#anyway sorry again i really did think you were being unkind but i am glad you clarified

[giantkillerjack]

Oh! I thought you were just being mean. My apologies!! In that case, I will explain it as best I can, actually:

So the previous response is not an invalid interpretation, but it wasn't quite what I personally meant, so to start, here's an excerpt from an article about butchness that I liked:

"What is butch? Traditionally, in lesbian culture, the word 'butch' refers to a woman whose gender expression and traits present as typically 'masculine'. Being butch is about playing with and challenging traditional binary male and female gender roles and expressions."

But it is worth noting that "a butch queer" can in fact refer to a person of any gender. - I consider myself a soft butch, and I am a genderqueer transmasculine person who calls himself a boi. To me, being a soft butch means I am masculine and not a man and that my aesthetic emphasizes my own softness rather than traditional "hard" masculine norms. And to someone else using that term for themselves, it will mean something completely different!

It is also very much worth noting that a lot of butch lesbians in queer history may actually have identified as trans men or transmasculine in the modern day now that those terms are part of our popular consciousness. That's one reason why "he/him lesbians" are nothing to scoff at!

The point is that terms like "femme and butch" and in fact almost all self-identifying terms used by queers are and always have been constantly evolving and they mean different things to different people. To quote a zine I cannot currently locate, "This is a wonderful problem to have." 💖😊

I put so much emphasis on the flexibility of the terms because I think there is sometimes this impulse in modern (usually young) queer culture to try and create unnecessary binaries. Folks often want to make our language into hard rules for categorizing others. This is a harmful impulse. The language we use to describe ourselves is SUPPOSED to be flexible! If I wanted hard binaries, I wouldn't be non-binary!

Anyway, the second piece of this post is the "proof of a loving God" thing, which was a cheeky reference to a common issue in theology that I hope I can explain well as an atheist and former Catholic.

Basically, one of the main issues in religious philosophy is the idea that, due to the immense amount of human suffering in the world, there is either no single omnipotent God, or else he is not a loving God who cares for humanity.

One of the common arguments against this thought (and thus in favor of the belief in a loving God) is that the immense amount of natural beauty in the world and the goodness within humans are actually proof that God exists and that he loves his people. Like I said, I'm an atheist, but I understand the idea of seeing a gorgeous landscape in person and feeling a sense of transcendence/holiness.

So to come back to my very autistic explanation of my own joke, the last piece here is that I find butch queers very attractive. And I especially find fat butch queers to be absolutely fucking beautiful. And I believe there are not enough people in this world vocally celebrating that, so I decided to make a post celebrating them!

So to say that fat butches are the closest thing we have to proof of a loving God, is to say that they are so incredibly beautiful that it very nearly makes me believe in a loving creator deity who has blessed us with their presence!

In conclusion, the original post is saying that not only are fat butches divinely beautiful, but also that they are more beautiful than anything else in existence!!

Like I said, it is a bit cheeky - it is a joking post made by a person who does not actually consider anything on earth to be proof of a real God, but I do genuinely feel like when I see a beautiful queer person, I have somehow been blessed to see them.

Anyway, here is a picture of a bunch of butches:

Source of photo is this NYT article, which i haven't read. Although it did remind me that some butches (especially ones from older generations) sometimes use the term "stud" as well as or instead of "butch", which I only learned recently in my life!

Fat butches are the closest thing we have to proof of a loving God

[marybethsjournal]

Flaco’s Rules (Flaco x  virgin f! reader)

Summary: You come back from a long journey without telling Flaco beforehand and he teaches you a lesson.

Word Count: 2624

Warning: smut (also the first time I’ve written smut so lmk if I should write more or not lol

Here is the story link if you prefer ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/29768013

It had been about a year since you and your brother had unofficially joined the Del Lobos. That was quite a long time to y’all, seeing as the two of you didn’t like to commit to other people, y’all had always rode alone. It wasn’t so hard to be an affiliate of the gang, however. You and Billy could go wherever you pleased and not communicate with the gang for weeks on end, as long as you brought money back to the gang and spoke to Flaco when you returned to the Grizzlies. The two of you weren’t exactly the typical Del Lobos affiliates, but you were quick and accurate with a gun and had never snitched before, so Flaco welcomed you and Billy into the gang rather kindly. 

This time, you and Billy had been gone for at least a month. You hadn’t intended on staying out that long, but a heist led you to France and it had taken forever to travel there. Upon your return, Flaco demanded to speak to you and Billy. Flaco always wanted to hear from you after your trips but when the Del Lobos told you that Flaco needed to speak to you, they passed along that he was much more tense, almost angry, than usual. Not much scared you in this cruel world, but an angry Flaco did.

You and Billy immediately set off to speak to Flaco in his cabin. It was a very short walk from the rest of the cabins, but the fear in the pit of your stomach made you walk much slower than normal. Billy seemed to have the same feeling.

“What do you think he’s going to say?” Billy asked you.

“He’s probably mad we stayed out this long? What else does he have to talk about? Surely he’s not calling us in to have tea, Billy.” you replied with a shakiness in your voice.

This apparently made your brother quite angry. His face went from fearful to enraged in half a second. 

“He doesn’t control us. He can’t tell us what to do. We will never be his workmen. We forge our own path.”

“I agree, but we accepted his offer of protection in the Grizzlies and he expects us to follow his rules, I suppose. Just try not to make a scene. I know how you are.”

“Fuck you, I’ll make a Hell of a scene. Just watch.”

“Billy, stop”

It was too late. The two of you had reached the door to Flaco’s cabin and instead of listening to you, your twin had bust through the door without warning. He always had been hellbent on destroying authority.

“Mr Hernandez, we do not have to answer to you! You think you are better than us but old man, you are far past your prime. In fact, my sister and I have racked up bigger bounties than you already. This superiority complex has to stop or else you will find a bullet between your eyes.” Billy word vomited at Flaco.

You had looked at Billy in confusion the moment he started talking. Superiority complex? Bullet between his eyes? What was this man talking about? Flaco eyes grew dark at the rude words and you cowered in fear, planning on what to do if Flaco tried to kill him.

To your surprise, Flaco began laughing. “Oh, the little boy think he can talk big to Flaco? He think he can scare me, huh? Puffing out your chest, thinking he is a man. You are pathetic. Leave before I shoot you, I will talk with the girl. She is more reasonable than you.”

Billy scoffed. “Who do you think you’re talking to, old man?” 

“Billy, go. You have disrespected him.” you said softly.

Billy huffed and puffed but he still ended up leaving.

“Now, what do you want, Flaco?” You asked. Your brother insisted on calling him Mr. Hernandez as a way of “keeping his distance”, whatever that meant, But you, well you had a sort of friendship with Flaco. You definitely had a soft spot for him. You didn’t feel anything but disdain for most men, but you liked Flaco. Maybe more than you would like to admit.

“You were gone for a long time.” he informed you, like you didn’t already know.

“I know, we didn’t mean to. We made our way to France for an art heist and we sure made you a lot of money. Would-”

“I was worried,” Flaco said softly, cutting you off. “I do not care about the money. Your cabron brother is right. You have big bounties on your head.”

You laughed lightly, not showing that you were taking his care for you to heart. 

“We can take care of ourselves. Been taking care of ourselves for well over a decade, since we were very little.” you told him, looking at your shoes. You didn’t like to open up to people

“You will have to tell me about that someday. When you are ready. Anyway, don’t care much for the jackass. But you, I care for you. How did your trip go?”

“Fine, made out with a lot of money. Billy’s cockiness got us a bounty over there. That’s a first for us, being wanted in multiple countries.” “Sounds like him.” Flaco chuckled warmly.

“It was good besides that. Ate a lot of the native foods and saw beautiful buildings. I liked it there.”

“Did you find a French lover? That is what they’re known for, eh? Love?”

You laughed at him. “I think that is just a stereotype. I was too busy anyhow.”

“Too busy for love? You have a lot to learn, but you are young and Flaco is old, so it makes sense you are not as wise. Surely you had boys following you around, though? You are very beautiful.”

“I guess so.” you responded awkwardly. Truthfully, several men had followed you around during your time there, yelling things at you that you were glad you couldn’t understand. You assumed they were lewd. It all made you so uncomfortable.

Flaco sensed something was wrong and, not knowing how to comfort you, changed the subject, although not one you particularly wanted to talk about either.

“You did disobey your part of the deal, though. You understand that, yes?”

“The deal?” You asked. You had no idea what he was talking about.

“The deal we made when you joined Del Lobos. When we gave you our protection.”

Oh, that. You didn’t remember there being any specified deal, much less that you couldn’t leave for an extended amount of time, but Flaco looked angry so you decided not to question him further.

“Oh yes, I do. I’m sorry we broke the rules, Flaco.”

“Do not call me that right now. We are not friends. I am your boss. You address me as such. This is a serious thing you have gone and done.”

“I’m sorry, sir?” the term felt foreign on your tongue. You didn’t answer to anybody like this.

“Yes yes. Good. You two need to learn. Your brother, I’m afraid, I can not reprimand because he will make me angry and I will kill him. Poof, no more Billy. But you, I think I can handle you.”

Handle you? What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m not sure I understand. I really am sorry.”

“Sorry is not good enough. I have leniency because you are young and stupid. Any of my men who would do what you did? I shoot them. But you are grown, yes? Old enough to know better?”

You and your brother didn’t explicitly tell people your age for security reasons, so it was a valid question on his part, although you felt you definitely looked old enough for that generally to not be a question. But you were pretty young and you looked it. 

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t be so friendly with you if I was just a kid. That wouldn’t be exactly safe.” You tried to laugh but Flaco’s eyes were narrow and so unkind in that moment that you decided against it.

“Good, then you won’t have a problem taking your punishment.” He smiled wickedly.

“What punishment,?” you asked. Flaco furrowed his eyebrows. “sir?” you added.

He smiled once again, but didn’t let his stern exterior go. He sat down on his cot.

“Lay here.” he patted his lap.

“Oh I don’t think so” you backed yourself into his door. Flaco stayed where he was and looked at you patiently. He wasn’t stopping you from leaving. This was entirely up to you. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments. You could feel the immense tension between you and Flaco. Finally, you walked over and bent over his knee.

“Fine. I guess this makes sense. I did break the rules.” You were mostly reasoning with yourself, not Flaco.

“No, chica. Pull up your dress. You can leave your drawers on.” The request probably should have offended you, but you felt heat in your core at the thought. You tried not to show this on your face, however, and pulled your dress up before laying back down on Flaco’s lap.

“Such a good listener, you are. Wish you would have listened to my rules the first time.” his hand rubbed your ass through your bloomers before striking it abruptly. You yelped in surprise. What was more surprising was that it felt good. You’d never been spanked before, this was all new to you.

“Flaco-” you started.

“Shhh” he brought his hand down again, hard. If he kept spanking you this hard, your ass would be stinging for days.

Yet he didn’t relent. He spanked you seven or eight times, each one harder than the one before. Despite your best efforts, you involuntarily started to let out strangled moans. You cursed yourself after each one. You were in trouble with Flaco, not having sex with him. 

Flaco finally stopped and you assumed he was done. However, when you got up, Flaco pulled you back down by your hair. Ugh, why did that feel good too?

“You are not learning your lesson.” Flaco hissed, obviously frustrated, but at the same time it didn’t quite feel like he was frustrated with you.

“No I promise, Flaco.” he smacked your ass once more. “Sorry, sir.”

“I need you to pull your bloomers down.” he told you sternly.

“What? No.” You may be an outlaw, but you were still a lady.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna make you but-” you nodded at him, signifying that you were okay with it. You never thought you’d be doing this but for some reason, you trusted Flaco. Besides, you secretly wanted him to keep going.

Flaco was visibly confused as to why you had nodded but had made no move to pull down your bloomers. After a few moments, he took the hint and pulled them down himself. You immediately clenched your thighs together, praying that he couldn’t see how wet you were. That however, was a massive failure.

“I think you need to explain something, mi novia.” he said, in the meantime giving you two hard slaps on the ass.

“I don’t know what that means, sorry sir.”

“It means my girl.” he told you in a soft, husky voice.

You shivered at the words. You wanted to be his girl. You wanted it badly. And he seemed to be on the same page as you. He hadn’t done this because you did something wrong and he felt it strongly needed to be corrected. No, he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

“I- well I liked it when you spanked me. I didn’t know I would, I’ve never been spanked before.”

“You’re inexperienced, huh?” Flaco asked, moving his hands from your ass to feel the wetness between your folds.

“Flaco!” you gasped.

“And expressive. I like that.”

“I’m just, oh! I haven’t done any of this before.”

Flaco pulled his hand back abruptly. He was silent and you, sure that you had done something wrong, sat up and looked up at him.

“You aren’t a virgin, are you?” he asked in disbelief.

“Ummm, yeah I am. I’m sorry, I suppose.” you got up from his lap and picked your bloomers off the floor, absolutely mortified.

“Wait, mi angel.” Flaco grabbed your arm. “It’s not a bad thing, not at all. I was surprised, is all. You’re a rough and tumble girl.” he laughed, but it was clear there was meaning behind his words. “Come back here, let ol’ Flaco make you feel good.”

You smiled and laid over him again, this time both of your intentions being clear. 

“How about you sit on my lap while I help you? So I can see your face? That should be sufficient payment for the pleasure I will give you, yes.”

You would have jumped over the moon if Flaco had asked you to at that moment, so of course you did what he said and sat in his lap with your legs spread.

You never thought you’d be here, Flaco fucking you with his fingers in his cold cabin (although you felt anything but cold at the moment). You had dreamed of it, sure, but this was real life. You had never considered that Flaco had been attracted to you, but now as you felt his dick strain against his pants, there was no denying it. 

Flaco fingered you at different paces depending on what he felt you needed based on your expressions. The higher and more frequent your moans came, the faster he went. When he felt it was becoming too much for you, he slowed down a bit, never losing his rhythm. He didn’t want to overstimulate you, at least this time. Flaco was good at this, surely very experienced, but you tried not to think about that. You focused on the feeling in the pit of your stomach and Flaco’s eyes, which were looking directly into yours. It was a bit intense, but it only added to the experience for you. He seemed to love it, biting down on his lip when you moaned particularly loud. At this point, his fingers were completely slick and you were fucking yourself back and forth on his fingers. The heat in your core was getting more intense and you were becoming desperate. You begged over and over for him to fuck you but he refused.

“No, angel, that is too fast. I have to come up with a way for it to be special.” More special than this? You wanted to protest but he kept fingering you the whole time, bringing you closer to your orgasm the whole time, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to argue back. Besides, a promise to get with Flaco again another time wasn’t so bad.

It didn’t take much longer for you to come undone. Between feeling Flaco’s dick strain against you through his pants and the swift rhythm of his fingers, it wasn’t longer before you threw your head back, moaning his name, and came onto his fingers. He smirked at the scene and kissed you quickly before removing his fingers. 

“You were so good mi novia,” Flaco praised you, before adding, “Now put your clothes back on before you catch a cold. You need to stay warm.”

“We can- we’re gonna do this, again, right?” you asked Flaco after you put your skirt and underwear back on and started to walk out the door into the cold.

“Like I could go through this life without having you again. Silly girl.” Flaco told you before picking up a piece of wood off his table and starting to whittle as if nothing had happened.

[inanotheruniversemusings]

got your green eyes in the back of my mind (it’s true)

fill for Supercorptober2020 prompt: baking

read on ao3

“Hi, what can I get you today?”

Lena starts a little. She’s gotten used to the cheery voice, having frequented the coffee shop for quite some time now—it’s her favorite, really; not that anyone’s asked aside from her best friend, Sam—has known its owner even longer, being that they’ve shared half of the same classes the last two semesters.

This, though, is a tad bit new. This being the name tag pinned over the shirt pocket of the cashier’s chest. It usually says Hello, I’m Kara, but now it has the I’m blotted out by black marker ink so that the Hello is perfectly—correctly—followed by prettiest girl I’ve seen today.

(How she managed to fit all those words within the tiny space and in such a neat scribble, Lena has no idea.)

“Uhm,” Lena tries to say; wants to tell the equally beautiful blonde girl who smiles like the sun that she wants her usual. But Lena just can’t stop wondering, and she just has to ask. So she does. “Did you forget the, umh,” she tries a second time, yet she ends up merely pointing at the name tag instead.

“Oh,” Kara mumbles. A well-timed dip of her head hides the sudden flush that blooms on her cheeks. Though there’s really nothing she can do about the redness that crawls down to her neck but fiddle with her glasses. “It’s—there was a dare. There may have been a dare involved.”

Lena nods, her brows arching in barely-contained amusement. “I see.”

Kara flushes even more that she starts swallowing quite visibly, and in a fast, admittedly slightly worrying phase. “Anyway,” she attempts to press on, waving her hands in an added gesture. But she’s still stiff and so flustered that she ends up looking like she’s slicing at the air.

Lena laughs, more to herself—and the adorable state she’s seemed to have left Kara in—than anything; decides to save the other woman from further embarrassment by speaking. “Can I get my usual?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Kara answers. Her voice is unnaturally high, not that Lena knows the sound of it or anything, even as she tries to squeeze in one of her quips. “Or, well, I guess Nia’s, since she’s our barista.”

“Yep, that’s me,” the woman in question chimes in from somewhere behind Kara. She even brings a hand to where her very own name tag is pinned on her apron as she starts to approach the counter to stand beside the other woman; places it palm-up right beneath the scrawl that reads Nia in all caps.

Kara, in turn, just lets out an exasperated sigh and closes her eyes, tight enough that Lena can hazard two guesses on what she’s thinking: she’s wishing for Nia to disappear, or for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

She twists a little to meet Nia, despite also having known her three days after her first ever visit to the cafe, smiles at her teasingly. “Enchanté?”

“Oooh,” Nia hums, eyes sparkling with amusement and looking impressed as she turns to whisper to Kara. Or at least she thinks she does. “Your lady doth speaketh French. Taste, muy bien.”

“That’s not even Fr—I—” Kara fumbles for words, but ends up just pushing Nia out of Lena’s view when she fails to come up with something else and before Nia can wreak further havoc, especially on Kara’s already dwindling spirits.

Lena watches her walk away, the sound of her cackle filling in the air until Kara speaks again. “Sorry about that.” She pushes her glasses back up, shaking the last ten minutes away with a more steady smile this time. “I—your usual right? That’d be two dollars and fifty cents.”

Lena hands Kara a ten matched with one of her charmed smiles. The rest of its change goes to the shop’s tip jar like it always does, and the effects of the same smile colors the tips of Kara’s ears, charming Lena right back.

(There’s a reason why Lena has always been Nia’s favorite customer. A ton, really, though Kara will always have more.)

“Thank you!” Kara tells her—more like squeaks, really. Lena doesn’t stand a chance of not being endeared. “I’ll be right by your table to bring your Au Lait once it’s ready. Same spot?”

“Of course. You know where to find me.”

Kara beams at her then, wide and bright, as if the remnants of her earlier nervousness she has completely shaken away.

And it’s like a shock to her system that Lena only ever gets from coffee, as warm as the first sip she takes after she’s let it cool a little, with a sprinkle of sugar and something else incredibly nice that Lena doesn’t quite have a name yet.

…

Seven minutes and fifteen pounding lub dubs later—when she catches Kara’s eyes just as she’s handing the change to another customer, and Kara sends her another one of her smiles that Lena’s honestly starting to think she’s more hooked into than coffee itself—her Au Lait arrives.

Nia’s drawn a gear over the foam, which Lena incredibly appreciates and kind of also hates because of how steady Nia’s hands must have been, and she may be a tad bit jealous of that.

“It was just half yesterday,” Lena says by way of greeting, though she’s unable to keep the awe from her tone.

Kara laughs softly, and then lifts the mug up the tray to set it in front of Lena. “Nia’s been practicing. I think she’s trying to find a better gig than this.”

I am not, floats from behind the counter, a feigned affronted sound that Nia easily follows with, “But if Lena wants her own personal barista, I am very much open to discussion.”

“And if I do,” Lena replies, equally teasing. “You’ll be my first call.”

“Hear that, K?” Nia yells towards Kara this time. “So if I were you I’d chop-chop.”

“Ignore her,” Kara says; even makes a show of doing so.

“Like, today, Miss Danvers.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kara mouths. 

