly it needs their help. fancy that! plagues' attention falls to the dying caitiff. dead? dying. dead? well. at least it chose a cot for him. whoever it belonged to now, cowering in the back of the infirmary, would certainly not complain, lest their head be separated from their neck. "you are fowl—" plagues huffs indignantly as it whips around, drags them! and yet, even as they stumble, their tone of voice betrays their own madness, "—get it? like a bird. anyways, you're rude! the nerve of you to barrel in here and demand my services! i work with the poor and downtrodden."
they throw their arms out as they circle the occupied cot, gesturing vaguely in adrien's direction. he's remarkably peaceful for a dying man. dead? dying. dead! not a single trace of pain left on his face. porcelain, if it weren't for all those unseemly freckles. "which does NOT constitute you, now does it? your little light is hardly a pauper under your care! hmph."
... they wouldn't turn him away, of course. they're miffed by the lack of delicacy, though. the masters are terribly brutish. disgusting things. oh, but what a poor boy, the other one! their eyes flicker again, then they turn to look down at him proper. they hardly have to look far. it's pretty clear he'd been shot. enter wound, no exit. a bullet to the heart? ah, likely a silver bullet. inquisition! no. sherlock.
back and forth, voices in their head. cassius ashburnum? no! never! he wasn't the revolutionary type. cassius married irons, burned down his old life, set off anew — framed. starboy, this one. taking the brunt of a sin not his own.
the doctor stays silent for longer than anticipated, and one would think the damn caitiff would just bleed out at that point. but he's a kindred, so it doesn't really matter. he's good as dead. dying. already dead. nothing brings a vampire back from a stake to the heart, be it wood or silver. "what exactly do you want me to do, mr fires? i am a doctor, not a bloody miracle worker. you know what happens to kindred whose hearts are harmed. short of bringing the judgements themselves down here, you may as well kiss him goodb—" they trail off, staring a little harder. judgements? gods. the gods. london has gods, but not judgements, not on paper. but they're not different. just different societies. all holy. " ... hm. now there's a thought."
they're clearly not listening to fires or its threats! they mumble to themselves for a mite longer, and then— "you idiot!" they raise their hand and slap it down on fires' head. "don't touch him! hurting his physical body isn't going to do you any favors! if you're going to take out your anger, do it to something else!" it has bad bedside manners! dead or no, it shouldn't be throwing his arm around! "i can't heal dead, fires! and your little friend here isn't like other londoners. when kindred die down here, we don't come back." that's to say... get out of their way! they push fires back, then whip back around, rolling him over to look at the wound. he's definitely dead. or about to be. "do you know silas elial edwards? of course you do! he hates adrien, married to the prince of london, etcetera, etcetera. write a note of summons and give it to the dove on my door plate. tell him if he doesn't come within ten minutes of receiving said summons, i'll have him assassinated in his sleep. you can find my wax stamp for identification purposes on my desk in the backrooms, past all the ladies and gents cowering from you in the back. shoo, shoo. be quick."
in tandem with speaking, they've taken to tearing at adrien's shirt, head cocked as they examine the wound. the way they move, they're intending to remove the bullet, clearly. for all the good it'd do. at least it wouldn't be in him, though. now, they're mumbling to themselves.
"hunters! well, mr fires deserves this. not you, though. how very sad, they've dragged you into all this. cassius, she called you. oh, you've been betrayed."
what a lovely evening it'd been, compared to most. it'd been so long since they had time for a proper outing ... much as it had begged at its own behest, it needn't matter how much it pushed and prodded : they would be halfway out the door and he'd wrestle free from its grip, and it'd complied, always, accepting another night in together instead. it'd grown fond of their strolls through the sidestreets since their wedding. he'd gotten significantly less nasty glances, in any case. at least that it'd been able to notice. but that was lovely! a sweeter change of pace, a newfound sense of peace where they both had been so sorely without. it really can't help itself, the way it tugs him closer, vying always for affection he'd begrudgingly give to satiate every lopsided grin. it does the same now, bumps the side of his head with its nose, ears flicking anticipant under its cloaks; quivering with excitement and ecstasy. and it is greeted with a warmth it does not expect, when it bows its head, nuzzling its cheek up to his own. wet, and warm, and red.
blood splatters.