A part of Lena does feel sorry for her, for the helpless look that’s starting to take over her face. But a bigger part of Lena is admittedly enjoying such banter; feels like Kara is more at ease here than when she’s at university, and Lena loves that for reasons she’s still resisting to name.

(But it’s there, was at the back of her throat the week before, but then Kara’s asked her what she knew about quantum entanglement during their shared walk to Quantum Mechanics class and it slid further up and then out; now dangles at the tip of her tongue, so ready to be let loose.)

She’s saved from saying anything that she can classify as stupid by Kara clearing her throat. Kara’s smile is back, albeit it’s a little shaky. Though the tremble her hand makes, as it sets the slice of cake right next to where Lena’s coffee mug is, is much more noticeable. 

But Lena chooses not to comment on it, much to Kara’s relief. She pulls her hand back, wiping them both on her apron more as a nervous habit than a conscious move.

“I don’t remember ordering cake,” Lena says, but it’s not unkind.

Kara nips at her bottom lip, then frees it before answering. “It’s on the house.”

“Oh.” Lena isn’t—definitely isn’t—mesmerized by that sight. “Well, thank you.”

“It’s—I’ve been working on my baking. Alex says I may have the knack for it. She’s my sister by the way. She—she owns this place. She and her girlfriend. You may have met them once, when Nia and I had to miss work for some symposium thing at school. Not—not that I’m saying you’re here every day. Or that that’s a bad thing. In fact it’s a good—I’m very glad. Just super glad. That you are. Here, I mean.” 

Lena’s able to pick a ton of things from that. But she doesn’t really think she has the emotional capability to unpack most of it right now, not when Kara’s standing right in front of her, fiddling with the hem of her apron nervously as she tries—and fails—not to stare at Lena, and Lena feels a weakness in her knees that only Kara has ever made her feel. So she chooses on the closest—lightest part to focus on. “Baking, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “It’s my first cake of the day.”

Lena playfully narrows her eyes. “So I’m your guinea pig?”

“What?” Kara panics—well, almost does, if not for the laugh Lena cushions her teasing comment with. “It’s—no! I tried it first.”

(Just in case she somehow has mistaken salt for sugar again. But of course she doesn’t tell Lena that.)

“I’m just kidding, Kara,” Lena appeases. She shifts her gaze towards the slice of sweet pastry, noting the minced pieces of carrots spread cleanly all over the two layers. Lena knows it’s a total coincidence, but no one really has to know that she’d like to think it’s more, that Kara has picked her favorite out of all the possible choices.

Like quantum entanglement, her mind echoes.

“I’m sure it’s delicious. It certainly looks like it.”

“I really hope so,” Kara answers, nipping at her bottom lip again. “Or I’d be really, really embarrassed.”

“You’d never have to be.”

Silence fills the space again. But Lena feels something stretch over between them, feels it stronger when Kara twists as if to return to her spot by the cashier and says, “Well, I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your day.”

It stretches further as Kara starts walking away, and then snaps taut when Kara gains one more step. It snaps Lena back into attention in turn, her mouth moving before her brain can even catch up to her. “Kara!”

Kara wheels around, tilting her head to look at Lena expectantly. “Yes?”

“Do you give baking lessons?” Lena then asks—and, okay, maybe her brain hasn’t really fully caught up yet.

“Sorry?”

“Do you—can you teach me how to bake?” Yes, definitely hasn’t caught up to her thought process yet. Her mouth and her brain really needs to cooperate. “It’s just, my brother’s birthday is coming up, and I was thinking I’ll make him his own cake instead of buying one.”

Maybe even put Happy Birthday, Baldie as the message, and, okay, maybe it isn’t too bad of an idea after all.

“I—” Kara begins to say, looking like she’s at a loss too. Lena can’t really blame her either. Yet, Kara agrees in the end, and Lena definitely doesn’t know how to deal with that. “Sure.”

In the heat of the moment—Lena will later on say, will refuse to call it anything but that—she grabs the book she’s set on the table, flipping to one of the blank pages at the very back. And then, she looks up at Kara, tipping her chin up to gesture towards the pen tucked inside one of the pockets of Kara’s apron. “Can I borrow your pen?”

Kara hands it wordlessly, and it’s only the slight crinkle in between her brows who speaks for her own confusion.

Lena will also later on say that there is a part of her that feels pained as she tears off half of the blank page. But for now, she does it without a single hint of remorse, and then scribbles out ten digits that may or may not set the next years of her life.

“Call me? And then we can talk about it.”

…

(Much, much later on, Lena will definitely say she’s never been more thankful for a slice of cake and a half-sized piece of paper.

It’s not in her vows, but she does tell Kara at some point, under a sea of stars, and amidst the sound of calm waves hitting the shore and her very own breathing finally coming down from a soaring height.)

…

“Figures. Your lady likes veggies in her pastries. That’s just so wrong.”

“Your favorite pie is literally pumpkin.”

“It’s an ancient recipe and has been proven to actually taste good. Carrot, though? It’s like, just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Nia.”

“Yeah, yeah, it got you the girl anyway.”

[misinformedgenic]

The last post on this god awful blog

Hello, I ask everyone who see’s this to unfollow this blog, if you are following me. I can’t look at the reblogs and posts I posted anymore, without feeling incredibly embarassed and I know that I am being aggressive to the people who gave me notes but you know what I don’t care.

(Overall trigger warning: trauma,syscourse,swearing and apologies.)

My message for those who are anti-endogenic:

(tw: abelism,mental ilness)

The truth is, whether all systems are formed by trauma or some can be born that way or it can be formed by something else, it really doesn’t matter. All endogenic systems are just trying to exist and communicate their experiences, and instead of listening and supporting those who might experience their plurality differently from you, you just villanize them and insult them and do the exact same thing that neurotypicals have been doing to us for YEARS. Calling us fake, saying we are trying to get attention, saying we should be ashamed of ourselves for “appropriaiting” from people who had a more severe form of an illness or was priveliged enough to get a diagnosis . If you are traumagenic and you haven’t had that kind of experience, I genuinely envy you. That shit was done to me and it really hurt me. People called me attention seeking for saying I was depressed,or had social anxiety or that I was transgender, or that I was traumatised or plural when all I was trying to do was be myself openly and to accept myself. Why is it that when someone who experiences some sort of plurality and they don’t feel comfortable assosciating their system with trauma, you jump straight to accusing them of something as awful as FAKING or BEING A THIEF!

And yes I know being endogenic means it’s not an illness, but being called a fake for expressing who you truly are when you’ve been forced to hide who you are is such a awful experience. How could you be so callous and careless to even risk that happening to someone else, even once more, in this cruel world. Even if every single endogenic system, who says I can’t help being a plural, was trauma genic, they still associate themselves with that word, endogenic. When you say something horrible about endogenic systems, you are doing so much damage to those people. I mean, to assume without a shadow of a doubt that every single “veritable” endogenic system is actually traumagenic with the limited amount of understanding of DID/OSDD IN ITSELF, as opposed to how this phenomenon could work outside of a disordered framework, really shows you have your head far up your ass. But even then, it doesn’t matter because whether they ended up being traumagenic or not, according to science, no one deserves that treatment.

Even then,in regards to the post on this blog that got the most notes, we need to understand that people with plurality are forced to label their pluraility as a symptom of a disorder. Many systems who needed psychiatry and systems who didn’t and just masked themselves mingled, and they shared terms. This is still happening today, more then ever.

(Just in case you want to know, fictive is not a term used in psychology or psychiatry. It literally came from the soul bonding community, and people who are anti endogenic are still using it. If you don’t believe me use a web browser, and provide some sources to prove otherwise. I didn’t know this, and I’m not going to tag the OP who told me this,because I’m not sure whether they want to be tagged, but thank you. I felt pretty humiliated but it helped to come to realize what I was doing was wrong and that my opinions were wrong, and it helped me to become a kinder and more understanding individual.)

And we need to understand that systems shouldn’t be forced to be involved in exploring their plurality through a lense of trauma, because for many it doesn’t make sense because thats not how they experience it. Even if it is repressed memories ,sometimes or always, systems need a space to be systems without talking about trauma or applying trauma to it. DID and OSDD spaces are not providing that and in those spaces trauma is going to be talked about. Systems shouldn’t have to force themselves to think about trauma and go through pain, just to be able to call themselves a plural and have people acknowledge and accept them.

My message for any endogenic systems and their supporters:

I apologize for everything that you had to go through, from me and my behaviour. My behaviour was terrible and none of you deserved it at all. You deserve so much more than what you get from the anti-endogenic crowd, and you are absolutely valid, and I hope that in the future things will be easier all of you. You deserve love, acceptance and support, and I hope that nobody will ever be able to take that reality from you. You are doing nothing wrong by just being a plural, and it’s really sad that people were and still are fighting about this. Fuck anyone who says otherwise. 

Conclusion:

(tw: s***** abuse,ableism,self hatred)

I know I was guilty of what I criticized, and that is really embarassing, but I’m glad I realize that now. I admit I was angry because I was jealous and bitter and I didn’t understand the history properly around this community or how it formed. I went through a lot of online g******g and s***al abuse and my experience with being a system was horrible, I had to deal with alters who had horrible del****ns and wanted to incite gruesome s*** h*** and wanted to k*** me. My system has introjects of my a****rs and random men I see on the streets making pe****ted comments at me pretty much all the time, and I was really jealous of systems who could experience the joys of being a system while avoiding the horrible parts. It made me feel worthless and inferior, because all the interesting and fun parts of being a system could be paraded on TikTok or whether and displayed by people who weren’t f***ed *p and dis*****ng like I was. I am not saying that’s the only basis as to why anti-endogenics hold their opinions, but I am saying this because if you ever see those anti-endogenic posts of mine somewhere and I am very passive agressive or vicious, that’s where it comes from and it isn’t objective or fair.

end of abuse trigger warning.

I decided that I am going to delete all the mean comments I made on other people’s posts that didn’t get any response, so that not another person has to see it again, and for which did get a response I am going to apologize to all those I harmed. If you want to respond to my argument, I can’t stop you from reblogging and making a comment, and that’s your freedom on this website, but I am not going to be replying because discourse on here is so nasty and I’m just done with that. I would rather help contribute to a community of people who feel isolated and who will be empowered by building a culture around plurality, whether that be around trauma or not. I’m tired of focusing on my trauma, it’s in the past and I don’t give a shit about it. It just sucks and I hate it and I am done with it. I will need therapy for it of course,yadi ya, but in terms of my limited free time on this earth I would rather contribute to making people feel happy and supported then argue and be angry about something that is kind of pointless anyway.

So bye, I would like to make a normal system blog in the future and we’ll be using the same names but for now I need to shut the fuck up and reflect. 

- Luca

Also hey, on a additional note, my name is Milo and I allowed my name to be associated with this blog and it was irresponsible and unkind for me to do promote this kind of thinking. I am really sorry for any harm I caused by being a part of this blog. Additionally Stanley understands that his post on pride flags was inaccurate and he made some very nasty comments/did some nasty stuff to, he is very sorry to all those he harmed with his previous posts. He is in a really bad situation at the moment, which has gotten worse over time, he is a trauma holder and he is in a lot of emotional turmoil,so neither me or Luca wanted him to be involved in writing this specific post, but that doesn’t mean what he did was okay and all three of us recognize this now.

Best regards,

Milo.

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [5]

@badthingshappenbingo​ [Original content and characters for - Collared and Chained category]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (You and I, Me and you: Chapter 6)

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>]

Bound by choice.

A metal door was opened, its hinges creaked. Not the same door, this was a different room. She drew in a breath, and it smelled different too, damper. Though she could not see, the warm trapped air perpetuated a sense of claustrophobia. This felt like a smaller room. Subconsciously, she instantly wanted out. Instinct won and she turned away from it, towards him.

He’d been firm in the way he manoeuvred her, but not unkind. Not so far. He shoved her backwards with a certain violence. His push, coupled with the inability to see, had her tripping. He almost reached out to catch her, but did not. He was glad that she did not see.

She fell, ass-first. Her tied hands broke the fall. There were pieces of glass beneath her. It was fine enough to not cut through fabric. But it did scratch her arms and palms. “Careful… The previous inhabitant was prone to breaking things,” he said wryly. Her hands were streaked crimson, a cursory glance let him know that the cuts were not too deep. Regardless, he had to fight the urge to tend to them. He noticed a piece missing from the floor.

She sighed and wriggled onto her knees and then crouched to stand. She clenched her fists, squeezing a drop of blood into the crease, the piece of glass remained wedged between her palms. Her arms were still bound, but maybe with this…

He closed in on her, his proximity was enough for her to back up. More glass crunched under her as she ventured in backwards. He crowded her; into the spot he wanted her in. Her back was against the wall. The surface was damp, she could feel the moisture. The back of her hand skimmed it with an exploratory interest... and found a chain. A thick iron collar hung from the chain. Though she did not get a chance to feel that. She was unceremoniously turned to face the wall as Jared lifted the medieval device, wedged it open and slipped it over her slender neck. The smell of rust permeated her lungs. Her mind drifted to a very different clink of a very different collar… That birthday night after the celebrations and the offer.

~~~

He’d changed course and led her back to his room instead of her own. She eagerly waited for the blindfold to come off. It did not. He led her to the carpet in front of his couch. The textile was slightly abrasive. She felt his hands press on her shoulders gently, coaxing her to kneel, facing the seat. She allowed it and sat back on her heels. “Don’t move.” The commanding nature of his voice was truly rare and so precious. “Mhmm.” “This is what you wanted right? For me to… take the lead?” She could hear him rummaging for things. She wasn’t sure exactly how to respond. He didn’t sound light-hearted as she’d expected. Which made her pout, at the void since he wasn’t looking at her. I can do intense! “Something like this… yes. Can I see you?” “No.” “Well, I can make requests right?” Her question was a little tentative this time, she was trying to establish rules for her for him to make her follow. “No, not really.” There was some dry humour in his voice, which was pleasing. Apparently, he did not really need the help. Not that that realization stopped her. Her breathing grew slightly shallow with anticipation. She could not believe this was happening. “Do you want me to like… call you sir or something?” Jared paused. It rarely took him long to find things, he was very organised. But she was distracting and delaying this makeshift arrangement. “Do you want to?” “I thought I didn’t get to make requests…” She teased, he huffed. “Touché. You’re right. Go ahead. Call me sir, let’s see how long that lasts.”

Shira had a painful disregard for hierarchy. He did not mind and luckily most in SpecSyn usually didn’t either. But that was not going to sit well if she went through with her stint at the Quantum Brigade. The reminder left him rejuvenated. He had to get her to see reason somehow.

“Will you punish me if I don’t?” Her sing-song voice lingered in the room. She was so blissfully unaware of the whirring gears in Jared’s mind. She taunted with abandon, still riding the high of the celebrations and the offer. He looked at her in time to see the smirk split her lips again and shook his head. He was glad that she couldn’t see him. Then, she would have recognized his ulterior motive. He could see that on some level, this was manipulative and exploitative… But it really was for her own good. “At this point, I’ll punish you if you keep talking. Do you want me to gag you?”

She wasn’t fond of blindfolds, but she hated gags with a passion. “See you tell me not to talk, but then you ask me a question, so what is it you want, sir?” He thought had a good idea of how arrangements liked these worked, in theory anyway. He had never envisioned taking on this role in such a capacity. He reiterated the rules she had wangled out of him. “You call me sir, stop asking me questions, stop making requests and I won’t gag you. OK? Ok.” He answered his own question and didn’t give her a chance to interject this time.

Upon finding the things he was looking for, Jared collected everything he wanted. Drawers were closed, cupboards were shut and she could hear his footfall grow closer again. He sat on the couch facing her. She was close enough to be within his reach. He tousled her hair. “You did a good job of staying still.” “Am I going to be rewa-” His fingers walking up her collarbones and to her neck made her fall silent. He fumbled with something thin and metallic till it clinked shut around her elegant neck. She recognized it. “I-is that what I think it is?” He hummed and did not reply. Jared reached over her, like enveloping her in an embrace, she leaned against him, offering more access. A pair of matching cuffs cinched her wrists together. Her breathing quickened. Both the cuffs and the collar were capable of shocking her. He wasn’t messing around. “Don’t worry. I won’t use it…” He promised, and she believed him. Grudgingly he reached for the prod-baton. He placed it against the crook of her neck. She sat up straighter. These tools at his disposal were a lot more domineering than she had expected.

“Sticks and stones, huh?” She asked softly. The baton glided over parts of her, as though wielded by someone absent—which Jared was most certainly not. He pressed it against her acnestis, somewhere just above the small of her back. “Bow.” She resisted. “Pfft. What, like you are god or something, sir?” “Shira…” he warned, tiredly. “What? I didn’t say I’ll make it easy!” He struck the side of her arm, not too hard, but it was likely to bruise a little. She almost lost balance but caught herself in time. He could see her face contort in a wince and was amazed that despite it being sudden, she didn’t make any sound. She exhaled slowly, like she was taking the time to make friends with the pain. “Ow.” She spoke, that was not a reaction. There was defiance dripping from the syllable.

“We try again?” He sighed and pressed down again, she still resisted. He struck the other arm, with the same measured force. She hissed and her exhale this time was a soft whistle. Then she laughed and explained her decision to remain disobedient. “Sorry, I’m a sucker for symmetry and I know you are too.” He rolled his eyes. It felt cruel to make this more serious than it had to be, but he had a goal. When he pressed against her again, she let her spine curl forward and flattened her chest against her thighs.

“Shira… Do you know what happens when the enemy truly finds you?” She drew a ragged breath; her forehead was against the floor. So we’re roleplaying. “You can’t help but make this a lesson can you?” She didn’t sound disappointed, she was merely stating facts. “I suppose we can no longer afford to stop training you, can we?” He wasn’t convinced by his own words, but he could see her literally swell with pride. She was lapping up any indication that reminded her of her impending relevancy. Slightly frustrated, he got up to grab a cigarette When she heard the lighter click and the air carried the dregs of the smoke, she sat up and stiffened. He thought she was triggered, which left him feeling hollow and haunted.

Then, she did something odd. She tilted her head, exposing the unscarred side of her neck. “Symmetry?” She asked, in a way that made it impossible to know if she was joking or not. Jared wished she was. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She was… so unpredictable. “Or maybe, we can leave that for later. It can be a sample for the next training batch. The shock value should work well on the new rookies, I promise, I act well!” She twittered, relishing the idea of playing assistant in that capacity. He took a long drag. She still doesn’t even take the training seriously. “If we get any…” he replied with a certain sadness, it was getting harder to recruit candidates. “We will!” she exclaimed with her unusual optimism. Nothing could bring her down today. “I don’t remember saying that you could sit up, Shira.” She felt like testing his boundaries, to push a little, but the last time she’d done that, he went to war with some demon of his past in his nightmares. Demons he would not talk to her about. She did not want to be shut out. If he was willing to explore this side with her, she decided that she’d have to be a little gentle too. She folded against herself again. Arms behind her, head buried between slightly parted knees and her forehead inches away from the floor.

He sat down again and methodically tapped the baton against the floor. There was silence, except the baton’s tap. He contemplated a more straight-forward approach. “Shira… Do you lov-like me, or this?” “Do I have permission to speak, sir?” “Yes!” He rolled his eyes at the theatrics; it reminded him of someone who would have loved it, a ghost. “I love you because you’re you. You’ve… done whatever it took in the face of terrible odds… Sir.” The way she emphasized love did leave him feeling warm. It was an alien feeling. “Do you love me more like this though? Does it change anything between us?” She didn’t respond immediately. She could not deny that she liked the concept of being able to surrender to someone like him. Someone who could drive her to be the best she could be. That she could crave the discipline he could offer… Was that wrong?

“Shira?” “I… I can’t deny I envy you for your drive, I wish you could… share that somehow. Sir” He narrowed his eyes; it was easy to extrapolate her expectations. It did not leave him any real agency. “So, this would be entirely for you. My wishes don’t really matter.” She could hear the bite in his voice. Instead of allaying her, it only sparked an acerbic retaliation. “If you’d ever make your wishes known, maybe they would!” Though it hurt, he did not feel any anger towards her. She was right. He had rarely been afforded chances where his wishes mattered. The choices he made were rarely his. They were a product of an unfortunate situation.

“Fine. I wish for you to not take their offer.” He folded his hands. That was unexpected. She should’ve seen it coming but she’d been woefully ignorant all this time. That added to her rankled state. “What? You know I can’t do-” She started to get back up. He put his foot on her. She wanted assertion, he felt very inclined to give it to her. “Just to be clear, my wishes don’t matter then?” She wriggled under him. “They do! But why the fuck would you want me to give up my shot at glory? Do you want to be the only hero or something?” The nerve. She was so juvenile sometimes. “You think that’s what this is about?”

He reached for the controls that allowed her to use the implements and dialled them up. High enough to hurt, low enough to avoid permanent damage. A cry rose in her throat and muscles strained from the shock, killing the sound. Her arms and spine straightened with a tense contractility as the buzz of electricity surged within her, ever so briefly. This was not out of anger. This was to make a point. The electricity left and it left her limp. He held her by her hair. Jared was glad he could not see her eyes. He could wager the world that they looked right about murderous right now.

“You promi-” He pinched her face in a grip that interrupted her. “Remember, I asked what would happen if you got caught, Shira? This. They won’t play by the rules.” She struggled against him, mostly so she could get her words out. “I’ll just…” “What… swallow some carefully hidden serum? You think they’re not smart enough to look for it.” His fingers probed her mouth, to drive the point home. “Everywhere,” he emphasized. The thought of other fingers in other places darkened his own thoughts.

He shoved her away. She fell to her side, with a thud and tried to sit upright again. Crouching over her curled form, he kept her down with his arm pressed against her bruising side. “You won’t be kneeling for me, Shira, or someone you know and like, it won’t be like training.” He spoke through grit teeth. How could she not see what lay ahead? How could she just allow them to throw her into the deep end like this? Something about her mannerism softened, she stopped fighting and just lay there as he painted a grim picture, with the ink of fear. She could hear the concern now and felt petulant for thinking his intent was rooted in holding her back. His jarring reminder did serve its purpose. She realised how real things could get and bile rose in her throat. Her heart fluttered at all the hypotheticals that streaked through her mind, it left her nauseous.

“It won’t be fun and games.” He reiterated. He could see the effect of his words as her skin paled. He eased up. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist and with surprising strength, toppled him to lay beside her on the carpet. He did not counter her move as they tangled into one another. He sighed and cradled her head with his arm. His frustration could not carry him through this. “No… I know it won’t be…” Akira steeled herself and replied. She threw herself against him, still cuffed and still blindfolded. She hoped her body could radiate the reassurance she wanted to couple with her words. “So, I’m going to need all the help I can get. I promise to take the intensive training seriously and we’ll just have to hope that it won’t come to any of that...”

He hid his face in the crook of his elbow. There was no winning against her. Not without squandering her very sense of being. Not without telling her that those outcomes are often the certainties and success is the outlier event. “If they have come to me, my Red Knight… Clearly they’re running out of options.” As appealing to his sense of duty almost always worked. Today, it still left him uneasy. He could see he had lost though. She was not going to budge. The only course of action was for her to work hard.

“You’re going to be wishing you didn’t take the offer when the intensive training actually begins, Shira.” There was a promise there, but it was not a threat. He’d just have to see how far her sheer will could carry her. He flicked her nose playfully and undid the blindfold. “Congratulations, I guess. And Happy twenty-first...” Acceptance was still hard. “Yay? Sir?” She grinned. “You’re one baffling vixen, I’ll give you that.” In a fell swoop, he picked her off the floor and took her to his bed. The cuffs and collar were still in place. “Is training starting now?” she grinned. “You bet,” he replied, only half-joking. The thunderous storm that brewed between them, only left a drizzle.

~~~

This collar felt heavy against her shoulders. She instinctively pulled against it to check its give and the length of the chain. He nudged the back of her knees with his own to make her legs buckle. Falling onto her knees hurt, she groaned through grit teeth. At least there was no glass under her here, thankfully. Resigned, she sat down on her ankles.

She heard something being twisted next to her, like a faucet. The chain attached to the collar began rolling backwards into the wall. It first pulled Akira upwards, forcing her back onto her knees. The chain continued to reel till her face was flush against the wall. Satisfied, he left and closed the door behind him. She was alone with her thoughts. Solitude beckoned tears and for the first time she was glad for the blindfold. She let out a soft growl of frustration and began chafing at the twine holding her wrists with the piece of glass she had retrieved from the floor. It was hard, given the angle of her body. But she needed something to do, to feel like she was trying. [Category: 2/3] [Tags: @simplygrimly, @cashieeetime​]

[the-darklings]

earth is warmer when you laugh [2];

pairing: connor x reader

chapter summary: “Aim for the moon, even if you miss you’ll land amongst the stars.”

word count: 3.8 k+

a/n: You guys are honestly the most amazing people ever. Thank you so much for all your supportive messages/likes/reblogs (the first part broke 700 notes I *cry*). I was scared stiff to post this because I wasn’t sure if my writing was any good, especially after not writing for so long but I’m so glad that you all enjoyed it. And due to popular demand, this will now be a full length story. I’m cross-uploading it on Ao3 as well if some of you find it easier to read it on there. Hope you enjoy part 2!

FIRST  | AO3 | THIRD

———

“Lieutenant’s desk is this way.”

Immensely grateful for the guidance, you quickly followed Connor as he led you deeper into the office space. Unfortunately, you were not oblivious to glares and cold looks directed his way when he walked past.

Perhaps it was understandable. Connor was clearly the first of his kind; in a sense that he was directly involved with investigations, an unheard of feat for any android. While police did use androids for general work being so involved with cases clearly made people uneasy, and with that unease came distrust and anger.

Nevertheless, the idea of people treating their computers or phones with more respect than androids made anger boil in your veins. Androids may not be humans—not in a physical, tangible sense—but they were still alive, and deserved at least some measure of respect.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor’s voice rang out as he halted before a desk, causing you to almost bump into him. “This is your newest assistant (Name).”

You glanced over his slim shoulders to look at the man seated behind a desk. He looked weathered, his grey hair unkempt and beard untrimmed. A crushing sort of weight seemed to weight him down, the slumped set of his shoulders rising briefly as if he tried to fight off irritation.

The man finally lifted his head, bright blue eyes narrowing upon spotting Connor before sliding slowly towards you. His bloodshot eyes narrowed even further, accenting the deep bags under his eyes.

It was as you stared at the deep age lines on his face that you realised something absolutely ridiculous.

He’s completely hungover.

Taking a step forward, you extended your hand towards the man, shooting Connor a quick glance. He appeared unsurprised by the state of their supervisor and observed your interaction with mild interest.

“It’s pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant,” you began, “My name is (Name). I hope to learn much under your command.”

Anderson looked you up and down without taking your hand, “Oh yes, Seattle’s youngest and brightest,” he stated voice full of disdain. “How old are you anyway kid?”

Letting your hand fall, you stared at the man in front of you incredulously. Ignoring his judgemental stare you replied with a slight smile, “Age is no guarantee of efficiency,” you told him before adding, “sir.”

Anderson snorted, bending down to his work again; a clear dismissal that stung more than you expected. You’ve been so excited to work with this man. He was a high profile detective, or had been, once, before alcohol clearly unmade him like it did so many others.

“My age does not reflect my ability, sir,” you explained hastily, “If you would just listen—”

“No kid, you listen,” Anderson cut you off. “It’s bad enough they forced this tin can on me, now some rookie from Seattle? I don’t care if you think you’re some big shot over there, okay? Here you do what I say and we take it from there. Understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Anderson,” you acknowledged coolly. “But you should know that I’ve been looked down on before and it will not stop me from proving my worth.”

Anderson blinked a few times as if shocked before his eyes widened. “Jesus, kid. That’s not what I meant,” he explained, running a hand over his face with exasperation. “Just keep your head down and work hard. And call me Hank.”

Anderson—Hank—stumbled to his feet and grabbed his phone before turning to you, gaze suddenly focused on Connor who still hadn’t moved from your side. You had almost forgotten he was there.

“You show (Name) around, got it?” he directed his words at Connor who nodded marginally.

“Certainly Lieutenant,” he replied swiftly. “Are you departing already? I must remind you that we still have unfinished reports to deal with.”

Hank rolled his eyes and shooting an irritated look the androids’ way marched past you both.

“Then finish them,” he snapped gruffly, and then he was gone.

You stared at the closed elevator door in mild disbelief.

“That was—he—”

You couldn't finish your sentence, completely lost for words. It wasn’t that Hank was unkind, but you did not expect him to be so...irritable, or hungover.

“Yes, as far as first meetings go that was not the best one,” Connor pointed out drily.

Despite yourself, you chuckled weakly at his poor attempt at humour.

—x—x—

Detroit was beautiful in the early morning sun.

The vast contrast between the modern and the old was striking. It was like the city was divided into two different factions, not quite settling on either. One turn led to skyscrapers and busy concrete pathways while others to abandoned, boarded-up shop windows with dirty alleyways.  

Still, you preferred to avoid big crowds if you could, so doing your shopping in the morning was much preferable. You still needed some basics for your new flat. Mundane, uninteresting things like a kettle and a toaster.

Wrapping your coat tighter around yourself to battle the early morning chill, you gazed thoughtfully at different shop displays. After a quick search on the internet, you found that this Shopping Center was closest to where you lived; a pleasant 10-minute walk to be exact. It was both a good way to stretch your legs and see more of the neighbouring area.

Humming to yourself, you were in the middle of comparing two different toasters when the sound of a commotion reached your ears.

Turning quickly, you spotted a group of anti-android protestors not far from you. Their leader, a tall, sneering man was violently manhandling an android.   

“Hey,” you snapped angrily when you saw the man roughly push the android over. “What the hell are you doing?”

Running towards them, you pushed your hand against the protester’s chest who was readying himself for a kick.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” the man growled lowly. “I'm going to show this stupid machine where its place is.”

You pushed yourself in the man’s path, pulling out your new badge. Few protesters recoiled upon noticing the police badge but the sneering man looked untroubled. If anything his expression seemed to tighten even further, a scalding sort of fury in his eyes.

“You touch that android and I'll arrest you and all your buddies for destruction of property,” you replied coldly. “Disruption of peace and breach of android law number 38. You really want that?”

Truthfully, you would only be able to arrest the man since he was the instigator of the attack but it would be easier just to scare them all off.

The man took a sudden step towards you and you tensed, reading yourself for a fight. But he only leaned forward, towering over you, only a breath away from your face. His expression was hateful; all pinched mouth and sneers, no sign of kindness or compassion to be found.

“I despise people like you,” he snarled quietly, his words meant only for you. “Protecting these machines, treating them as equals. You make me sick. One day when those things take over your job and leave your family hungry and desperate... I hope you'll remember this moment.”

With that, he shoved past you roughly, his shoulder colliding with yours. You managed to keep your expression neutral though your body refused to relax as you watched the man and his friends walk away. Angry people often did stupid things, you knew this from experience, and that man struck you as the type to lose self-control. His words, while undoubtedly bitter, did not hurt you nor did they make you question yourself. You were proud of your resolve and refuse to change your mind just because so many thought you should. Maybe if people just stopped being so angry things would be better.

Sighing, you pocketed your badge before turning your attention to the fallen android. He was on his knees, staring blankly at the slight bruise on his palm.

“Hey, are you injured?”

The android moved his head up so you could see his face, his bright green eyes startling you for a moment. He only gazed at you patiently, not saying a word before you knelt before him, carefully touching his palm.

“What’s your name?” you inquired patiently. “Is there anyone I could call?”

The android shook his head once, a precise and practised motion before he answered, “I am detecting no internal damage,” he told you before adding, “My name is Markus.”

You nodded, gingerly picking up his fallen parcel.

“It’s nice to meet you, Markus, I’m (Name),” you introduced yourself as you got to your feet, outstretching your hand towards the fallen android.

He peered at you unblinkingly for a moment before placing his hand in yours. You knew the gesture was unnecessary since the android stood up in one fluid motion, but you still wanted to make sure that he was truly alright.

“I’m very sorry about those guys,” you said regretfully. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright getting home?”

“Violence is not an uncommon response to my kind.”

You felt anger ring through you at the casual, matter-of-fact way he said it. Like it was to be expected. Like it was normal.

“I can understand their anger,” you countered immediately, frustration clear in your voice. “But it absolutely does not give them the right to attack the first person they see. It’s not right.”

Markus tilted his head to one side sharply, eyes focusing on you for one uncomfortable moment. It was like someone had pressed the Pause button on his entire existence. After another few seconds, you started to grow concerned for his well being, wondering if he was truly undamaged in the fall.

“Markus?”

The android blinked a few times, and only then did you notice his flickering indicator; a clear sign that he was processing something.

“I apologise but I must return to my owner now.”

You jumped slightly at his abrupt reply, “Yeah, of course.”

His gaze shifted down and you suddenly remembered that you still help his parcel in your hands.

“Sorry,” you said with a slight, embarrassed laugh. “There you go.”

But as you extended the parcel towards him, you caught the name printed on the packaging and faltered.

“You paint?” you questioned excitedly, an enthusiastic grin breaking across your face.

Markus shook his head in reply, gently taking the parcel from your hands. “I do not, but my owner does.”

“My best friend Steph paints as well,” you divulged happily. “She is really good too! Had a show in Seattle last year and everything. She mostly paints still life but it’s so inspiring—”

You trailed off because thinking about Steph made you think about Seattle and how different things were now. How much you had lost, including Steph—especially Steph. Markus was still staring at you. Expression almost eerily familiar to the expression on Connor’s face yesterday. Like something incredibly difficult and confusing was placed before them that they could not figure out.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't hold you any longer.”

Markus hesitated, a moment of brief uncertainty crossing his face before he nodded again in that felicitous manner.

“Please be careful,” you shot his way with a brief wave before turning in the opposite direction, starting your journey towards work, earlier shopping trip post-noted for now.

Just before you turned the corner, you glanced back and almost stopped when you realised Markus had not moved.

In fact, he was in the exact same spot, bright green eyes focused on your retreating figure.

—x—x—

“Good morning Bob!”

The android in question raised his head slowly at your jovial greeting. The redhead woman from yesterday sneered at you as you stopped by the desk. Crinkling her nose in distaste, she turned back to face her computer, trying to pretend she wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“It is indeed morning Miss (Name),” was the androids dispassionate reply and you grinned at him. Bob was clearly an older model. DH-230 was one of the oldest models still in circulation by CyberLife and you couldn't help but be surprised that the police department still used such an old model. Bob’s model lacked adaptability and ease the newest models—Connor came to mind almost immediately—had.

“Are you alright?” you questioned easily as you placed your palm against the scanner.

Bob blinked slowly, his indicator flickering for a few seconds before he dipped his head once.

“I detect no system errors,” he finally concluded.

The redhead snorted loudly and you shot her a hard look before turning your attention back to Bob. “I’m glad to hear it. If anyone tries to pick a fight you tell me right away, okay?”

You spoke purposely loudly, casting a meaningful look in the redhead’s direction. The not so subtle hint seemed to fly over Bob’s head, however, his face an unshifting mask of indifference.

“I will be sure to inform you of any transgressions Miss (Name).”

“Good.”

With last firm glance at the woman, you waved at Bob who only watched you silently as you walked towards the elevator. Pressing the familiar button you relaxed, allowing your mind to wonder. While yesterday was all about getting settled in—something Connor graciously helped you with—there was still much to be done. Real work would start today and there was a lot to cover if Connor’s offhand remarks were accurate. With Hank’s...issues, it was perhaps no surprise that they assigned an additional person to the investigation.

When the elevator halted to a stop, you immediately stepped out, allowing other people in before you moved towards your table. Thankfully Connor suggested simply sharing the workspace since according to him he did not require much space. The idea of sitting by yourself somewhere else on the floor did not exactly appeal to you. As such, you were happy you managed to work out a better solution.

Speaking of the android, you spotted him almost instantly, his jacket sticking out in a sea of mundane clothing. When you got closer, you had to suppress a laugh at the stiff way Connor sat in his chair, hands folded carefully in his lap. It was perhaps the most un-human thing you’ve seen him do so far—and considering the near frightening way he could adapt and mimic human interactions—it said a lot.

“Good morning Connor.” you greeted pleasantly.

Your slight smile grew when you noticed how Connor immediately turned towards the sound of your voice. The neutral expression on his face lifted slightly, something almost pleasant flickering across it before he inclined his head in greeting. “Good morning (Name). I trust you had a pleasant night’s rest.”

“It was good, thanks,” you answered, taking off your jacket, eyes sliding towards the empty table in front of yours. “Lieutenant’s still not here?”

Connor replied without looking away, “Indeed not. We should not expect him until noon, if at all. As such, may I suggest we get started?”

Exhaling in astonishment you only nodded, almost falling into your seat. The pile of documents you had to go through was...substantial to say the least. The sooner you started the better.

Unfortunately, it took you only ten minutes of work to come to a sickening realisation.

“This is completely unbelievable,” you muttered in shock, Connor pausing his work beside you, inquisitive gaze focused on you. “This is isn’t just a problem. Deviancy in this city is more of a—I don’t know, an epidemic? Is it really this excessive?”

Connor blinked silently, still focusing on you. “It is,” he told you simply. “It’s the reason CyberLife sent me in. With my involvement, they believe this investigation will be solved quicker. I can only assume that is the reason you were assigned as well.”     

You glanced at him curiously. He told you yesterday how he was a prototype designed specifically to adapt and learn in order to make integration easier. He was designed for police work that much was clear but he was still unlike any other android you’ve ever seen.

He was expressive for one. Even now his face shifted between micro expressions; a slow shift of his facial muscles, a few blinks, a crease between his brows or shift of his shoulders. While he was still so clearly an android something about Connor was inherently different.

“(Name)?” he prompted faintly.

Blinking rapidly you snapped your gaze away from him, “Sorry, really spaced out there,” you explained with a weak chuckle.

You fell back into work easily, making good progress on the giant pile on your desk before noon. Which is ironically when Hank decided to slip in, a troubling sort of stumble in his step. Even from the distance, you could smell the acidic sting of alcohol. If anything he looked even worse than he did yesterday; bleary-eyed and scowling like the world was out to get him.

“Good morning Lieutenant,” Connor greeted drily. “How are you this afternoon?”

Trying, and failing, to smother your grin, you glanced at Hank who shot the android a furious glare. He muttered something angrily under his breath before seating himself down heavily.

You and Connor continued looking at him before Hank looked up and snapped, “What are you two looking at?”

You sighed wearily before muttering, “Would you like some painkillers, sir? You look like you need them.”

Hank scowled at you fiercely, looking like he was about to unload some not-so-kind words towards you before, eventually, nodding reluctantly.            

Ignoring Connor’s unwavering gaze, you fished out a few tablets that you passed to the man. Still scowling, he swallowed them dry before getting to his own pile of work with a pained expression. You shared a brief look with Connor before focusing on your own work once again.

There was only silence after that, but silence was better than tension.

—x—x—

Hank only stayed till 5 before declaring that he had “things to do” which you were starting to realise translated roughly to “getting drunk”. He at least looked more human than he did when he walked in. Connor met his words with a flicker of distaste on his face but did not comment.

“Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere,” you told him tiredly, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “There’s still way too much to go through.”

And there was. The list of leads, evidence, and anonymous tips seemed endless. Reports that needed to be written or altered or archived even more so. Police work always involved paperwork, it was just the way it was, but this was getting irksome.

Together you worked tirelessly for another few hours, the station almost empty now before you realised that your eyes felt like sandpaper and the words before you were blurring. You leaned in your chair with a sharp exhale.

“I think it’s time to call it a day,” you concluded, exhaustion clear in your voice. “We can pick it up tomorrow.”

Connor tilted his head to one side, the gesture making him look young—almost bemused—before he rose from his chair. He looked exactly like he did this morning, not a single crease of tiredness or fatigue to be found on his face.

Another reminder, you thought to yourself silently.

“Thank you for today Connor,” you mentioned thoughtfully, tidying your space. “I’m starting to think that you’re godsend.”

It was true. Connor was staggeringly efficient. Without him, you doubted you would have gotten through half the pile. Now, less than half remained.

Connor shifted his focus to you, rubbing his hands together in a manner that made you pause. It was—it was such a human tick to have, something someone may do if they were nervous or uneasy.

Another oddity, you thought perturbed.

The familiar crease between his brows was back, a tiny flicker of his indicator showcasing his unease with something.

“You are welcome,” he replied, gesturing for you to walk in front of him. “We made good progress today.”