there is a moment of pause; of bleary recognition where stunned into a chilling silence—it freezes entirely. and perhaps that is a sight more horrific than its blood-spattered lover, where it is often so quick to turn to explosive anger : the twitch of its claw outstretched, moments away from curling around his cheek, the slow shudder of a chill that should not exist creeping up its spine, body quivering against every slow, careful blink. it is a ticking time bomb, and everyone knows it. the crowds react before it does, arm it had already kept snug around his waist suddenly an anchor to deadweight. around them, the citizens of the neath scatter like rats, none lingering more than a spare glance out of a shuttered window or peeking around curtain layers out of a morbid curiosity to see what would follow. once a crowded street lay nearly deathly-still, with only the master of embers and its caitiff partner half-dead and slumped over in its tightening grip. when it speaks, at last, its voice trembles. a grating sound, its shrill whisper : " adrien—? "
it clicks all at once. and it must have screamed his name after, a shriek not unlike those that fled where it whips around to cradle him, push his weight over the bulk of its shoulders where he can still bear to stand : but the rest is such a blur. adrenaline it does not know—or hasn't felt in quite some time. he's still warm, as much as that matters for kindred ; but it is a miracle for it, who clings to the feeling still of his fingers grabbing onto its cloaks, the trace hints of his heat through the fabric where the iron-sting of his blood for once instead makes its stomach turn like a ventrue's. there's no telling what would come when the candle flickered out, or if he would fall unconscious before the spell released its grip, but there's no time! a luxury even london's masters could not afford in their finer moments, and certainly not now, here.
" shut up! " harsh words, perhaps, to a wounded man, let alone one it loves so dearly. but the growl to its voice is no more directed towards him, himself, than it is a means of assuring itself. silence to the nagging voices that beg remind it that these things do happen, would happen, for having the gall to believe it could have fallen in love, and more than that, that it was worthy of keeping it. " . . . save your breath, little light. i promise i will not let you fade. " it doesn't expect him to respond to its pleas, most murmured, where it isn't hissing or spitting vitriol at every passerby. in truth, it doesn't want him to : it just wants him to survive. just look at me.
the masters do not deserve to know its tragedy : and they will know, but not all of them must—only one, in particular, matters in the moment. where it weaves between what few people remain littering the streets, and the streets themselves at a pace notably inhuman. it's no wonder his feet can hardly keep up, laying half-dead aside. it has to scoop him up in its arms eventually, when its pace outmatches what his body can bear, and where it cannot allow itself flight it makes the most of its speed otherwise; eyes darting to every suspicious shadow in pursuit of two drastically different individuals. the first : their hunter. his hunter. his blood is no longer hot against its cheek, though it seeps uncomfortably against the front of its cloaks, how it has him cradled against its chest. but the second ... is much more difficult.
" plagues! " its voice is a roaring pyre, loud and unmistakable itself if it hadn't practically barreled its way into their office. and it may as well have, the damage its kick has done to it. not that it matters, its trembling in fear and anger alike by time it has cleared off a cot, the only care given to adrien himself—set down gingerly despite its shaking claws. there is not a hint of the hesitation it held before : it whips around near immediately, grabbing the newest master by their own cloaks to drag them—much like it had the one currently curled up in on themselves—to his side, throwing them forward to make their own assessments. " hunters, " it hisses, though it's anger is a flickering flame; it is its own distress that is much more palpable, features twisting in a similar agony where its claws curl around one of his arms. he's getting colder. " you're a doctor, aren't you? fix this! " it doesn't mean to be so harsh, not to grip him so tightly or throw his arm down when it flails its own outward in broad, exaggerated gesture. " to be quite frank with you, i don't care what you have to do. but if he dies, it is your head as much as it is his killer's—do you understand? "
#this is a rly bad reply but reviving old threads hard and also i haven't written them in... like a year#sob emoji#` ✞ the doctor. ⁞ i see your darkest dreams‚ they’re no longer make believe.#` ✞ fires & adrien. ⁞ it’s blasphemous‚ but holy. i’m nervous and tripping over my words‚ you’re so pretty it hurts.#londonfallen#omg a multi chara thread#fear
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Good Morning World Friday, November 1, 2024, Jacksonville, Florida USA It Seems To Me
I readily recognize I don’t know everything, and I don’t pretend to, the thoughts of my critics notwithstanding; but it seems to me that, in their mismanagement, our government is treading a perilous path in these difficult times, rapidly approaching a line in the sand; which, if they cross, will lead us beyond a point of no return.