He appeared pleased about that as he fell into step beside you. You both exited the police station side by side, the nippy autumn air instantly biting at your nose.

At least it wasn’t raining.

In fact, the night was cold and clear, full moon hanging like a silent, sentient guardian in the sky.

Walking down the steps you spoke, “We make a good team,” you mused with a slight grin. “Although I do admit this was not what I expected when I transferred here. I guess it will look better on my resume if I stick with it.”

Connor paused, staring towards you curiously, “Was Detroit not your intended destination?”

“Oh no,” you quickly replied, coming to a stop. “It was. It’s definitely a step up from Seattle. But my dream is to work in Washington. I would like to join the FBI one day. But it’s not that easy, you know? Especially when you don’t have much field experience.”

“Your ambition is admirable.”

You blinked a few times before a startled laugh left your mouth. Glancing towards the sky, you stretched your hand forward, covering the beautiful and glowing moon, “When I was little my grandmother used to tell me: “Shoot for the moon, little one, even if you miss you'll land amongst the stars.” And now I always do.”

“Norman Vincent Peale.” was his immediate retort.

You felt, rather than heard, Connor come to stand beside you. You didn’t look away from your outstretched hand, but you couldn't help but smile wider when you felt his focused gaze on you.

After a second your smile faltered, a bloom of sadness taking root in your soul. “My mother used to call me a dreamer,” you began faintly. “A dreamer of impossible dreams. Of course, for her, that was just synonym with a naive idiot. She wasn’t wrong but—”

“I was under the assumption that human determination is one of their biggest strengths,” Connor said with unexpected firmness in his voice. “Our world was created by dreamers after all.”

Your hand shook slightly and you hastily dropped it, your fingers tightening into a fist. The moon, beautiful and visible once again, shone down on you and for one bizarre moment, you couldn’t speak.

You wondered if Connor knew how much those words meant to you.

You glanced up at him, only to see him already peering down at you with something like confusion on his face. His indicator fluttered every few seconds and you couldn't help but smile at him faintly.

“Thank you for that Connor,” you told him very softly, genuine warmth filling your chest and tone.

A brief flash of yellow flared through Connor’s LED but before he could reply, you turned around and started your trek home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder with a muffled chuckle and a wave.

You gave him one last glance and almost laughed at the bewildered, intense look on his face as you walked away. 

———

an: I hope you don't mind a denser, longer chapter as I wanted to get some background/plot stuff established. It's very interesting to balance Connor at the beginning because he still has to come off cold/neutral/indifferent like he did at the beginning of the game. But don't worry with Reader's positive influence he's going to start warming up eventually. :) Once again thank you for your feedback and I'm always open to suggestions/constructive feedback. Or if you have any questions feel free to shoot them my way! Love you all. <3

LOVELY PEOPLE: 

@katherineschild @dpslover4life-blog @yraneya

(let me know if you want to be tagged in the future! :D)

[thatwitchrevan]

Mical tried to ignore the muttered swearing - he wanted to finish this reading before his free time was up and he was required to return to his dormitory. But the quiet, frustrated chatter didn’t cease, and just as he was beginning to feel frustrated himself another, calmer voice joined in with the first.

“Revan, you have got to calm down. The library staff is not going to be happy if you keep disturbing the peace.”

“Fuck the peace, Vrook is gonna have my head if I don’t finish this on time. I promised him.”

Mical sat up slightly, looking in the direction of the voices. Their source was obscured by the library shelves in between him and the main area of tables, but he was tempted to abandon his reading after all and seek them out. He knew of only one ‘Revan’ at the Enclave, and his curiosity would not allow him to ignore a chance to see her. She was so often on missions these days, and never came to observe the younglings. She apparently had no intention of taking an apprentice, which had greatly disappointed some of Mical’s peers.

“If you explained to him that you overextended yourself, I’m sure he’d give you more time.”

“Yeah, right. Master Vrook is always looking for a way to take me down. And then Arianna will tell me I should’ve used my time better, and Master Kae will just smirk at me like a smug old bat. I’d rather crash and burn than admit defeat at this point.”

Mical sat up further, listening with interest. One of the more curious things about Revanna Lin was the number of master who were invested in her training. She’d officially been apprenticed with Master Arianna Lien until knighthood (“A good enough master,” according Master Vandar), but it was Vrook Lamar who had brought her to the academy and watched over her, Zhar Lestin who had guided her on the path of a Jedi Guardian, and Master Arren Kae who fed her mind with philosophy and, according to some, discontent. All of this Mical knew simply from listening. The masters seemed always to be talking about Revan.

The conversation turned back to irritated muttering, so Mical stood and headed towards the speakers. He poked his head around the shelves he’d been sitting between, saw the two young knights a few tables down. One had dark skin and coily brown hair, and wore a frustrated expression. The other was Revan - pale, with black hair pinned behind her head, a serious and determined scowl aimed at the datapads in front of her.

Mical approached timidly, conscious of how small, how young he was. Still just a youngling, and this legend to be didn’t want a padawan; fair enough, and she wasn’t the master he wanted, either, but it meant she had no use for him, might have no reason to entertain his interest. He approached anyway.

Mical had no idea what to say, but before he could come up with something Revan had gotten frustrated again and slammed her hand lightly on the table. “Dammit!” she said, not even quietly this time. Her companion looked angry, but this late at night there was no one here but them, Mical, and the staff, none of whom were near enough to comment.

Revan sighed and then looked up at the intruder, her striking, light eyes piercing him. “Yes?”

Mical faltered, then bowed hurriedly. “Sorry, ma’am. Knight Lin. I just-”

“Revan is fine,” the knight interrupted.

Mical frowned, but of confusion rather than irritation. “Pardon?”

“No ‘miss’ or ‘ma’am’ or anything. You can call me Revan. And that’s Selena.” Revan gestured to her friend across the table, who reconstructed her irritated look into a warm smile for Mical. “And you are?”

Mical’s small hands shook. He so rarely spoke to the knights. And while only one was of particular interest to him, he was in admiration and fear of them all. “I - um, Mical. I’m Mical.”

Revan nodded. Her expression was bored, but not unkind. She relaxed in her chair with her arm resting on the pile of holobooks and regarded him. “So. Do you need something, Mical?”

“Uh..not exactly, Mi- Revan. I just. Wanted to speak to you. Uh, see if you need any help, maybe.”

He hadn’t intended to offer any assistance, and probably couldn’t, but he could think of no other excuse for speaking to her. And she did not seem the type to indulge the curiosity of young hopefuls.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m doing a research project for Master Vrook. It’s to do with highly theoretical concepts on the Force. I’m not sure a youngling can help.”

Mical tried not to fidget his hands. Why had he done this? Talking to people was hard, especially adults. “I could try. I spend a lot of time in the library.”

Revan laughed, the sound soft and musical. “Clearly. Come here then, Mical.”

Mical hesitated a moment before walking toward her. There was something about her...she was just as strange as she was charming. He looked uncertainty at her companion, who shrugged as if to say she didn’t understand either.

Revan was looking down at him now, with how close he stood to her chair. In a few years, he’d be nearly as tall as her, but for now he was so small. “You’re Meetra’s hopeful, aren’t you? She’s told me about you.”

Warmth spread from the center of Mical’s chest. He’d wanted to be Surik’s apprentice for a time now, but he’d never imagined she might want him, too. And to talk about him to her friends, when his training would still be a couple years away! He found himself smiling. “What did she say?” he heard himself ask, and this time both Jedi laughed.

“She said if she decides to be a teacher, she wants you,” Selena told him, smiling. “She said if any of us take you from her, she’ll never speak to us again.”

“She doesn’t have to tell me,” Revan sighed. “No matter how much Vrook and Arianna nag, I’m not getting an apprentice anytime soon.”

“Oh but Revan, you’d make such a good teacher.”

“Please, I’m just glad I could help Alek get knighted. A kid is too much for me.” Revan picked up one of the datapads and showed it to Mical. “Alright kid, so here’s the thing. I’m supposed to be researching all these topics, and I’ve got most of them already. I uh, also spend a lot of time here. But it’s this last one I’m having trouble with. The only sources I can find on it aren’t in-depth enough.”

Bless Ashla, Mical recognized the term. “I have an idea,” he squeaked, and then rushed off to one of the shelves nearby. He returned with a heavy, older datapad and set it on the desk. “I think I read something about it in here. Check the contents table.”

Revan powered on the datapad and did as he said, and after a moment she made a soft noise of affirmation. “Yes, there’s a whole chapter here.” She opened the chapter and scanned it. “This is perfect, Mical. Thank you.”

She looked sideways at him and smiled. “You really study hard, don’t you.”

Mical nodded, perhaps a bit quickly. He flushed a little from embarrassment, but Revan didn’t seem annoyed. “Yes, ma- Revan. I love to read.”

“Good. That’s how I got where I am. Keep it up, and soon you’ll be a wise and well-read padawan.”

Mical beamed, a wave of hope washing over him, but there was still a tinge of cold anxiety underneath it. After all, no one had expressed any explicit interest in him to him, or to any of his teachers.

Revan frowned as if she could sense it. Maybe she could. “Don’t worry, Mical. You’re going to be a great Jedi. I promise.”

-

Revan closed the door to Meetra’s dorm a little more harshly than was necessary and turned a light frown on her friend.

Meetra was apparently just out of the shower, her short hair damp, and was sitting on her bed in her nightclothes. She looked up from cleaning the hilt as her lightsaber as Revan approached, brow raised as she waited for Revan to speak.

“You need to have a talk with your padawan.” There was an edge of frustration in her voice, a chill to her blue eyes.

Meetra’s expression became confused. “I have no padawan.”

Revan shook her head - she had no patience for Meetra today, it seemed. “You know who I mean. That little boy that practically worships you? The one we’ve all sworn off for you, once you decide to pay attention to him? I spoke to him today, and he had no idea you were intending to claim him.”

Meetra looked down at her lightsaber and sighed deeply. “I haven’t spoken to him because I did not wish to raise his hopes. I haven’t decided if and when I intend to train an apprentice.”

“Meetra, this is one of the brightest kids of his generation, and he’s being completely overlooked. I felt how anxious he was for you to choose him. And if you don’t, and he gets stuck with someone like Vrook? They’ll crush him, Meetra. All that creativity, all that spirit, all that hope could be ruined if the wrong person trains him.”

Meetra met her eyes with something that was almost a glare. “Why don’t you train him, then?”

Revan was not impressed. She stepped closer, her eyes genuinely angry now. “Do you think I have anything near the temperament to train some ten year old? I’d fuck him up! Which is exactly my point, Meetra; he doesn’t need just anyone. He needs you.”

Meetra looked at her weapon again, and consequently her hands. She finished polishing the lightsaber with the rag and set both aside on the bed next to her. “And what about the war? What if I leave before he’s ready to start training? Before I’m ready?”

Revan shook her head. “I don’t know Meetra. But you can’t just leave him hanging. He’s...he’s meant to be with you, Meetra. Can’t you tell?”

Meetra shrugged. “I don’t know what’s so special about me.”

Revan sighed and sat down next to her, on the opposite side of where her saber rested. “Then you’re not paying enough attention. Look, just go talk to him. Tell him you’re interested in training him, give the poor kid some hope. And don’t be afraid to get attached to him. It’s going to work out. I know it is.”

She looked at her friend. “Every time I think about how much time was wasted on Alek...I don’t want to see another kid go through that. He needs you. Maybe you need him and you just don’t know it yet. And the Council isn’t sending us to war anytime soon, so. You might as well start planning for the future.”

Meetra met her eye. “What about you?”

Revan shook her head. “Only future I’m worried about is getting this project back to Vrook so he doesn’t lecture my head off.” She patted Meetra’s leg and stood. “See you, Surik. Go talk to your padawan.”

-

Meetra almost backed out five times, but she managed to make herself wait outside Master Vandar’s class until the students started filing out. She caught sight of Mical and barely a second later he caught sight of her. The smile that split his face did the same to her heart - she’d forgotten how small he was, how much he adored her.

She waited until he came to stand in front of her. “Mical. Do you have a minute? I’d like to speak with you.”

Mical nodded eagerly, so she led him to the courtyard. She sat on one of the benches and he sat beside her, and then she realised she had no idea how to do this.

When she was eleven, she certainly thought twenty one was a mature age. Now, she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t feel like much of an adult, even compared to him. “Mical,” she started. She looked over and realized he was watching her, hanging on her every word. Force. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you sooner.”

His eyes shined at her, hope and worry fighting each other in his mind. Force.

“Ever since I met you, Mical, I’ve thought you were special. I believe my friends told you I had some interest in training you. And that’s true.” Hope was getting a leg up, but fear was smart enough to sense a ‘but’. “I’m still young, though, Mical, and you’re two years from being of age to train as an apprentice.”

Mical nodded, probably fighting to keep his expression neutral. Younglings always struggled with controlling their emotions - Meetra certainly had. “I understand.”

Meetra smiled, trying to be reassuring. “This isn’t a ‘no’, Mical. It’s merely that I don’t want to make any promises to you that I can’t keep. You’re special, and I would love to train you. But I can’t see the future even one step ahead of me.”

She fought down the lump forming in her throat. Chaos, yet harmony. The war may be raging terribly, but she had a place here. Maybe this was where she was meant to be, regardless of what happened. It’s where she wanted to be.

It was dangerous, to allow herself to imagine it. Training Mical, spending years with him and watching him grow, working with her friends and their padawans, going on relief missions and then coming home to calm, beautiful Dantooine. But the suffering outside their little, serene world was getting worse, and whatever the Council said she knew someone needed to intervene. What if she had to be that someone?

But Mical’s hope was wavering, and it killed her. Meetra sighed and touched his soft, bright hair. “Mical. My friend, please don’t be sad. I may not be able to see the future, but I believe in you. Even if I’m not here when your time comes, you’ll find your way. And as much as I can, I’ll be there for you.” Maybe if she couldn’t train him, she could come home after the war, while he was still an apprentice, and help him the way Zhar and Kae had helped Revan. If not a master, maybe she could be his mentor.

If she came home.

Mical nodded, and his storm of emotions moved her so much that she pulled the boy into a loose hug. He stilled from surprise, then wrapped his arms around her as she rested her hand on his back. “Remember, Mical, that your strength doesn’t come from other people. It comes from you. I may not be here to teach you, but you already have everything it takes to be a great Jedi. Just follow your heart, and trust in the Force. And trust in your own strength. It will not fail you.”

-

“I know you,” she said again, and this time she wasn’t planning to back down. Maybe he could tell.

He sighed, smiling patiently on the end of it, like he’d known he’d eventually have to explain himself. “My name is Mical. Perhaps that helps?”

Meetra frowned, her expression changing as she went through several different levels of confusion. She could see him holding back a laugh at the sight. “Mical? My Mical? From the Enclave?”

He nodded. “It’s been, well. A long time.”

She blinked. Her expression and thoughts were foggy, her brain still catching up. “You can say that again. Force, Mical.” She looked him over, as if only just now seeing him. He’d been frozen in her memory as a scrawny youngling with too-wide eyes. “You’re...grown up.”

He did laugh now, just a small chuckle escaping his resolve to be serious. “That does tend to happen, as time passes.”

Meetra grinned, slowly, the expression growing from her bewildered frown. “I suppose so. I’m not as young as I used to be, either.” She hesitated, then leaned forward, hugging him with enough hesitance that he could step back if he wanted. He didn’t. He held her to his chest with a fierceness she never would’ve expected from him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she told him. “I meant to be. I would have much rather trained you than do anything that I did. I wanted to train you, Mical, I just-”

“Shh.” His hand gently rubbed her back. “It’s nothing to apologize for. You were needed elsewhere. And I found my way, just like you promised.” He released her as she pulled back to disengage, smiling softly at her. “I’m very happy you survived, and I’m happy to follow you now, wherever you’ll go.”

Meetra shook her head, slightly. She still didn’t feel worthy of that responsibility, that trust. Didn’t feel equal to it, after everything that had happened.

But Force, if the galaxy was giving her a second chance with Mical, she was damn well going to take it.   

[feywildatheart]

Darna, I hate this planet.

Elyn convinced me to leave Nosirion-1 behind with the temptation of witnessing vast mechanical cities moving through the desert like insects scampering across logs, and instead all we’ve found is sand and upset and strife, an endless series of labyrinthine tunnels and so very, very many dead. I should have stayed with the Silver Tree and helped the scientists explore the planet and got to see Loren and Devon settled in properly and spent my evenings singing halfling ballads in the inn with Ren.

…I don’t really mean that, I suppose, but I’m so tired and I’m so angry, and everything that’s happened since we landed here has made my heart heavy. We spent most of the day walking only to discover we were walking in circles, and it’s my fault and I should have known better. You taught me better. I wasted everyone’s time and maybe now more people are going to die because we’ve had to stop for the night before we’ve found Rihash, and that’s on me. I should have seen it. I was so busy worrying about falling into illusioned pits that would have damaged little more than my dignity that I failed to see that I’d led us into a much more devious trap, and this one of my own making. I don’t know how my maps failed me so badly, I don’t know how your training failed me so badly, but I just wish we could leave this place and be done with it.

You can’t know what a comfort your letter was to me. I don’t even know how I managed to get signal enough to receive it, when we’re buried deep under the barren desert, with any cities (any cities that are still standing, in any case) most of a day’s travel away. But I woke this morning to the beep of my LICD as your message came through, and it could hardly have been timed better. Thankfully, Pika was too distracted with some sort of fervent praying this morning to comment on how I was crying openly into Squirt’s fur, not that she’d have been likely to say anything anyway — though then again, perhaps she would have. I’ve stopped thinking that I can do anything like predict her. And Elyn at least was kind enough to only ask me if I was all right, and then leave it at that.

I’m very glad to hear your work is going well. You’ll have to send me what you’ve charted so far, and once you jump to the next site, so I can find you whenever I do manage to make it back to the Feywild. What sort of pattern have you found in them? Don’t think just because I’m half a galaxy away that I’m not just as keen to understand them as I was when I was drawing maps at your side. Please, tell me everything. Tell me everything you would if I were there, if I’d never left.

I… Look, darnaneth, you know me. I don’t think you’d believe me, if I did promise to stay safe. I am your daughter, and you’re my mother, who took up sword and bow to protect Cylla and me while she carried me. I can’t not help, when I see others who could use my assistance. I can’t hang back where it’s safe if it means letting others face the dangers instead.

Even if I wanted to, my companions are both too keen to throw themselves into the fray instead of keeping themselves safe, and so I must be my mothers’ daughter, and trade bow for sword, and wade in to keep them both from getting themselves killed. I did try to convince Elyn, after she nearly died at my feet in this last fight, that she ought to at least consider the merits of fleeing to safety when she finds she’s outmatched, but she doesn’t like the idea of letting others face danger while she hides from it any more than I do.

(I know, I know. The irony of this isn’t lost on me, believe me. But honestly, I’m hardier than either of them are, and I’m not too proud to retreat when it’s prudent.)

I do promise to try, though. I’ve no wish to die, nor do I relish the thought of being grievously injured. I’m trying to be as safe as I can be, and still do the things that need doing. I’m still not entirely sure what it is we’re facing here on Rugira Prime, because Pika’s been even less forthcoming than she ordinarily is, but she’s jumping at every shadow, so I have to imagine the danger is particularly great. And that’s not even counting the cities being swallowed up whole, or whatever it is who’s been stalking the fallen cities and picking off survivors. But I can’t turn my back when people are dying and could be saved, and whatever government there is here— Well, Pika’s told us little of that, too, but I’ve got nothing kind to say about them, when two cities got swallowed up by the desert and, so far as we can tell, there’s been little or no effort on the part of the authorities to discover what happened to them, or locate survivors. Nida — she’s one of the few survivors we found in Arkard, though I’m getting ahead of myself here — she seemed to be full of excuses for why they wouldn’t, how it’s treacherous in the desert and a search-and-rescue mission might be too dangerous, how there might be little to find if an earthquake just swallowed a city up whole, but— honestly, darna, we’re three women (three women and a dog if we count Squirt, which you know I always do) and we found them inside of two days. They’ve been down here for months and months. People could have been saved, and so far as I can tell the authorities have just… done nothing. Just shrugged and chalked both cities up as a loss and continued on their merry ways, and have I mentioned I hate this planet? It’s not just the sand and the heat and the desert, though they’d be miserable enough on their own. The Feywild is a treacherous place to live, and so we looked out for one another. But here, where they need each other the most, they just… don’t, so far as I’ve seen. They just let whole cities be swallowed up and continue about their day because at least it’s not their city. Pika’s so focused on her own objective here, and I pointed out that perhaps we ought to be concerned about what happened to these two lost cities, because if it had happened to them what’s to stop it from happening to the city her objective lies within, and she—

Well.

I’ll get to that.

The point is, people as individuals may be kind and may look out for others — Nida seems to be sheltering a small group of fellow survivors, and Tace sent us out here to discover what had happened, after all, and Snapdragon’s been more generous than I could have ever expected (but, no, I’ll get to that, too. Have patience with me, darna, I’m trying to work myself up to it but it’s no easy thing to talk about) — but Rugira Prime as a whole seems a wretched, unkind, self-centered place. There’s such poverty here, darna, and such incredible wealth, and it’s heartbreaking to the see the two side by side and see no one trying to help those who need it the most desperately.

Nida offered us water and provisions before we left to try to find Rihash, offered it to us, when we’ve got full packs and they’ve been trapped down there for months, using up what supplies weren’t damaged in the fall and unsure of any rescue. There are kind and generous people here, but they’re not the ones who have the power to make a difference in any sort of lasting, meaningful manner, that much is clear.

I’m sorry it’s hard and strange, darna. I hope you know it is for me, too. I miss you both every day. Sometimes I lower my bow and take a breath at the end of a battle and for a moment it’s startling to realize you aren’t both there fighting next to me. Sometimes I have to catch myself before I turn to ask you a question, or tell you a thought that I know would make you laugh. I still don’t regret leaving, but sometimes I wish there might have been a way to do so but still have you with me, more tangibly than just these letters sent between us.

Oh— Oh, darna, I never thought you might read that letter and think it was written by someone else. And I’m sorry I was so short in it, I wasn’t trying to hide something from you that I thought would worry you. I promised you both that I’d tell you everything, and I meant it. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you what happened. I thought maybe with some time I could put my thoughts in order and figure it out, but I still don’t. I’ve spent this whole letter trying to work my way around to it and I still don’t have the right words. But I can’t bear the thought that it’s made you worry more than I know you already do. I’ll just have to do it poorly, then, and I know you’ll forgive me if I’m a bit of a mess through it.

I told you about making that comment to Pika, expressing concern that the thing we’re here for might end up swallowed up beneath the sands next, if everyone keeps shrugging off the disappearance of these other cities. And, I still don’t understand how or why when all I wanted was to ensure that it stays safe, but she took it as a threat somehow, and before I could so much as blink had spun on me and pressed a dagger against my throat and snarled something at me that I can’t even remember now, I was so startled and taken aback and hurt. Not physically hurt, I should say, before you and Cylla both pack up your things and come tearing out here to have words with her, just. I never expected it of her. I’m still shaken, if I’m honest, and feeling like I have to be guarded with her now where I was only ever open with her before. But Snapdragon says it’s borne of fear. She used some terribly lovely metaphor that I’m probably mangling as I try to recall it, but she said that she’s seeing sandstorms in every bit of shifting sand. She also offered me sanctuary, if I felt I needed it, and Elyn warned Pika that if she drew steel on either of us again that she’d quickly find herself left on her own, which was an unspeakable relief, too, to have someone there at my side speaking up on my behalf. And I wrote to Athan, too, asking advice about how to handle a situation like that should it arise again, since it made me all too aware that I may be good at a distance but I don’t know what to do with myself but freeze when I’m taken by surprise like that. He sent some good advice back to me, and I’m planning to ask Tace to spar with me so I can practice his suggestions, once we leave this damned desert behind us and get back to the city.

I love you both so much. You’ve made me cry all over again, just rereading your letter. I have been meaning to see if I couldn’t find a temple where I could make an offering to Cernunnos, once we get back to a city, if for no other reason than because he answered my prayers when I spoke them unthinking in regards to the Yeruses, and perhaps he might be equally inclined to help with our task here on Rugira Prime. I haven’t decided whether it’s more or less likely that a desert people might give offerings to a god of green and growing things.

You are both a comfort to me, in your own ways. I couldn’t ask for better mothers than you. And I don’t care how grown I am, I’ll always welcome and value whatever advice or encouragement either of you might see fit to offer. You two and the things you’ve taught me are at least half the reason why I didn’t find my way into some sort of horrible disaster five minutes after leaving the Feywild.

I’ve just given Squirt a hug so tight that I think I may have alarmed him. Hug each other for me, please, until I can make it back and do it myself. I promise I’ll come home to see you both when I can, if ever our path takes us anywhere near Caliz Beta, or any of the rings into the Feywild.

I love you. I miss you. Please be safe, and send me those maps, so I can know how to find my way back to you.

Love,

Maliah

[kaytewrites]

the quick release || masquerada: songs and shadows || chapter seven

(a/n: i am SO SORRY for the wait but like… life comes @ u fast y'all but its here!!! chapter 7!!!! and i’ve officially given up bc i think it’ll probably be another two chapters before this is over but like i said that two chapters ago and HERE WE ARE ANYWAY so like… be patient w/ me blease im trying ;^;

i made this an extra 1000 words bc y'all had to wait so long n im sorry but i hope y'all like it!

more kisses for the boys. more boys kissing. more boys being vulnerable and soft w/ each other. it’s Good all around.)

also on AO3!

They eventually wander back to the carriage - Alena instantly perks at seeing them emerge from the brush, shouting a happy “Hello, sirs!” while Ricardo blinks himself awake.

“Did you have a good time, sirs?” Alena chirps, far too chipper for how late (or how early) it is.

Tristan nods, glancing back at Vasco. He’s still got that ridiculous smile on his face, the faintest brush of red around his jaw where Tristan’s beard had rubbed it raw.

“Of course, dear Alena!” Vasco’s voice is just as chipper. It makes Tristan want to laugh, or kiss him, or both. It’s new, this want that blooms in his chest and makes his fingers grip his cane a little tighter.

Tristan shakes his head and hobbles back onto the carriage. “Hope nothing bothered you out here - sorry for keeping you both up so late.”

“’Sfine,” Ricardo mutters. “Not like we would’ve been sleeping anyway.”

Alena elbows him, making him glare at his sister. “What he meant to say is that it’s no trouble at all, Valencio.”

Tristan raises an eyebrow. “As long as both of you are fine.” Tristan settles on his seat, Vasco settling next to him just like he did on the ride here - but it feels different, now. Vasco makes sure to settle on his left side, snaking a hand between them in the dark to twine his fingers in Tristan’s own, and it’s all so adolescent and silly that he can’t stop the little laugh that bubbles up from his throat.

“What?” Vasco mumbles, but the grin on his face says he knows exactly why Tristan’s a step away from giggling.

He decides to change topics, speaking low. “Do you think the twins are alright?”

Vasco frowns, a quick twitch of his lips. “Not at all. Cicero spends more time with them than I do, and Kalden besides. They might be the ones to speak to. Suddenly concerned with the Tvothes welfare?”

Tristan nods. “Yes, I suppose. I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of a parent the entire time they’ve been with the Registry. They’ve been with us for a year now, maybe two. I know the Citte isn’t - wasn’t - isn’t kind to the Contadani, but I never thought…”

“Orphans were always more of a Sorelle affair, weren’t they?” Vasco’s voice is carefully blank, nonchalant in a way Tristan is learning means he cares far more than he lets on.

Tristan casts a glance to the twins; Alena is staring forward, chipper demeanor lost now that she doesn’t think eyes are on her. There are dark circles under her eyes from what he can see, and she slumps in her seat, exhausted. All of this he could attribute to the time, but considering her behavior earlier… Ricardo fares no better, either, though he wears his exhaustion plainly, not hiding it behind a cheery veneer.

He resolves to ask Cicero about the twins’ welfare once they return. He carefully settles his head on Vasco’s shoulder, wrapping his arm around the other man’s waist.

“The world is changing,” he thinks he hears Vasco say, but he’s asleep between one breath and the next.

They arrive back at Seimora’s Throne in the early hours of the morning, the horizon just barely tinged with the light of the sun. The twins give them both a salute as they disembark, looking more dead on their feet than ever.

“Do they have rooms here?” Tristan asks Vasco, to which he nods.

“They’ll stable the horses first, because they’re nothing if not dependable, and rest for the day - well, Ricardo will. Alena will probably sleep for an hour before forcing herself awake again.” Vasco shakes his head, tutting. “The girl never stops. She’s officially apprenticed, did you know that? Artigiani, if I’m not mistaken. Ricardo, too, though he is a Fabra.”

Tristan did not know. He didn’t even think the twins had the aptitude for that kind of careful maskwork - and yet, here they are. Color him surprised.

Vasco looks at him with some inscrutable emotion in his eyes. “You’ve always been a Masquerada, Tristan.” The smile on his face is not unkind, but it’s - it’s as though he’s staring a thousand yards off, reliving something in memory. “This is entirely normal for a Contadani.”

And of course Tristan knew. He knew how bad it was, he was Valencio, how could he not? But there was politics, and people, and Maskrunners - and somewhere along the way, the Contadani got left on the wayside.

He starts walking toward the Throne, a frown on his face. Vasco is just a step behind.

“Tristan, are you alright? You seem unfocused.”

It’s Kalden’s voice that breaks him out of his reverie. It’s been three days since his excursion, and he’s been absent-minded ever since, thoughts always finding a way to twist back to Vasco, or the Contadani, or the Tvothes. “I’m fine, Kalden. Why do you ask?”

“Mmm. I can see why you and Cicero are so close. You both do the same thing when there’s something on your mind.” He removes his hand from Tristan’s stump, handing his shirt back to him. Tristan tugs it on, tying off the end on his right arm while Kalden speaks. “Deflect to me so I can inform you what your tells are. Cicero does it far more than you do, but that may be because I spend more time with him.” Kalden sighs, shaking his head. “Both of you are a mess.”

“I do not-”

Kalden silences him with a look, and Tristan shuts his mouth.

He finishes tugging on his shirt before he speaks again.

“Vasco, I suppose. The Tvothes, too, but…” Tristan shrugs. “Were you ever Contadani, Kalden?”

The only thing betraying his annoyance is a twitch of the eyebrow and his carefully measured tone. “A rather personal question, Valencio.”

He winces. “Sorry. It’s just-”

Kalden smiles, annoyance smoothing over into understanding. “You might just be the only one of this little circle that hasn’t been Contadani, Tiziana excluded. And I presume this question doesn’t come from nowhere. Perhaps something to do with what’s been bothering you?”

“Now who’s asking pointed questions,” Tristan mutters, but doesn’t answer.

Kalden is silent for a long moment, pulling his mask from his face and letting it fade into the ether. He huffs. “Alright, Tristan. Cicero’s door, as well as mine, are always open to you.” There’s a strange twist to his mouth as he speaks the next, his eyes almost guarded. “If there is anything - anything - you may wish to speak about, we are always here for you.”

Tristan feels as though he’s missing something, but he’s already pushed as far as he dares. He doesn’t want to break the bounds of Kalden’s kindness - woe be unto the man that turns a good man hard, and all that. “Thank you,” he says instead.

Kalden nods. “If there’s any more phantom pain, tell me. There are some exercises I want to go through with you next time.” He levers himself off the chair next to the bed, heading for the door. “I think I’ve taken enough of your time today, though, Tristan.”

“You’re never a burden, Kalden. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” Tristan speaks with a smile. He really does enjoy the other man’s company, for all his occasional crypticism. At least he’s not as bad as Vasco.

And then, there’s that same almost-guarded look in Kalden’s eyes. “I was serious when I said - anything,” he says.

Tristan struggles to put together what he means - it’s obvious there’s something he’s missing, something Kalden hopes he’ll put together himself so he won’t have to speak it aloud. “Alright,” he responds slowly, hoping Kalden will just assume he understands.

Kalden just sighs, giving him a wave as he leaves. Damn. Guess he wasn’t that convincing after all.

He likes to think now that everything’s over, this is the easy part. He’s missing an arm, sure, and he’s still limping, months after the worst chapter of his life closed with his almost-death, but he’s alive. The Citte is alive. The Consilio argue, sure, but they agree more often than not and that’s a miracle in and off itself. The guilds have become more peaceable, less fractured. It’s a world Tristan never thought he’d see. It’s a world he’s glad to wake up to.

Not everything is perfect, though.

He dreams like this: snapshot images of the Spire burning around him, smoke in his lungs his throat his eyes - he blinks, and the world changes, stars in his eyes and cold in his chest. He reaches for a sword he doesn’t have with an arm he doesn’t have, either, and when he drops to his knees, there’s a sneering face above him, sword at his throat, and he’s falling as they kick him back off the bridge. He claws at the mask on his face, begging it to save him one last time, but it flutters to dust in the air, to ether, and he knows he must be dead, must be, it’s the only way they glow like that -

“Tristan!” calls a voice to his side, and he’s darting up from his desk and whipping his arm out wildly, trying to push away whatever’s trying to hurt him next -

It takes him a long moment to come back to himself. “Vasco?”

He’s got a hand to his nose, and something conspicuously red is dripping from between his fingers. “Ages. This how you greet a friend?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his voice, but it’s smothered by his wince.

“Ages, ages, Vasco, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think-”

He gives a short sort of cut-off laugh, holding his nose pinched between two fingers. “Next time, I’ll let you nap.”

Tristan ushers Vasco to the bed, making him sit and grabbing a cloth from the bedside table to dab at the blood. He inspects it carefully, moving Vasco’s hands away with a huff. It doesn’t look broken, which he’s thankful for - ages. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he’d actually broken Vasco’s nose. Probably feel even more guilty than he already does.

Vasco looks far too bemused by the whole affair. “If I’d known all it took to get your attention was waking you from a nap, I’d have done it more often - even with the danger to my face.” It’s a joke and a question all in one - Tristan can hear the unspoken how often do you wake fighting? in his voice.

Tristan doesn’t answer. He has a feeling it’s far more often than either of them would like.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead, and prepares himself to summon his mascherine. He can at least heal this, his own problems be damned -

- but Vasco rests a hand on his arm, distracting him. “Now now, you’re a hard working man. I won’t begrudge you a nap at your desk - though your bed is barely ten feet away, you know, and much softer than the one they gave me.” He emphasizes by leaning back against the pillows, sighing - and then flinging a hand up with a wince when he jostles his swelling nose with the motion. “Damn,” he grins, and then drops the grin when that, too, exacerbates the injury.

Tristan feels a smile tug at the corners of his lips, but the guilt still writhes in his chest. “I shouldn’t have been sleeping, anyway - I knew you were coming by, and I know how I am when I’m woken.” It’s an answer of a sort to the question Vasco didn’t ask.

Vasco’s face takes on that inscrutable emotion again - Tristan is becoming more familiar with it by the day. He redirects the conversation ever so slightly, which Tristan is grateful for. “Does it look broken, then?”

“No, thankfully. Just bruised.”

“Damn. Maybe a broken nose could enhance my ruggedly good looks - how about you punch it again for good measure?”

“You absolute bastard,” Tristan admonishes. Vasco has a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, and Tristan knows it has to hurt his nose, but he doesn’t even flinch.

Tristan finishes cleaning up Vasco’s face with a deft, practiced hand - most of the waterbrands were taught at least rudimentary first aid, Tristan included, seeing as it’s the element most tuned to healing. He makes to summon his mascherine again, but Vasco shakes his head. “Nah. I think it’ll be fine.”

Tristan thinks of all the times Vasco has seen him struggle with the thing, and realizes Vasco is much kinder than he gives himself credit for.

He’s holding a new cloth to his nose, but now he’s leaned back against the pillows and the headboard. Tristan shutters the thought that he looks good there before it even begins to float around in his head. He just punched the man in the face, not three days after kissing him -

Tristan feels his cheeks heat, and the silence suddenly becomes thick, awkward between them.

“Have you seen the twins recently?” Tristan asks, for lack of things to fill the space. He still hasn’t asked Cicero about them, and mentally kicks himself.

“Nope,” Vasco answers, popping the ‘p’. “Not since our little adventure.” His eyes turn fond, and Tristan feels the distance between them keenly; he remembers it being closed, remembers Vasco’s breath mingling with his own in the night air -

Shame floods him, and he bites it back, shoves it down his throat, swallows it. What had he said? You’ll have to be patient with me. Ages, if he isn’t feeling it now.

Vasco’s face drops into a frown. “Tristan, I don’t - I was under the assumption we were on the same page.”

Tristan is quick to soothe, almost jumping off the bed in his haste. “No! Yes, I mean - we were - are - are on the same page. I just…” He slumps, running a hand through his hair. Oddly, he thinks about how he needs to get it cut, and shunts the thought from his mind to focus on the matter at hand.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen you these past three days. It’s been,” he pauses; he knows his next words might hurt, but they’re the truth: “It’s been easier to not think about what happened, honestly. I don’t want to forget it, but -” He looks at Vasco, pleading. He doesn’t know what he wants; here, in the light of day, it’s harder to face than in the dream-soft haze of night.

Vasco’s lips twist into a frown. “Sorry for pushing you, then. If you’d rather forget-”

“Ages, Vasco, I just told you I didn’t want that!” Tristan lets his irritation seep into his voice. “I just think that maybe it’s - ill-advised at best. Or maybe I’m overreacting! There are barely even Legacies anymore,” and his voice tapers off, finally noticing the hurt look on Vasco’s face.

“So that’s what this is about,” Vasco breathes, and Tristan feels like a fool.

“Yes? No. Maybe. I don’t know!” The fight dies in him, irritation cooling to regret. “Sorry. You don’t - deserve this. I’m-” being a child, being foolish, being an idiot, he wants to finish, but the words die in his throat. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have to be so patient with me.”

Vasco sighs, frown slipping from his lips to something fonder. “You’re an idiot,” he says, and when Tristan nods it makes him laugh; it’s the best sound Tristan’s ever heard, even when he winces and his nose starts bleeding again.

Tristan’s hand is dangerously close to Vasco’s where they lay on the bed, and he debates whether he should take hold of it for far too long - long enough that Vasco notices his internal argument and just grabs his hand himself, pulling him closer on the bed. It’s a little precarious, and Tristan feels like he might fall off any moment now, but he can feel where Vasco’s hip presses against his own, and when Vasco winks up at him and drops the hand holding the cloth, well -

He’s always been weak to a pretty face.

He’s careful of Vasco’s tender nose as he leans forward, pausing just before their lips meet.

“Second thoughts, Valencio?” Vasco says, and there’s something underneath the words that makes Tristan want to wrap his arms around Vasco and never let go.

“Not now,” Tristan says instead, and means it.

The kiss is slow, careful, almost an apology. Vasco reciprocates readily, deepening it with a sigh.Tristan is lost in the sensation of it, Vasco’s hand sliding onto his neck, deft fingers curling into his hair. There’s intent behind the motion, and when Vasco tugs on it ever so slightly as he takes Tristan’s lower lip between his teeth, he gives a sharp inhale.

Vasco lets him breathe a moment - it’s new, here, with just them, nothing outside this room feeling more real than where they press together, Tristan near sitting in Vasco’s lap - and he’s just a touch overwhelmed.

Just a touch, he consoles himself, as Vasco’s nose begins to bleed anew. It prompts a string of curses from the other man, and Tristan laughs.

“You’re the one that gave me this damn problem,” he grumbles, but he can’t quite repress the smile on his lips. “What were you even working on before I arrived, anyway?”

“A report,” Tristan says, then wrinkles his nose. “I’ll probably have to rewrite it. I tend to - drool.”

Vasco laughs, which makes Tristan pout, which makes Vasco kiss him until he stops pouting. It’s a good deal, all things considered.

[upthenorthmountain]

Past Lives WW2: Epilogue

This is a little bit of a follow-up to my second Past Lives story, set during WW2, because I’m incapable of leaving finished stories alone

Happy birthday @flathtrash​!

2 The Cottages

3rd January 1940

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope you had a good Christmas! Mine was small but good, I am still with the Pentwhistles but Christopher came over for Christmas dinner and we went for a walk but it was very cold so we didn't stay out long! And he had to get back to the farm of course. We should be married next week and I can't wait! I know some old ladies have been muttering because we organised everything so quickly, saying we had to get married, but they will be proved wrong so I don't care.

The weather really is bitter. I gave Christopher his new red hat but I have adopted it back again and am working on a new one for him.