You might correct me on this, but I believe our country and our people are different from those of other nations. We are different, if for no other reason, in that we were born free. Personal freedom is ingrained in the minds of every one of us from the very beginning of our great nation–the Revolutionary War; and that inner subconscious belief continues with us to this very day–whether we were born here or immigrated. Freedom is ingrained in our culture–freedom of speech, freedom of thought, and freedom of action, limited only by that of others, i.e. my freedom ends where yours begins.
In the beginning, our Constitution, approved in 1789, was written and approved behind closed doors by the power elite of the time and given to us, we the people, for our approval, effectively telling us we were free. Subsequently, the Bill of Rights (the first ten amendments) was added, again increasing our freedom. Further along in history, we decided that the people would elect members of the Senate, once again increasing our freedom. Then, in 1865, slavery was abolished, followed one hundred years later by the Civil Rights Act of 1965. As a nation, freedom is all we know–this is the color of all our glasses.
I mentioned earlier that our government is treading a perilous path. A government of the people exists for only one purpose–only one. That is to manage the affairs of our nation. As the Preamble to the Constitution says, “In order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity….”. Managing the affairs of our nation, in my opinion, does not constitute playing chess with party politics at the expense of the people. I heard former Senator Tom Daschle say on Washington Journal this morning, to the effect that, what our government needs is a good dose of bipartisanship. My contention is that, what it needs is a good dose of patriotism–patriotism for our nations’ affairs. Rather than the one- and one-half days per week they are now working (they go home on Thursdays and return on Tuesdays), we need them to take care of business and relieve us from our overwhelming stresses; and you can believe–they are overwhelming to all of us. We can use a little bit of that Tranquility right now.
Now, having provided the groundwork, I’ll get down to it. Our nation and our people are under immense stress right now. I’ve pointed it out over and over in my several postings to this blog, but I’ll briefly do it again:
1. We have approximately twenty million people either unemployed–looking for work, employed part- time, or who have given up looking. Our recession may be over, but we are still in depression.
2. Many, if not millions (I don’t know how many, but too many) are living in cars, under bridges, on the streets, or in homeless shelters. They are living on welfare, securing food from food banks, eating out of dumpsters and food kitchens, or whatever.
3. Since the 1970’s, and more so since the 1980’s, income and wealth of our middle and under classes has steadily decreased right along with their standard of living. The rich have gotten much richer and the poor have become poorer.
4. As a result of the burst of the housing bubble and financial collapse of the financial markets in 2008, millions of our people have lost their homes, are under water with their home mortgages, and over their heads in personal debt with no apparent way out.
5. Large corporations (long standing members of the power elite, our Shadow Government), in order to increase their profits, have been outsourcing jobs to slave labor abroad, exacerbating unemployment and reducing tax revenues. You call it what you want, but a rose is a rose is a rose. I call it slave labor. Not all, to be sure, but many of our slaves in 1865 lived better than those to whom we are now outsourcing.
6. On top of all of the above, our nation is saddled with a national debt of $17 Trillion, accumulated over a short period of thirty-three years–a debt so huge that our ability to manage the nation’s fiscal policy has been seriously constricted.
7. Now comes the Affordable Care Act, aka Obama Care. This nation severely needs a healthcare system. Every thinking person knows that. We need a new system to improve the health of our people; and we need a new system to reduce costs (and, therefore, our deficit). The way this system is designed, however, presents severe hardships to far too many of our people who live from one paycheck to another (if they are employed, that is) and employers.