Mrs Pentwhistle has very kindly said that I can wear her veil, she had it in a trunk in her spare room, so that is my something borrowed and something old. I will wear my green suit but I just finished sewing a blouse so I will put that to one side as something new. What do I have that's blue?

A bit funny actually as of course we had to go and talk to the vicar about the banns and he asked my parents’ names and Christopher nearly fell off his chair when I said my father’s name was Sir Alfred Rendell. Possibly should have mentioned it earlier. As we were walking back to the farm for tea he started making noises about it but I pointed out that our father had no sons so the baronetcy (did I spell that right?) is done with, and goodness knows there’s no money, so it doesn’t make any odds. All the good it did me was that I had the education to become a teacher to fend off starvation once the estate was settled.

And yes, I’ve told him about Henry. All of it, even the worst part. I thought about keeping it to myself but I didn’t want there to be any secrets (look what happened to Tess - though I escaped her fate thank goodness, more by luck than good judgement. But let’s draw a veil etc and be glad I found a more decent man than Angel Clare, all in the past now and I hope HW gets shot down and tortured) (I don’t really) (maybe a little bit). ANYWAY Christopher said he didn’t mind if he wasn’t the first as long as he was the last and I thought that was very sweet.

He told me some things about his own family too that I think he was worried would put me off but it just made me want to marry him MORE. I was about to write, I’ll tell you it all when I see you, but heaven knows when that will be so I’ll write it to you another time. Right now I have to

-

White Horse Farm

11th January 1940

Elizabeth I'm so sorry, I completely forgot I hadn't finished this letter! I wonder what I had to do. Everything has been so busy with the wedding and moving and getting things sorted out now I am the Lady of the House. Can you believe I'm a married woman? I can't! It all seems unreal. But wonderful.

There were some little blue flowers in my bouquet, I forget what they were called, that was the something blue. And snowdrops which made me think of you, though of course I thought of you anyway. Mr Pentwhistle gave me away, he insisted, bless him, he said I was being married out of his house so it was his job to do.

And I have half-forgiven Miss Hope for the unkind things she said, she had arranged for all my children to come in specially in the afternoons in secret so they could learn a song and they sang it to us outside the church and held up boughs as an arch, well, they were more like sticks but I know boughs was intended! My fault for getting married in January. I am going to carry on at the school, there is no one to replace me if I leave and it still leaves me plenty of time in the day to do, well, all the things I was doing when I lived here before!

Speaking of which I have to go and make dinner for my husband (!!)

Your loving sister,

Anna Beaumont (Mrs)

PS Though Miss Hope did say today, about me staying on at the school, that of course I would have to stop when I had a family to think about, and I said cheerfully  ‘oh that won’t be for a year or two I imagine’ because of course she is expecting me to have a baby within the next 6 months and I won’t, and Miss Fawcett was laughing behind her hand, it was so funny

PPS Miss Fawcett is the other teacher she’s ever so nice

[52ciab-blog]

bacardi and cola with taxis, scott richard 2004

the beauty of old friends….

PRESS PLAY

faith ft. Mr. Probz galantis & dolly parton

and now an essay on why america needs to debunk itself from anti-american AMERICAN racist USURERS & "color coding" racism ….

***********************

recently i was laid into by an unsolicited critic. but you know me, i lap that stuff up like delicious poison!!!!

the most delighting part in all of this criticism was when the phrase LETHAL ACTIVISM was levied against me. as if i’ve ever harmed anyone or my intentions on here are to harm others!!!! i know it was levied unfairly because i know the critic. and the critic was hurt. so it was more of a personal attack designed to hurt me back for being honest.

but, for the record, my battle is against USURY. and the spirit of USURY is not a person.

this is a lifetime struggle against an invisible demon which has been infecting the human people since long before its earliest recordings/sightings/mentionings (it is first recognized and named in the INDIAN text the Mahabharata).

USURY is a destructive LIVING FORCE that infects humans just like AIDS did (yep, the lap dogs of USURY did that, too). Usury, as a spiritual force manifests as a mental disease that leads the victim of the disease to believe that they are better than other human and non-human life forms and can enact schemes of power and control over those other humans and other life forms in taking by force the CONTROL of their reproduction cycles and sexual habits.

it is the equivalent of BESTIALITY. and many people are so delusional that they think bestiality is people fking animals. this is simply NOT TRUE.

BESTIALITY is when you (as a human force) take over the reproduction and sex rights of other species and imprison them for practical purposes.

it is an ancient prohibition because of how it leads to social disorder by OBVIOUSLY favoring those who would abuse the spirit of life to gain sht. THINK RWANDA, duh!? it was a cow blood war started by belgian setups of economic disparity and favoritism. they used animal husbandry to divide the two populations.

and i call these sideline instigators the FOOD AND BEVERAGE cartels (F&B cartels). you’re welcome.

and BESTIALITY is a natural physical deformation of the spirit of USURY when it acquires henchmen like the F&B cartels. so is SLAVERY. and pharmaceutical drug addiction.

but back to LETHAL ACTIVISM…

as INACCURATE AND UNKIND as this attack on my personhood is — i am not this stream, i am not this essay, i have written over 1300 hundred essays and they are in the group THINK CLUB if you dare to want to know/piece together more of who you think i am. good luck keeping up, i have chased after the great spirits for decades without resting — and added to it that i practice GENTILITY and DISTANCE from other humans.

i will also protect other people’s children from harm. sometimes i will also protect others, but it might also look to some like i’m doing it as an attack against the aggressor, but those people with that view generally think more slowly AND do little in any time of REAL crisis.

they are flighters. the cowards among our species. ironically, these are the same cowards who later call us heroes for just doing the VERY ORDINARY THING. their award is just more shame on people who don’t run away.

so perhaps my critic was really expressing a fear of the nearness of LETHAL ACTIVISM in our societies? perhaps the HUMAN SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE has had enough of this INFECTION of USURY in the elites of human society?

perhaps my critic is realizing for themself that the spiritual world is once again calling upon ALL OF US through "fate and destiny" (geopolitical locationing) to rise up against the weight of this construct. but my critic doesn’t even realize time has weight!!??!? pity the sciences and maths which could leave something so basic off the menu!!!

perhaps this critic has identified a rising spirit and sees in me a harbinger of this ENERGY. fair play.

but if my words could KILL, i would say this to my critic,

"i hope you live forever!! i hope my love for you stays inside your heart and keeps you company throughout the ages!! i hope you weren’t lying about love like you are lying about most things in your life. I didn’t even want you to be free. I just wanted to have fun. WTF, playboy!!!!"

and perhaps my critic now knows that there is a greater magic than the feeble white man’s sciences of falsely identified and defined numbers, of falsely applied logics of math without philosophical support — sorry, kids, stories ALWAYS come before numbers. always have, always will. and science is just a wee little story based on astrology which converted into astronomy with the astrolabes of discovery, and then slowly headed into a collective concept that eventual gave birth to physics as the role of the "real" star interpreter took on precedence in the courts of europe. and china. and india. because there are many cultural responses to the idea of the sky and the idea of stars and the idea of rotational charting and map making. i know, it was all just for FUN right from the start [wink wink, glad the lore of the young and all the unknown lovers could chime in on all the personal criticism. ah, how disgusting and messy polyamory gets, it just never ends…].

but SERIOUSLY, it was just for fun. it still is!

the innocence of someone looking up in the sky and thinking, "there’s that ONE light again! and LOOK! the other!!!"

but this isn’t magic. it is correlation. it’s us seeing something and going, "hey, look at that!" and then agreeing, "I SEE IT, I SEE IT, WE SEE IT". and the WE is born of this endeavor.

obviously, real magic can take place when you conjoin these correlations.

in my life real magic is grafted directly from circumstance and variables and available energy. and it is directed through the voice or the imaginative voice of the spell caster. everyone sort of already knows this. we’ve been told all about it since we were children.

for example, how many "astronauts", the children of those early astrological wanderings, have actually "touched" the surface of anything NOT human made but out of the orbit? [he falls over laughing, but all the gold bars wasted and laundered through fake space programs have piled up so high above his head that he can only see glittering skyscrapers] www.flickr.com/photos/gazeronly/albums/72157650835706423

we are fking funny!!! and now, how much FAKE money has been dumped into the lavish lifestyles of those employed and funded by this expansive waste of money?

this is not magic.

so to my critic, perhaps there should be some gratitude that those like me who touch these powers are kind to our critics? perhaps it would behoove said critic to acknowledge that their narcissism is not the source of my inquiries and does not direct my willingness to accept answers. i am not magical in order to entertain narcissists. that’s what hollywood is for anyway. and "court magicians". that is SLEIGHT OF HAND, which is USURY, not magic.

so what do they know of love? they still use it like a back hoe and everyone who wants a job sucks dck to get it. if you have bad knees or they get tender fast from kneeling, buy knee pads, cckskr. [and that’s a compliment if you do it well. you’ll get the job cuz anyone can act.]

so please, let me state for ALL PUBLIC RECORD that i am not a LETHAL ACTIVIST. in fact, i’d never even heard of it before.

i am a cultural activist and i fight for the spirit of humanity and the preservation of those gifts which manifest themselves as forms in our lives — community, identity, stability.

i fight against usury and those who debt-enslave others, sell weapons to kill children and their parents, sell drugs to kill the caretakers of children, and those who traffic humans or fk kids (whether by economic coercion or actual action) — so BOO HOO HOO. sue me!

or educate yourself. but please, lethal activism??!! that’s just mean. and i can shrug that one off. i get it, you’re hurt.

but more importantly, there was a startling book written and released in russia (allegedly) back at the turn of the 20th century. it’s a short handbook that describes in realistic and profoundly brutal terms the manner in which a TINY group of CLAIMED ELITES can take over and enslave the masses, which are LESS HUMAN than these elites.

and while it is TRUE that the book was purportedly foisted onto a group called the LEARNED ELDERS (the kingship of jews, actually, because apparently it’s more complicated than people want to believe…) who were apparently attempting to destabilize the governments/aristocracies/oligarchs of western europe. i mean, anti-semitism was a GD section in the book stores in russia and germany and other "nation states" of the day. and apparently it was a huge section. and if you know me, i’ve been trying my best to get people to understand that the UNITED STATES is literally MANUFACTURING its own breed of anti-semitism on television and streaming. shows like AMERICAN DAD, which have had top ratings for years, are disgustingly ladened with all manner of jokes and put-downs and weird sideways. (yes, i wrote an essay about that, too, seven years ago…)

www.flickr.com/photos/gazeronly/6931096786

this is often INVERSE DUMPING. if you watched the video you’ll know what i’m talking about, as MATT WEITZMAN’s role in all of this is totally suspect:

"Matt Weitzman was born to a Jewish family[2] in Los Angeles, California. His father is Lew Weitzman, a long time literary agent for over 40 years. Matt attended American University, where he became and brother of Alpha Epsilon Pi,[3] and graduated with a communications degree. Shortly after college, he pursued acting with some success, then later began writing for television sitcoms. As a child, Weitzman was an avid comic book collector and reader of fantasy and science fiction. This is what he has called "inspiration" for upcoming projects." wiki

if you read my work, you know that i know all about the super hero creation market and who started it and how it’s literally a LOSER’S spirit buried in skin tight homosexual man worship. but you can do some of your GD research about history because darnit, there’s so much of it to swallow. let’s just say that people who are genocided (this includes homosexuals) definitely dream of striking back against their "oppressors".

and super heroes are the capitalized/capitalistic version of the pantheon gods of the ancient world.

the primary difference is that super heroes work for the highest human agencies of government control so you can see how this fantasy framework immediately instigates conspiracy and dread-laced confectionaries of BETRAYAL, DECEPTION, LIES AND MURDER. super heroes are embedded in contemporary politics, whereas the ancient "gods" are fantastical and have been relegated to olive leaves and togas. i hope this makes sense. anyway, if you read the PROTOCOLS, again, you don’t need to hear the messenger!!!!

the comic book industry is insidious and mentally deformational on young people’s minds. it is a vulgarity and glamorized FAKE body types (historically) to gain market claims before becoming powerful enough to overtake alternate markets in foreign lands. after being blown to bits in wwii, manga took off like mad in japan: " Since the 1950s, manga has steadily become a major part of the Japanese publishing industry.[7] By 1995, the manga market in Japan was valued at ¥586.4 billion ($6–7 billion),[8] with annual sales of 1.9 billion manga books and manga magazines in Japan (equivalent to 15 issues per person).[9] Manga have also gained a significant worldwide audience.[10] In 2008, in the U.S. and Canada, the manga market was valued at $175 million. Manga represent 38% of the French comics market, which is equivalent to approximately ten times that of the United States.[11] In France, the manga market was valued at about €460 million ($569 million) in 2005.[12] In Europe and the Middle East, the market was valued at $250 million in 2012.[13]" wiki

we could talk a long time about the after effects of being holocausted or target hunted, but let’s get back to the PROTOCOLS!!!!

and again, who cares who wrote this book??!?!

it was written and it’s been around long enough to have been read by all humans who can read. so READ IT!!!! (then you can listen to the 27hours of information released by the u.s. governement on the four decade collusion that led to the manufacturing of 9/11. IT’S CALLED A COMMISSION REPORT in case one doesn’t already know that the U.S. released a very weird and disturbing BODY OF TEXT to the world. perhaps if YOU read it, you’d know more, too. at least you’d be able to see the amazing LIES that this nation’s government TELLS and gets CAUGHT telling and then TELLS more and gets CAUGHT telling and then TELLS more…)

anyway, who cares? i mean, let’s be liberal and BLAME all men, because FK it was a MAN who wrote the book after all. EVERYONE can agree that it was NOT written by a woman. that much is true!!!

but instead, "they" want you to believe and focus on the jewish part of authorship. and you will see this in the introduction of the book. because it’s old enough to be an antique, the book has acquired its own sense of history.

but AGAIN, i’m a gnostic. i don’t care if it is about to be written and released tomorrow for the first time ever, i think you should read it!!

it is the INFORMATION AND STRATEGIES inside the book that are so valuable.

just like every girl should STEAL the book THE GAME from somewhere and read it so she can know what SHTTY men are out there and also what shtty girlfriends do to each other.

and again, i am not the one on the cover of this SHTTY DATE RAPE HANDBOOK FOR MEN that is saying i’m of "jewish" descent. he does that himself, but again, i hope my FKING hating his book and the tricks he has gathered and compiled from america’s rich history of DATE RAPE ARTISTS doesn’t make me the bad guy. and i’m certainly not going to look at all the awesome people that i know of personally and throughout the world who call themselves jewish and think, hmmm, they’re all date rapists!!!! nope, just him. and harvey weinstein. and what do we call people who go to date rapes on purpose more than once? are they victimizing the date rapist? i get so confused when there is such a moral sexual breakdown in breeder semantics. if you have to give hed to get ahed, how many times do you have to give hed and STAY AHED?

like am i supposed to hate catholics because machiavelli wrote a political treatise on how the medici’s could do the same thing to their own people — fiscally date rape and murder their peers? rather, you should hate the catholic state for its actions and historical thuggery and it’s sexual violations against thousands and thousands of boys. that would make a lot more sense instead of putting it on the dupes who fall for such drivel. and i’m so distrustful i’m like, "what is the vatican hiding that they are willing to use PEDOPHILIA as a distraction?!?!" HLY FK!!!! how come we never go for real answers?!?!"

but isn’t that how REVERSE DUMPING works?

just ask MALCOM X!!!!! here’s a quote you can look at: ""the F.B.I. can feed information to the press that makes your neighbor think you are something subversive. the F.B.I. can do this very skillfully. they maneuver the press on a national scale and the C.I.A. maneuvers the press on an international scale" 1964

and let’s be honest, that was 55 fking years ago!!!! do you not think that the information societies that play nation states like checker pieces haven’t become paranormous?

when/if you get to the FACEBOOK essay down below, you’ll see this more clearly and you will understand how it’s a TRILLIONAIRE’s front who is using SCHOOLS and their products — including zuckerberg’s whole life (he’s being "hannah montana-ed©"!!!) — as fronts to generate dominant world control of new surveillance technology and ALL of its advancements.

so you do know malcom got reversed dumped, right!?!?! you DO at least know that, right? and you do know that whenever black men of power rise they are beaten down with the myriad temptations of the USURERs CLUB (drugs, sex, power, alcohol, attention). and if that doesn’t work, assassination.

that’s hardcore REVERSE DUMPING. whites usually don’t end up getting the bullet, poor Vincent foster…

but in our real world, in our daily lives, SOFTCORE reverse dumping happens when you tell someone honestly that they have a problem and then suddenly they try to reduce your world to ruins simply because you objected to THEIR DISHONESTY or TREACHERY or UNKINDNESS or ECONOMIC SLANDERING. suddenly, for saying, "hey!! you’re lying to me!!!" i am the LETHAL ACTIVIST? "hey! you’re giving people AIDS!! and i’m the LETHAL ACTIVIST? and worse, somehow giving people AIDS on purpose is better than FIGHTING BACK? better than letting them do it again to a new target group? really?

but it’s true. if you say anything about this book, you are probably going to be labeled anti-semitic.

but for me, that’s the LIE. i have hung out with way too many cool people that i admired and respected and adored and have also been HIGHLY influenced by to care about their JEWISHNESS. more often than not, i wasn’t even concerned with their "jewishness". if they wanted to share their ideas and what this "meant" to them, they would. not unlike gays who must constantly come out of the closet so that people don’t accidentally say something irrevocably hateful because they couldn’t tell the person was gay because they weren’t having sex in front of them and there were no other visual clues.

as a homo, i resent people who would take an entire ethnicity or culture or way of being and say EVERYONE in this "fake group" is

a: in agreement with each other b: the same c: so easily reducible

these are things STUPID (by choice) and IGNORANT (disengagement and self-interested) people share — judging LITERAL groups that have been intellectually arranged on very BARE and SEPARATIZING notions is PRIMARY BULLSHT. and the USURERS love this because it deflects from the FACT that they are a REAL GROUP in their "servitude" to the demonic forces of USURY. read plato if you need to understand some of things socrates was railing on against.

so USURY forces us to talk about these FAKE CLUSTERS or SHARDS as if they are real and have a genuine existence. they don’t, they’re just like everything else — they are proximity ideas that will die and pass away. there is a historylessness to most of us.

as a result these dynamics are all constructs of fate and birth. you happen to be colombian, you happen to be vietnamese, you happen to be [insert something here], cuz you’re just a gosh dern human at the beginning and the end.

they are all mutable and they all come with their own seeds of separation and distinction. they all create their own INTERIOR hierarchies where they enact the same

all that aside, the truth is that this book is FKNG amazing. and you’d know if you read it. it’s BRILLIANT and the game is on.

it is a playbook for raping the little people who don’t matter. it’s where the original idea of a MASTER CARD comes from, for fks sake!!!!! it is the birth of the credit system we fking use everywhere these days!!!!

but i guess most of you don’t realize that our dear president in the 1920s read this short work of political theory. that alone should give you cause to go and read it just to see how useful this information is and how much of it is CURRRENTLY IN USE and how easily it would be to dismantle this strangulation if more people would educate themselves instead of fking around indulging in their side lives of debauchery and social mayhem, lol. but those are the treats of the USURER!!

take more loans!! live beyond your means!!!!

and now that we are again in a period where ANTI-SEMETISM is being blatantly and openly promoted by ECONOMICALLY PRONGED SEMITES (why is it so cool to throw your own people in front of the bus for your cause? who told you that was legit politics? — seriously, look at the producers of almost any television show. you will immediately start to see a trend that is alarming — as if anyone is still even reading this essay. but if you are an american who was of asian descent you might notice the clear absence of your ethnicity on television and in television production roles. but china and japan and many other countries in those regions have their own ENTERTAINMENT CARTELS in full-swing, too. but in "america" you have to admit really fast that NPR and other outlets of alleged news are stocked and renewed with a fk lot of people who also identify with minority groups that have been historically punished throughout centuries for running USURY GAMES on the "humans" they deemed less worthy.

and you should be able to figure out that i’m not talking about homos. but you can do your research instead of lambasting me for referring to the idea that there are ACTUAL DATA POINTS worth noting. after all, isn’t the OLD TESTAMENT the most anti-semitic book ever written? i’ve read it. it’s a history of shtty people who never got along with anybody and it always ends in genocide and slavery. i’m fking literate!!!! i didn’t write that GD book!! i just read it. it’s fking anti-semitic.

so if you are curious instead of a KNEE-JERK, read the protocols and you will find out that i’m not SAYING ANYTHING, i’m just the messenger alerting LAZY FKRS that sht is going on and has been in process for over a century. it’s NOT new.

further, i’m just the guy who got jumped by the side of the road and there was no good samaritan to assist me.

but, i survived. and now, i know how to spot the robbers. i’ve been jumped endlessly since then. i learned from camille paglia that einstein was wrong.

repeating the same act over and over again actually does eventually lead to breakthrough depending on who is performing the experiment. WE are the magical element in science!!!! it’s OUR imagination that gives science life, not the other way around.

and, unlucky for me, my "self constructs" have been shattered so many times that i no longer perceive information the way i did when i could hide behind those constructs. i’ve been lied to and cheated on in every imaginable way. i scare the SHT out of people with how quickly i unravel all their hateful lies in person. people are scared to be around me because i can "see" their sins and write them in the sand — they become terrified of my experience.

alternately, only by accident, have i lied and cheated. and when i do, i grovel back and apologize and i take it on myself to acknowledge my awfulness. and i don’t PRETEND that i deserve forgiveness.

lucky for me, this is very rare and usually under strange and weirdly unimportant circumstantial moments when the character or nature of another being alters my balance. that is to say, i remember almost every lie i’ve ever told and how it hurt the person or aided me to my "advantage".

and i didn’t like myself as a liar. i have a good memory and i don’t practice denial. it is not the gnostic way. denial does not lead to KNOWING. i don’t want to be with a lover or a friend and know that i lie to them or told them a lie. i find that so uncomfortable and disgusting and faithless.

lying is humanity’s greatest toy. and people play with it constantly. and then they are old and feel stupid about how they spent their lives. yay!

research can lead you to a different outcome. and if you take the time to read this political tract, you won’t need me to explain anything to you.

instead you will read the words which are well over one hundred years old at this point. and who cares about its origin or anti-semitism?!??! study the ACTUAL CONTENT. it is like a book of magic spells (barely, magic is so much cooler). learn to see that to this fking day people use ANTI-SEMITISM to keep you from reading the book. they don’t want you to know about it. they want you to ignore this book. and THEY are white, yellow, blue, green and red, for all you COLOR CODED RACISTS who think people are GD colors!!!! THEY are the oligarchs and secret emperors who control the drug trade, the weapons disbursement programs and the natural resource allotments for "nation states" — the USURERS’ favorite little pet projects and "clients".

if you take time to read this tract (it’s only about 100 pages), the realizations will also help elucidate a lot of things about the history of HUMANS who have actively used these techniques to undermine cultures and societies wherever they go. they are information collectors and litigators. these are their tools to bind.

but first, to give you some boundaries on this, i will use myself as an example.

let’s make it personal for just one second…

as a HOMOSEXUAL who was tortured as a four year old child and had my penis raped with a steel object by a white male doctor in his thirties under the auspices of something medical — no one will tell me to this day what the reason was for doing this to two little boys, two pretty decent little twins — i have spent my life being degraded and humiliated by other people for not running away from the horror that overtook my life.

for example, even before i thought i was gay my father completely disowned me for "having a negative reaction" to being raped in the dck. he came home and found two crazy kids instead of the fun ones he’d maybe seen the day before. he told me very directly when i was 28 that he had come home one day when i was about four and i was a "cold, aloof and a distant prick." those were his exact words. and this was before i knew what had happened. and i said, that sounds like child abuse! he said, "i figured if you wanted to be that way, i could be that way, too." and he never talked to me or touched me again. and i mean LITERALLY. in speech he shifted over to using only the objective command form of language from then on. it was very isolating, but i was terrified of him anyway since he used corporal punishment in the same way male hookers in hollywood use cocaine — liberally when available!!!!

anyway, i didn’t find out till age seven that "fag" and "fairy" and "queer" somehow vaguely applied to me like a death sentence… san diego was very homophobic and murderous and one of the pilot cities where the idea of a "hate crime" was born to separate HUMAN HUNTERS from ordinary murderers…

so as a child i was terrified of going into a bath room with other men/males after this episode. and this meant ALL public bathrooms.

i was literally terrified that i would be brutalized again. every time i had to urinate and was out in the world, i became desperately afraid that if i went into the bathroom and couldn’t lock everyone out, i would be raped again. that’s how four year olds perceive the world. once raped, ten times shy.

and the horror of this was with me constantly. weirdly, i had no memories of the incident. it had shattered my mind, my being, everything about me.

i only "know" it happened because I demanded to know at least the dates when it became clear that it had actually happened (there were two follow up visits to the damage). my twin brother never forgot it. somehow, his mind stayed in tact during the episode. during my childhood he would frequently bring up the event but he was just four years old as well. all he could actually remember was the book he was reading in the waiting room before it happened. and weirdly, i, too, remember the entire book that i was reading.

and sadly, he hated me for not remembering. all i remember is that he kept saying something about a farm bird ( a red rooster) over and over again asking me if i remembered. but i had no idea what it meant. finally, when i was 38 he actually told me. he had no idea that i had no memories and he thought i was colluding against him all these years.

his book was about a red rooster. my book was about a little red hen, which is also the title of the book. the little red hen wants to make bread but also wants company during the process and seeks that instead of making bread. finally, in desperation, the little animal gives up and goes out to do ALL the tasks to make bread. then, the bitter pill at the end, the smell of the baking bread brings ALL the other animals that were asked for help. they all want baked bread!!!! heheheh.

then the doctor stuck a sounding device (metal rod) up our dicks. i don’t remember that part.

so yes, scott has shame!!!! i can’t remember. it sits on top of me like a desperate crime committed by someone else.

forgive me if i want to make sure that this stuff doesn’t happen to other children while their mother is in the waiting room. forgive me if i don’t trust doctors and lawyers and mortgage brokers and bankers. forgive me if i know their dark side.

i guess that’s why i am a "living sign" of this shame. so be it. i will be brave. i can withstand the shame of others. besides, it is PERSONAL shame that i have no room for in my life — the shame one lavishes up for oneself — a shame that has come from within instead of from without. a shame that sickens the GOD within and ails its arrival. this is the shame of INTENTIONAL DECEPTION and TRICKERY.

at least my shame has been given to me by society.

it’s not mine, which is why i can use it in magic. and it’s surprisingly powerful. and most people know this, because there is so much shame in these essays i write. it’s almost unbearable, which is why so few readers make it to the end of any of them. again, this is intentional.

i don’t want all of you to suffer. just those of you who have the courage to stare into the horror without flinching. just those of you who are actually brave enough to become REALIZED.

so my magic of shame erodes and undermines everyone who reads these essays all the way through to the end. and these few readers are the only audience i care about. because they are agents of change. they can taste the poison and find the cure. it is our task!!! and they know it, too.

like me, they have made it their goal to make sure that people who think this kind of behavior is “okay” are taken out of positions of power. and i use these essays that i write to plant seeds and to allow others to see their voice in another, because i KNOW i’m not alone.

when PHILOMEL’s tongue was ripped from her throat, the gods made a new bird that could sing that shameful crime of the king who raped her and then tried to silence her by stealing her voice.

i don’t write these essays because i think ANYONE reads them and goes, “right on!! i’m hitting the fave button!!!"

i write these essays and do the research so that those whose voices are being ripped away can use their new wings to be more than a bird song. so few, these birds who will now fly and sing!

in fact, i don’t imagine most people make it to the end of any of these “essays”. it’s a MACHINE GUN MASSACRE form of writing that INTENTIONALLY only speaks to one or two people who WILL make changes. the INFORMATION will change them — it will not be me, it will not be my personality and it will not be my writing “style”. it will be the idea of the truths that reach into their hearts. and the truth hurts all the time. but even if it doesn’t set you free, it liberates you from LYING!!!! and the lying must stop.

so, as an open HOMOSEXUAL (though it could be easily argued that sexual abuse caused a major deviation), i’ve been clustered grouped my whole life with a stunning array of MEN who are also drawn into the actions of sex with other men. and even in our tiny percentage of ABNORMALITY, there are stand-outs. and these stands out are traditionally distinguished separately.

these stand-outs were called FAGS and TRANNIES and LADY MEN and QUEENS. these are the homosexuals who have serious disagreements with normalized “GENDER ISSUES”.

they are also the most ANTI-MALE of the homosexual community and often dipped/drenched in STEALTH AND TRICKERY AND DECEPTION as a means of counter-balancing the wretchedness of interior feelings and the way the outside society has responded/treated/abused them as people.

they are notably, an attention-deficient group of people who are deeply damaged and wounded from an early age for being different and expressing that difference. the negative treatment reiterates the behavior and more often than not practicers of this type of homosexuality are drawn to the whoredom of the female sexual personae — they end up enacting the slutty side of female sex behavior.

this in turns creates a repulsion in the normalized community — holy sht, a man-woman slut that is parading full-speed and lecherously commanding the attention of everyone or anyone around them.

but isn’t this just the succubus? this isn’t really a homosexual thing as much as it is a social deviation away from the norms that repress and punish homosexuality. the desire to be butterfly attractive is a REACTIONARY stance. it’s not generative and creative. it’s a deviation and a lash-back. it’s a way of vamping. and this same horror is being practiced in the emerging "trans" community. using THEY and THEM to separately disassociate from those who came before is a sign of grammatical desperation. US and WE would be the right choice and the trans community, by allowing the MEDIA to take THEMS over, are being used in the exact same way homos were used — to POLARIZE the majority which makes it easier for banks to weasel into people’s lives with cheap loans and get people to vote for gigantic tax breaks for corporations. but i get it, most of you are TREE PEOPLE and you don’t know you live in a forest. well, not until there’s a fire or the tree cutters show up…

so let’s be serous, having DRAG QUEENS and limp-wristed female copyists representing a community of men who are mostly MARRIED FATHERS is pretty fkt up. right?

because how does that seem like a mature or realized way of embracing the circumstances — that we aren’t allowed to be who we are.

it’s a "DRAG up". it’s dressing like royalty when you’re a pauper. it’s a halloween night that everyone wants to forget later.

in the meantime, the vast majority of homosexuals remain invisible out of fear of being lumped together with the strange HARVEY MILK FREAKS that keep getting chosen to reflect the community.

and the media has been using this polarizing effect to control voting in the united states for the past ten years. the fake front that controls the media now pits homosexuals against others. it pits cops against fking crazy criminals. it promotes car crashes as news. it tracks weather mods and pretends that it’s actually REAL weather instead of manipulated fkery (to this day it is so strange to me that there aren’t classes being taught about this stuff). and it ALWAYS supports tourism unless the intended country is being sanctioned by the invisible front. then they run bad ads.

and i don’t know why all of you don’t know this already. malcom x was pretty clear about it and was even killed for being so clear about it: that is, and I QUOTE

and our human society is super pissed off at the idea of a polygendered society. this is not the USURER’s dream. polygenderism does not put bi-polar gender PARENTING at the forefront of all life. and this would devastate the USURERS. because if PARENTS are the focus of CHILDREN, then the parents become natural "marks" for taking LOANS.

you can loan money to people who need/are told to want stuff for their kids. you can TRAP THEM INTO DEBT SLAVERY very easily by making the ownership of HOMES and CARS and EDUCATION priorities of the capitalistic construct. forget food, clean air and water. those debts will come after these other debts destroy the vast resources of air, water and food. the INTENTIONAL famine is being constructed so fast right now in the city with UBER EATS and AMAZON food delivery. perhaps you need to go back and read that little story in the bible where JOSEPH, while sleeping with the pharoah’s wife, tells the pharaoh that if he really wants to be a great pharaoh all he has to do is create the illusion of prosperity for seven years and then follow it with seven years of mayhem and famine. in this manner, the pharaoh could take over all of his lesser sub-servants’ territories through economic strangulation on the food and water.

but let’s be HONEST!!!!

GENDER ISN’T SEX. so these gender benders NEVER really represented the homosexual community anyway. nor did HARVEY MILK, though now there is a concentrated effort to make him the FACE OF THE "GAY MOVEMENT". ah, how fking sick are we?!?!? harvey milk was the ultimate HOMOPHOBE. just read his history!!!! he preyed on desperate young men, NYC lawyers thought he was scum (arrogant, haughty and a ditch) and we all know what scum 85% of NYC lawyers are… or just lawyers in general, i shouldn’t specifically lay into manhattan fks like our dumptruck fake president.

so back to the story — HOMOSEXUALITY is just SEX WITH MEN BETWEEN MEN. it’s not about relationshipping. that’s GAY stuff. gays are the men and women who are brave enough to simply NOT CARE about the societies in which they exist and choose to be open about their desire to RELATE with their own sex. and this makes a community of sorts. it brings like toward like and cretes "ghettos".

but remember this: BRAVERY is the one thing that almost all humans admire about our collectively shared spirit.

NONETHELESS, as a homosexual man, having a flaming flirtatious, narcissistic sht like HARVEY MILK representing the “gay community” is a fking farce. it’s the WORST example that could be chosen. but harvey milk belongs to the AD MACHINE in fake jewish hollywood. however, AGAIN!!!! if you read about his life ONLY a little bit, you will see what a loser he was and that he actually DID NOTHING while he was in political office (a mere ten months before an angry fellow employee iced him!!!).

in fact, all harvey milk did was get elected. is that HEROIC?

instead, he just pissed an irish catholic white man named dan white off and dan shot his sorry ass for fun, so kicking off the TWINKIE TRIALS where "sugar" was the culprit.

is that heroic? is that a hero? he literally was so shtty that he was shot incidentally. but don’t forget, he also aided and abetted in the suicide of one of his desperate young fk buddies that he preyed upon. the guy was a mess. he embezzled and used people like toilet paper. seriously, you can look this all up.

and if harvey isn’t enough of a reflection of this strange absurdity, we have HERCALES as our example of a greek hero. and what a silly life he lived! he ended up being killed with centaur blood because his wife just wanted him to be faithful. Νέσσος had the last laugh in the end because he knew his blood would kill heracles and that this was the joke — a dead hero can’t be faithless. get it?!!??

and for the record, i’m going to list the VERBS that are attached to each one of Heracles 12 feats (sometimes called labors), which oddly read like a new drinking party game called STEAL, CAPTURE, SLAY:

SLAY SLAY CAPTURE CAPTURE CLEAN SLAY CAPTURE STEAL OBTAIN OBTAIN STEAL CAPTURE cerberus "Heracles says that, although Eurystheus commanded him to bring back Cerberus, it was not from any desire to see Cerberus, but only because Eurystheus thought that the task was impossible." hahahaha, poor cerberus — a three-headed barking dog tooled to the end.

so let’s be real now, is this a “HERO” according to the histories that we keep. these are the actions and accomplishments of a "hero"?

HERACLES’ FEATS, which you can see by the verbs, are pretty straightforward — SLAY, CAPTURE, STEAL, OBTAIN and one menial labor of cleaning out horse stables…

well darn, so much for heroes. especially now when people refer to common soldiers as heroes instead of corporate thug-pawns protecting non-national oligarchical interests in faraway lands at the expense of actual HUMANS.

nothing new there, right? no wonder people made up a CHRIST to try to sort through the FK and KILL schemes of the human condition.

anyway, my point is that when you allow a BAD ROLE MODEL to represent an entire community, it allows bigger communities to PERSECUTE AND TERRORIZE the entire subset community.

AIDS for example was used to terrorize ALL homosexual men. its purpose was LITERALLY to free up the uranium 235 that gets converted “upwards” to uranium 238. so if the african people were enmeshed in a variety of health/life crises they wouldn’t be able to stand up to the western powers and take “control” of the “resource” that was under the land they lived on doing nothing for them.

so voila! — a disease starts in africa with ORAL VACCINES distributed by the JONAS SALK institute. this disease found its way into the gay community quickly due to the nature of sex practices or some other dastardly design — there is a patient O (as in OH, not ZERO). in this case it stood for "out of california, because the was no actual patient zero, AIDS broke out in several places simulatneously in the united states (and remember the first wave of AIDS had an incubation period where you could go over a decade without showing any symptoms.)

"Gaëtan Dugas (French: [ɡaetɑ̃ dyɡa]; February 20, 1953 – March 30, 1984), a Canadian flight attendant, was a relatively early HIV patient who once was widely regarded as "Patient Zero" or the primary case for AIDS in the United States. "

and we don’t need to argue about who it was at the institute who tainted the vaccines. they did. that’s all you need to know. it was intentional.

and recently, i brushed up against a worker who is in the WAR PROMOTION industry that keeps this nation fat and rich and over-medicated. i heard what i already know — there is a cone of information silence at every level as you ascend. the higher you rise, the dirtier you get. this man, for example, produced a working model for the exact point at which a toxic agent will collapse your breathing tissues in your throat. it is a bio-mechanical “model” which is now used to identify the amounts of any of these toxic agents you need to dump on a population to get the results you want. oddly, he doesn’t take any responsibility for this work or the way in which the work is used around the world now and SOLD to other governments and information societies.

so this CONE OF SILENCE methodology is exactly what allows 99.99999% of the good/stupid people to feel fine about the shtty things they are doing and creating while the .00000001% adds the TAINTED POISONS and TOXINS at the last second.

and, as i was saying earlier, that’s what this book THE PROTOCOLS of the LEARNED ELDERS of ZION is about — how to become the .000000001% and subdue the majority. and who cares whether russian anti-semites wrotes it? does that change the EDUCATIONAL VALUE of the CONTENT INFORMATION? or is that just there to keep people from reading it? ANYONE can use the information, for example, duh!!!! ANYONE.

i mean do people listen to pop songs sung by women about getting nasty and dirty and sexual and think, HEY, A MAN WROTE THAT!!!! they should. 99% of weird love songs from the seventies in the world of disco — which brought us cocaine, tight pants and a general hedonistic sense of ennui — are written and arranged by men.

songs like "so many men, so little time" which proudly make all manner of boisterous claims to female sexuality are just fkt up lies written by men hiding behind their human props. but people don’t think that, they think, "YO! that woman wants to be fkt!" but it was really IAN LEVINE.

so we need to ask ourselves, did this fear of anti-semitism, for example, stop WHITE WESTERN OLIGARCHS from benefitting from the strategies presented? and why wouldn’t ANYBODY in china also read this text to gain a superiority over their enemy? why wouldn’t anyone who was infected with the taint of USURY not find this effective?

people in the U.S. study the book THE ART OF WAR, which is hilarious, as there is no such “art”. art has no FKING PURPOSE that kills people. it is the EXACT OPPOSITE OF ART. it should be called the "FKERY OF WAR and how to win". that would be more direct.

but i don’t hear everyone getting all up in china’s business and calling the nation a bunch of euphemistic hate slurs about murder and warfare. and rightfully so, it’s just a book and most people don’t care about books.

so if i get all up in the business of the PEOPLE who are using the book to murder and squelch the human spirit around the world, please don’t call me anti-semitic. and if i write essays about how parents are the very worst thing about children, please don’t call me anti-breeder. oh, wait, no, please do!!! i’m definitely upset with the way you people breed and then abandon your children.

and a note to all of you who think cheating is only an issue between you and your husband or you and your wife, maybe you should wake up to the fact that you’re cheating on your children almost more than your spouse. worse, your cheating will alter the entire development of your children whether they know it or not. the SICKNESS of your dishonesty will fester its way into the very essence of their personalities. and this is the sin that is spoken of that passes from “father to child”.

when jesus did his showdown with the men who were about to murder a woman for fcking around with other men against her husband, we are told that jesus started drawing nasty pictures in the dirt of the men and the fkt up stuff that they had done. one by one as the pictures emerged, the men judged themselves on what they saw and left.

and here’s where christians FK the story up as usual. they claim that JESUS forgave the woman. but this is not true. JESUS did not forgive the woman. instead he said the very worst thing you could possibly say — literally the most deviant thing of all to commission a human with — he said GO AND SIN NO MORE.

and to this day, when people ask me to forgive them, and i’m feeling generous, that’s what i say.