8. I’m sure there are more sources of stress to our people at this time, but I’ll name one more and conclude this posting. There is the stress of NSA, our National Security Agency. This is a big thing, folks. If you don’t think so, why do you think they kept it a secret? Have you heard the news today? They are even monitoring many of our conversations as we walk down the street. Let’s cut this to the quick. If our government can monitor us this closely, they are only half an inch away from having the ability to dominate and control us just as many dictators have done throughout history. Adolph Hitler and Joseph Goebbels would have loved to have some of our security systems. Are you a Democrat? Are you a Republican? Mmmmm……
Now, folks, tell me. Isn’t this more than enough stress and uncertainty? I submit to you that these problems are and/or can be simpler to solve than our government, Democrats and Republicans alike, are making them. They are simple, but they are significant, however. It has to be obvious to all that our people are in turmoil and under heavy stress. It’s a known fact, also, that our people are armed to the teeth, just as is our Department of Homeland Security which has been buying ammunition by the billions of dollars for quite some time. There is a lot of political propaganda in the website, but so also is such with Fox News, MSNBC, etc.–You can sort out the truth from fiction). My point is that, surely, our government doesn’t want to continue their present mis-governance, introducing even more stress points upon our people. Trust in government is the lowest in many years. We don’t want it to go even lower, so let us not let Pandora out of the box. Once she is out, it will be a long time before she gets back in, if ever. Once the first shot is fired, what little democracy we have left will be gone, I believe, forever. Good Morning World Friday, November 1, 2024, Jacksonville, Florida USA From: Steven P. Miller, @ParkermillerQ, gatekeeperwatchman.org TM Founder and Administrator of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups. #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO.
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What Will Segregated Society Look Like for the Unvaxxed?
August 09, 2021
Story at-a-glance
High-profile restaurant chains like Shake Shack and Union Square Hospitality will require staff and indoor diners in New York City and Washington D.C. to show proof of COVID “vaccination,” starting September 7, 2021
Vaccinated-only bars and restaurants have also popped up in Seattle, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Oakland, Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta, Boulder, St. Louis and New Orleans
A growing number of private companies are also requiring workers to participate in human medical experimentation or forfeit their job. High profile examples include Facebook, Google, Twitter, Lyft, Uber, Saks Fifth Avenue, The Washington Post, BlackRock, Ascension Health, Netflix, Walmart, the Walt Disney Corporation and Morgan Stanley
PayPal is vowing to block transactions and cancel accounts held by “extremists” and anyone endangering “at-risk communities,” which could include just about anything, including anti-vaccine rhetoric
CNN anchor Don Lemon has suggested unvaccinated people ought to be barred from buying food in grocery stores and have their driver’s license taken away
In 2020, the proposition that COVID-19 countermeasures would come to include forced vaccination and vaccine passports, resulting in a segregated society where only those participating in the COVID injection experiment have human rights, was labeled a wild conspiracy theory unworthy of discussion.
Fast-forward to August 2, 2021, and Forbes announces, “No Vax, No Service: Here’s Where Bars and Restaurants Across U.S. Are Requiring Proof of Vaccination.”1
No Jab, No Dining
According to Forbes,2 high-profile restaurant chains like Shake Shack and Union Square Hospitality are leading the way, requiring all staff and indoor diners in New York City and Washington D.C. to prove they’ve received the required doses of COVID-19 injections, starting September 7, 2021.
New York Mayor Bill de Blasio hailed the decision, saying others will follow — and indeed, they did, with de Blasio himself announcing August 3, 2021, that proof of vaccination will be mandatory for all indoor dining, visiting gyms and going to movie theaters in the city:3
“This is a miraculous place literally full of wonders,” Mr. de Blasio said. “If you’re vaccinated, all that’s going to open up to you. But if you’re unvaccinated, unfortunately you will not be able to participate in many things.”
Several New York City eateries were already checking vaccination status, and during the last week of July 2021, the San Francisco Bar Owners Alliance urged its 300 members to require proof of COVID-19 injection or a negative COVID test for patrons wanting to have a drink indoors.
Several Los Angeles restaurants, bars and comedy clubs are also following suit, as are more than 60 establishments in Seattle. Vaccinated-only restaurants have also popped up in Oakland, Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta, Boulder, St. Louis and New Orleans.
Since COVID countermeasures are a global lockstep operation,4 the same segregation trend is emerging in other countries as well. On the other hand, in Florida, where I live, businesses are prohibited by law5,6 from requiring customers to show proof of participation in the COVID jab experiment.
No Jab, No Job
A growing number of private companies are also requiring workers to participate in human medical experimentation or forfeit their job. As reported by Axios,7 this includes Facebook, Google, Twitter, Lyft, Uber, Saks Fifth Avenue, The Washington Post, BlackRock, Ascension Health, Netflix, Walmart, the Walt Disney Corporation and Morgan Stanley.
As mentioned, Florida prohibits businesses from requiring customers to provide proof of COVID “vaccination,” but it does not bar companies from mandating vaccination for its employees.
For now, Disney’s jab mandate only pertains to salaried and nonunion hourly employees, but according to Yahoo! News,8 Disney is in negotiations with union officials who represent theme park employees and members of its movie and TV production crews. The goal is to extend the vaccine mandate to union employees as well.
In May 2021, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission decreed that it is legal for companies to require employees to get the COVID shots.9 This despite the fact that the four available COVID injections are only authorized for emergency use and are as yet unlicensed.10 Testing is not expected to conclude for another two years.
No Jab, No Business
Private companies also have the right to not mandate COVID shots, of course, but standing up for workers’ right to choose could hamper their ability to conduct business at all, as PayPal is now vowing to block transactions and cancel accounts held by “extremists” and anyone endangering “at-risk communities,”11 which could include just about anything at this point.
Seeing how the White House is promoting the idea that people who question the safety and effectiveness of COVID shots are “killing people” and the Center for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH) labels anti-vaccine rhetoric as a form of hate speech, is it a stretch to suspect PayPal will start taking down the accounts of so-called “anti-vaxxers”?
Business owners and self-employed entrepreneurs who speak out against other official narratives probably face the same risk. Venture capitalist David Sacks recently commented on the situation:12
“When I helped create PayPal in 1999, it was in furtherance of a revolutionary idea. No longer would ordinary people be dependent on large financial institutions to start a business …
But now PayPal is turning its back on its original mission. It is now leading the charge to restrict participation by those it deems unworthy … [W]e are talking about … shutting down people and organizations that express views that are entirely lawful …
If history is any guide, other fintech companies will soon follow suit … When … your name lands on a No-Buy List created by a consortium of private fintech companies, to whom can you appeal?
As for the notion of building your own PayPal or Facebook: because of their gigantic network effects and economies of scale, there is no viable alternative when the whole industry works together to deny you access.
Kicking people off social media deprives them of the right to speak in our increasingly online world. Locking them out of the financial economy is worse: It deprives them of the right to make a living.
We have seen how cancel culture can obliterate one’s ability to earn an income, but now the cancelled may find themselves without a way to pay for goods and services.
Previously, cancelled employees who would never again have the opportunity to work for a Fortune 500 company at least had the option to go into business for themselves. But if they cannot purchase equipment, pay employees, or receive payment from clients and customers, that door closes on them, too.”
If this trend continues, which it probably will, might people who question COVID shots and/or refuse to participate in human experimentation be barred from having a credit card or a bank account?
No Jab, No Food
Some are promoting even more severe punishment for the unvaccinated. Yet, it’s not enough for some thought leaders that unvaccinated individuals can’t enter a bar or restaurant, and might lose their ability to send or receive money for goods and services using PayPal (and potentially other digital transaction services).
For example, CNN anchor Don Lemon recently suggested unvaccinated people ought to be barred from buying food and have their driver’s license taken away.13,14
Why is fascism so commonly associated with genocide …? It is because it needs a unifying force powerful enough to sweep aside all resistance. ~ Charles Eisenstein
I’d like you to conduct a thought experiment, and think this through from start to finish. What would your life be like if you were:
Barred from driving
Barred from working and earning a paycheck
Barred from sending or receiving money online
Barred from having a bank account and credit card
Barred from eating food at a restaurant (assuming you somehow got the cash to pay for it)
Barred from buying food in a grocery store (again, assuming you somehow got the cash to pay for it)
Are Lemon and countless others actually saying it is acceptable to make half the U.S. population homeless and starve them to death in order to, theoretically, prevent the spread of an infection that, so far, has had a 99.74% survival rate?15
Mob Morality
To understand what’s really happening and what Lemon’s rhetoric is accomplishing, I highly recommend reading Charles Eisenstein’s article “Mob Morality and the Unvaxxed.” It’s an excellent and thought-provoking piece. Here’s a few chosen excerpts:16
“We would like to think that modern societies like ours have outgrown barbaric customs like human sacrifice … we don’t actually kill people in hopes of placating the gods and restoring order. Or do we? …
Not just any victim will do as an object of human sacrifice. Victims must be, as [legal scholar Roberta] Harding puts it, ‘in, but not of, the society.’ That is why, during the Black Death, mobs roamed about murdering Jews for ‘poisoning the wells.’
The entire Jewish population of Basel was burned alive, a scene repeated throughout Western Europe. Yet this was not mainly the result of preexisting virulent hatred of Jews waiting for an excuse to erupt; it was that victims were needed to release social tension, and hatred, an instrument of that release, coalesced opportunistically on the Jews ...
‘Combatting hatred’ is combatting a symptom. Scapegoats needn’t be guilty, but they must be marginal, outcasts, heretics, taboo-breakers, or infidels of one kind or another … If they are not already marginal, they must be made so …
[D]efying left-right categorization is a promising new scapegoat class, the heretics of our time: the anti-vaxxers. As a readily identifiable subpopulation, they are ideal candidates for scapegoating. It matters little whether any of these pose a real threat to society … their guilt is irrelevant to the project of restoring order through blood sacrifice …
All that is necessary is that the dehumanized class arouse the blind indignation and rage necessary to incite a paroxysm of unifying violence. More relevant to current times, this primal mob energy can be harnessed toward fascistic political ends …
Sacrificial subjects carry an association of pollution or contagion; their removal thus cleanses society. I know people in the alternative health field who are considered so unclean that if I so much as mention their names in a Tweet or Facebook post, the post may be deleted …
The public’s ready acceptance of such blatant censorship cannot be explained solely in terms of its believing the pretext of ‘controlling misinformation.’ Unconsciously, the public recognizes and conforms to the age-old program of investing a pariah subclass with the symbology of pollution …
This program is well underway toward the Covid-unvaxxed, who are being portrayed as walking cesspools of germs who might contaminate the Sanctified Brethren (the vaccinated).
My wife perused an acupuncture Facebook page today … where someone asked, ‘What is the word that comes to mind to describe unvaccinated people?’ The responses were things like ‘filth,’ ‘assholes,’ and ‘death-eaters.’ This is precisely the dehumanization necessary to prepare a class of people for cleansing …
To prepare someone for removal as the repository of all that is evil, it helps to heap upon them every imaginable calumny. Thus we hear in mainstream publications that anti-vaxxers not only are killing people, but are raging narcissists … and tantamount to domestic terrorists.”
Dangerous Territory Ahead
If deep down in your gut you sense that we’re speeding into dangerous territory, you’re probably right. The “vaccinated” public are actively encouraged and manipulated both by media and government officials into literally despising and wishing death upon the unvaccinated, and this is indeed a very dangerous thing. It breeds mob mentality devoid of reason and logic, which can have tragic consequences.
“Why is fascism so commonly associated with genocide, when as a political philosophy it is about unity, nationalism, and the merger of corporate and state power?” Eisenstein asks.17
“It is because it needs a unifying force powerful enough to sweep aside all resistance. The us of fascism requires a them. The civic-minded moral majority participates willingly, assured that it is for the greater good. Something must be done. The doubters go along too, for their own safety.
No wonder today’s authoritarian institutions know, as if instinctively, to whip up hysteria toward the … unvaccinated. Fascism taps into, exploits, and institutionalizes a deeper instinct.
The practice of creating dehumanized classes of people and then murdering them is older than history … The campaign against the unvaccinated, garbed in the white lab coat of Science, munitioned with biased data, and waving the pennant of altruism, channels a brutal, ancient impulse.”
The Constitution still offers some measure of protection in the United States, but it may be naïve to assume it will be adhered to in the long term unless we the people demand it. In Australia, military are now roaming the streets of Sydney to make sure no one strays beyond their front door, as the country has implemented one of its strictest lockdowns yet.18
Fanning the flames of anger and hatred, Prime Minister Scott Morrison has stated that vaccinated Australians might be able to regain some of their mobility once the vaccination rate reaches 70%, and broad lockdowns may be avoidable altogether if the vaccination rate hits 80%.
"If you get vaccinated, there will be special rules that apply to you,” Morrison told reporters. “Why? Because if you're vaccinated, you present less of a public health risk.”
A rational person might question whether Morrison would actually hold true to his word. A person blinded by anger probably won’t, but will instead direct their frustration onto the holdouts that prevent the vaccination rate from reaching that magical threshold where they believe freedom will be restored.
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