GO AND SIN NO MORE!!!!

why do i care about your sins against me? i haven’t held onto them. i have no forgiveness for anyone. i am not a christian. i am not weak and pathetic. i do not need salvation and i am not a sinner.

i am a gnostic. we do our best to NEVER lie to ourselves or others. we do our best to NEVER do things we hate.

that’s it. we’re not complicated. we don’t have agendas. we’re not out to sucker-punch you. we want to see GOD emerging from you as you are!

we carry love and intelligence. we believe that the GOD is inside of you (not that you are the god!) your job is to the let the GOD out.

that’s it.

but apparently the whole lying and cheating thing is too much for everyone (cheating is when you support a lie through omission or design a lie to be directly misleading, etc.)

personally, i find it amazingly exciting not to be able to lie or scurry sideways. it’s so EASY to lie. and once you start, why stop?

which leads us to the real essay about a man who went to an entitled school and designed a very remedial app that was chosen by the invisible empire to collect information and behavioral patterns from weak people who need attention. also known as FACEBOOK.

***************************

look how far we’ve come & ""CONGRESS MAN, YES" & several of the reasons why USURER’S LOGIC makes FACEBOOK the future press darlings of 2018", scott richard image and painting from 2012 (original photo from 2010)

PRESS PLAY

i love you, i know yello (1983)

an essay that cites TONS of quotes and incidents from the recent congressional meeting regarding FACEBOOK taking over the world and why you should have invested when i told you to invest… i did. just so proof would equal pudding.

(FYI the stock went up to 208 from 164 two weeks after this essay was written. it’s back down to what it was at that time again. facebook is spreading its profits into subsids now, so it’s not on my BUY NOW list. but if you can smell out the little geniuses facebook intends to buy, you might be able to find some juicy investments. i still believe that tesla will produce some kind of design innovation that will be purchasable for worldwide distribution…)

"CONGRESS MAN, YES" & several of the reasons why USURER’S LOGIC makes FACEBOOK the future press darlings of 2018 and beyond based on the CONGRESSIONAL HEARINGS + transcript notes and observations by scott richard

usury sucks for everyone. even those who profit.

and we don’t FIGHT USURY.

we fk it until it destroys everything around us.

FB means fk buddy, literally, not facebook…

anyway, i know from great and long experience that americans graft their identity concepts from the products and services they use and abuse.

you can’t go broke betting on the fall.

to not buy FACEBOOK stock would be like turning down a 50% off willy wonka chocolate bar that ALSO comes with a free golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

so while i listened and periodically watched the 5 hours of boring and often JUVENILE hearings, i couldn’t help thinking how clever deception really is. FACEBOOK does soooo many things that you have no idea about.

where did you think all that FAKE money was going?

and it was sooooo touching when a couple of the congress people dared to ask when mark would stop selling OPIOID DRUGS off FACEBOOK. he conveniently said, never.

but don’t worry, the u.s. sent it’s least qualified people to talk to FACEBOOK about this, lol.

i mean, the vast majority of these congresspeople were like children who have no clue about adult concepts.

for example, not one congressperson asked if those "privacy settings" weren’t hackable — as in something so FKING SIMPLE like "well, a hacker can hack past those infantile settings." instead, they gave zuckerberg the legal opportunity to talk-stall his way out of their four minutes. it was EMBARRASSING to see how stupid most of these congresspeople really are and how unlearned about important tech philosophy. most of them had no idea even what "privacy settings" were, so many spent their four minutes being "schooled". fking waste. that’s like sending me to the olympics for weightlifting…

so the first problem is that congresspeople don’t really know a lot about anything. in general, they are "OUT OF THE GD LOOP" when it comes to understanding worldwide things like the fking INTERNET!!??! they know a little about a lot.

anyway, each congressperson was given four minutes to ask zuckerberg questions about what happened.

the LARGE majority wasted these minutes with grandstanding. only a handful seemed to have an inkling of what the real reach and danger and anti-American stance that FACEBOOK has against the united states.

so instead of gathering relevant testimony and commitment from FACEBOOK on super important legal issues regarding citizenship protection and unethical information exchange, they paraded themselves for THEIR fake american constituent’s votes. it was DISGUSTING. how fking shallow bipartisan azzhoes really are.

instead of REPRESENTING AMERICA, they represented their own careers.

and honestly, every single person on MEDZ or overeating or over drinking these days is acting like an ANTI-AMERICAN. supremacy is also a form of ANTI-AMERICANISM.

we’ve reached a point where our daily choices are becoming ANTI-AMERICAN and in violation of other citizens’ rights to be free. but i guess we don’t see it clearly, mostly.

in the city, it is much more obvious. especially a FAKE SANCTUARY city like san francisco, the sanctuary is REALLY being given to the monied and the foreign investors, not the locals. it’s a FAKE moniker for investors, not a representation of anything more. but most people are like these congresspeople — out to get more votes from their base. but that’s not AMERICAN. that’s just regional self-interest.

thankfully, there were a few exceptions and those ones were AWESOME to hear. they were incredibly revealing. and it is clear that their voices are being thrown out. so that’s a drag, but you can’t really stop FACEBOOK. they are not a social platform. they are the world’s largest company and they fund TONS of stuff around the globe.

for example, FACEBOOK is going to have the largest WORLDWIDE "counterterrorism" team. already there team is competitive with world powers. soon, they will be larger than any nation’s.

now, those of us who are in the know, well, we KNOW that the COUNTERTERRORISTS are the real terrorists.

if you listen to the 9/11 commission report you would know this, too. or, if you listened to anything the islamic world is saying you’d know this, too. but i already know you don’t listen to those people.

doesn’t change the truth — the COUNTERRERRORISTS are the real terrorists.

so now FACEBOOK will be the leading force in this deception.

already they have over 200 people working full time in 30 different languages in counterterrorism.

if you don’t get what this means, you should go read my facebook farewell that i wrote about two years ago when i stopped contributing to the largest surveillance system ever built and used against humanity.

i had written a similar program concept in the 90s. it was called CYBERBUDDY.

the idea was you would input your info into a program (we call them apps now) that tracked your emotional and physical world by remembering everything you input and being able to remind you of things — how you felt about others, what had happened and what others had done to you.

and, as all the social media programs do, it would have a backside that was constantly selling your information to buyers.

but the user never knew this.

anyway, that’s exactly what FACEBOOK did. and let’s be honest, FACEBOOK was CHOSEN.

it’s not that great.

there were way better platform possibilities. but the world cartels needed something legit, so they chose the HARVARD-based platform. and it worked. they inserted the most deviant and self-revealing and WORSE betraying platform known to humans.

this congressperson is holding up a chart. it shows FACEBOOK’s profits.

they are escalating exponentially. from 1 billion in 2006 to 26 billion in 2016 and then WATCH THE FKING LEAP!!!!

40 BILLION dollars in 2017.

buy now. you won’t be crying later.

anyway, zuckerberg intends to have more than 20,000 people working on counterterrorism within a year or so. they are also building an endless array of surveillance and algorithmic tools that will affect ALL world trade. they are also deeply involved in ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE development.

basically, if you wanted an anti christ of jewish origins, you are looking at the rise of the kingship. but if you’re not scared and don’t go that way right away, dip into OVERHEAD STUDIES to see just how amazingly controlling all of this is when you also have KILL DRONES and security enforcement.

already OVERHEAD STUDIES are being used against the u.s. population to imprison us.

anyway, for most people this will seem crazy and like a new gibberish. so be it.

i started to take notes about a third of the way into process when i started to get a feel for how the "hearings" work. it was new for me, but i’ll post the transcript of my notes which are a lot of actual transcriptting.

the republicans are all for it and that’s why you should bet on FACEBOOK. especially since the majority of FACEBOOK’s users are and will be NOT from america. so our "opinion" of this is just that.

FACEBOOK is bigger than the u.s. government and for the record, the whole counterterrorism surveillance team works from outside the u.s.

where there are different laws…

okay, so here’s the transcript which i LAUGHINGLY call:

CONGRESS MAN, YES

because this is the tactic zuckerberg and his lawyers realized was the WINNING COMBO.

who knew congresspeople were so fking stupid? especially from the stupid states. geez.

no wonder so many extra-foreigners are making a bid at stealing so much of the united states’ property.

it must be fking easy with so many dum fks.

and to those congress people who used this momentous occasion to further their careers instead of protecting the american public, FKU!!!!!

*********************************

PRESS PLAY

no stars

figures on a beach

the partial notes:

CONGRESSMAN, YES

i would love to be a congressperson, but to be one, i would have to not understand any of this. so why are they “representing” us??!?!?!

zuckerbergs tactics.

agree with the person.

deflect away from the topic by using their weakness and lack of knowledge.

obscure the truth. pretend you’re not a MASSIVE CONGLOMERATE but a calendar site for connecting people’s lives HALLMARK.

once zuckerberg figures out how to run the clock down, he takes over everytime.

some senators (usually republican) have long winded and meaningless monologues followed by easy to answer questions of no importance except to wind the four minute clock down.

20K employees for content control.

some senators (usually democratic) try to get him to answer YES OR NO questions. his tactic for stalling in this case is deflect back to their misunderstanding of the precise language or meaning. it makes them look dumb (a lot of the are and don’t understand why FACEBOOK is such a walking/talking front for a secret information and collection agency as well as worldwide product mouthpiece)

the best questions take all four minutes and then zuckerberg can deflect easily. fk that!!!

NOT A SINGLE CONGRESS PERSON (well, maybe one, but he petered out oddly) got through their questions. most had MANY left and were forced to “submit” them for consideration. BULLSHIT!!!!

SMASHFACE his “prank” site.

"we’re getting ready to overreact”

we do nothing or we overreact!

you need to save your ship?

diamond and silk. african american women.

what is unsafe about two women supporting donald trump?

mr. schrader from oregon.

do you delete and save.

yes.. all things saved.

document retention policy.

preserve mails/conversations

testified that you don’t sell information.

but others do. aren’t you complicit?

"complaint only” enforcement.

kennedy democrat

wasted the whole time trying to explain himself.

“i’m sorry, i don’t understand your question.”

targeting options are shared likes. shared by facebook.

ad ranking. meta data. behaviors. newsfeed. relevancy vs. GIVING to advertisers.

how do people then “own” their own data?

then gets lost in the process and time runs out.

part of the rub

second you focus the individual instead of societal impact… you’re out of time.

but news and media. blah blah blah

mr flores. texas

large oil company monopoly 1800s 1900s

telecom company monopoly in the70s

thanks for being good.

wasted the whole time with a bizarre lecture.

conservatives are mad about BIAS.

they can’t see past their stupidity.

policy responses.

ideological agnosticism regarding their users public facing activities

finally, some questions. do you believe FACEBOOK SHOULD BE IDEOLOGICALLY NEUTRAL?

i agree we should be a platform for all ideas. [cuts him off and moves to next question. bam! yeah!!

with respect to privacy we need a baseline when we talk about a virtual person, name address websites visited, picture, etc. ownership issue is the individual’s creation.

they own it.

do you agree.

yes.

use of data issue and full disclosure for unlimited time.

easy understand.

runs out of time.

california

mr cardenas

biggest business model and totally unregulated.

shows shareholder revenues table

2009 net revenue less than a billion dollars

26 billion for 2016

40 billion dollars for 2017

CEO of cambridge analytica stepped down during the meeting.

does that solve the issue around the controversy.

no, two issues. how were they able to buy data from a developer that people chose to share it with? but some of the info originated on facebook.

people had it on facebook and CHOSE to share their AND their friend’s information…

question:

buy information to add or augment to build around them their profile.

we just recently announced that we’ve stopped working with data brokers as part of the ad system.

yes, standard practice.

you did engage in it.

yes. until we announced we were shutting it did.

facebook threatened to sue the guardian if it revelaed the cambridge analytica story.

hey maybe you don’t want to do that.

“there may have been an specific factual inaccuracy.”

however they did go through with it regardless.

then ONLY then did facebook apologize for 89 million users info ending up in other people’s hands.

‘

it’s time that you FACEBOOK want to be a leader and american you can be a leader.

are you committed to being a leader. you can in fact do right by users of facebook.

time’s out. two second answer?

"i am definitely committed to taking a broader review of our responsibility. not so that we don’t just give people tools but so they are used for good.”

first five or ten minute , ten minute recess.

5;40

TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES LATER…

mre. brooks indiana

platform of facebook and other platforms help keep us safe from terrorists and recruitment of women and children to join terrorist organizations.

facebook didn’t exist before 9/11

isis and al acaida use these platforms.

terrorism recruitment.

now terrorists use social media.

then you talked about dangerous or objectionable content needing to be reported but what if they don’t? what if people just assume that someone else is reporting.

what is the leadership role of facebook, our role in stopping recruitment.

thank you for the question. there is no place for that in our network.

we’ve developed a number of tools so that 99% of isis and al acaida is flagged before we even see it.

we’re proud of it as a model for removing "harmful content".

as of march 29th there were ISIS videos, executions,

april 9th five pages of hezbollah content

what is the mechanism?

is it AI

2-0K people?

what are you using.

this is just within a week.

counter terrorism team at facebook with 200 people.

other content reviewers not in the 200.

NCTC produces analysis, maintains the authoritative database of known and suspected terrorists, shares information, and conducts strategic operational planning. NCTC is staffed by more than 1,000 personnel from across the IC, the Federal government, and Federal contractors. NCTC’s workforce represents approximately 20 different departments and agencies—a tribute to the recognition by the intelligence, homeland security, and law enforcement communities of NCTC’s role in protecting the Nation against terrorist threats.

just focused on counter terrorism.

30 languages.

AI tools in development

proactively flag content and sources

owns wassap? .

how are they helping the to stop the recruiting.

WOW BACK TO THE ORIGINAL POINTS : WHAT THE FUCK IS FACEBOOK?!?!?

cue WILD WILD COUNTRY

correction plea: whether web blogs would be able to download your info. they are not we only store them temporarily. we convert them into ad inter

Posted by torbakhopper on 2019-11-19 14:45:36

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[icepeak-blog]

chambers patriot RIDDICK, scott richard 2004

the beauty of old friends….

PRESS PLAY

faith ft. Mr. Probz galantis & dolly parton

and now an essay on why america needs to debunk itself from anti-american AMERICAN racist USURERS & "color coding" racism ….

***********************

recently i was laid into by an unsolicited critic. but you know me, i lap that stuff up like delicious poison!!!!

the most delighting part in all of this criticism was when the phrase LETHAL ACTIVISM was levied against me. as if i’ve ever harmed anyone or my intentions on here are to harm others!!!! i know it was levied unfairly because i know the critic. and the critic was hurt. so it was more of a personal attack designed to hurt me back for being honest.

but, for the record, my battle is against USURY. and the spirit of USURY is not a person.

this is a lifetime struggle against an invisible demon which has been infecting the human people since long before its earliest recordings/sightings/mentionings (it is first recognized and named in the INDIAN text the Mahabharata).

USURY is a destructive LIVING FORCE that infects humans just like AIDS did (yep, the lap dogs of USURY did that, too). Usury, as a spiritual force manifests as a mental disease that leads the victim of the disease to believe that they are better than other human and non-human life forms and can enact schemes of power and control over those other humans and other life forms in taking by force the CONTROL of their reproduction cycles and sexual habits.

it is the equivalent of BESTIALITY. and many people are so delusional that they think bestiality is people fking animals. this is simply NOT TRUE.

BESTIALITY is when you (as a human force) take over the reproduction and sex rights of other species and imprison them for practical purposes.

it is an ancient prohibition because of how it leads to social disorder by OBVIOUSLY favoring those who would abuse the spirit of life to gain sht. THINK RWANDA, duh!? it was a cow blood war started by belgian setups of economic disparity and favoritism. they used animal husbandry to divide the two populations.

and i call these sideline instigators the FOOD AND BEVERAGE cartels (F&B cartels). you’re welcome.

and BESTIALITY is a natural physical deformation of the spirit of USURY when it acquires henchmen like the F&B cartels. so is SLAVERY. and pharmaceutical drug addiction.

but back to LETHAL ACTIVISM…

as INACCURATE AND UNKIND as this attack on my personhood is — i am not this stream, i am not this essay, i have written over 1300 hundred essays and they are in the group THINK CLUB if you dare to want to know/piece together more of who you think i am. good luck keeping up, i have chased after the great spirits for decades without resting — and added to it that i practice GENTILITY and DISTANCE from other humans.

i will also protect other people’s children from harm. sometimes i will also protect others, but it might also look to some like i’m doing it as an attack against the aggressor, but those people with that view generally think more slowly AND do little in any time of REAL crisis.

they are flighters. the cowards among our species. ironically, these are the same cowards who later call us heroes for just doing the VERY ORDINARY THING. their award is just more shame on people who don’t run away.

so perhaps my critic was really expressing a fear of the nearness of LETHAL ACTIVISM in our societies? perhaps the HUMAN SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE has had enough of this INFECTION of USURY in the elites of human society?

perhaps my critic is realizing for themself that the spiritual world is once again calling upon ALL OF US through "fate and destiny" (geopolitical locationing) to rise up against the weight of this construct. but my critic doesn’t even realize time has weight!!??!? pity the sciences and maths which could leave something so basic off the menu!!!

perhaps this critic has identified a rising spirit and sees in me a harbinger of this ENERGY. fair play.

but if my words could KILL, i would say this to my critic,

"i hope you live forever!! i hope my love for you stays inside your heart and keeps you company throughout the ages!! i hope you weren’t lying about love like you are lying about most things in your life. I didn’t even want you to be free. I just wanted to have fun. WTF, playboy!!!!"

and perhaps my critic now knows that there is a greater magic than the feeble white man’s sciences of falsely identified and defined numbers, of falsely applied logics of math without philosophical support — sorry, kids, stories ALWAYS come before numbers. always have, always will. and science is just a wee little story based on astrology which converted into astronomy with the astrolabes of discovery, and then slowly headed into a collective concept that eventual gave birth to physics as the role of the "real" star interpreter took on precedence in the courts of europe. and china. and india. because there are many cultural responses to the idea of the sky and the idea of stars and the idea of rotational charting and map making. i know, it was all just for FUN right from the start [wink wink, glad the lore of the young and all the unknown lovers could chime in on all the personal criticism. ah, how disgusting and messy polyamory gets, it just never ends…].

but SERIOUSLY, it was just for fun. it still is!

the innocence of someone looking up in the sky and thinking, "there’s that ONE light again! and LOOK! the other!!!"

but this isn’t magic. it is correlation. it’s us seeing something and going, "hey, look at that!" and then agreeing, "I SEE IT, I SEE IT, WE SEE IT". and the WE is born of this endeavor.

obviously, real magic can take place when you conjoin these correlations.

in my life real magic is grafted directly from circumstance and variables and available energy. and it is directed through the voice or the imaginative voice of the spell caster. everyone sort of already knows this. we’ve been told all about it since we were children.

for example, how many "astronauts", the children of those early astrological wanderings, have actually "touched" the surface of anything NOT human made but out of the orbit? [he falls over laughing, but all the gold bars wasted and laundered through fake space programs have piled up so high above his head that he can only see glittering skyscrapers] www.flickr.com/photos/gazeronly/albums/72157650835706423

we are fking funny!!! and now, how much FAKE money has been dumped into the lavish lifestyles of those employed and funded by this expansive waste of money?

this is not magic.

so to my critic, perhaps there should be some gratitude that those like me who touch these powers are kind to our critics? perhaps it would behoove said critic to acknowledge that their narcissism is not the source of my inquiries and does not direct my willingness to accept answers. i am not magical in order to entertain narcissists. that’s what hollywood is for anyway. and "court magicians". that is SLEIGHT OF HAND, which is USURY, not magic.

so what do they know of love? they still use it like a back hoe and everyone who wants a job sucks dck to get it. if you have bad knees or they get tender fast from kneeling, buy knee pads, cckskr. [and that’s a compliment if you do it well. you’ll get the job cuz anyone can act.]

so please, let me state for ALL PUBLIC RECORD that i am not a LETHAL ACTIVIST. in fact, i’d never even heard of it before.

i am a cultural activist and i fight for the spirit of humanity and the preservation of those gifts which manifest themselves as forms in our lives — community, identity, stability.

i fight against usury and those who debt-enslave others, sell weapons to kill children and their parents, sell drugs to kill the caretakers of children, and those who traffic humans or fk kids (whether by economic coercion or actual action) — so BOO HOO HOO. sue me!

or educate yourself. but please, lethal activism??!! that’s just mean. and i can shrug that one off. i get it, you’re hurt.

but more importantly, there was a startling book written and released in russia (allegedly) back at the turn of the 20th century. it’s a short handbook that describes in realistic and profoundly brutal terms the manner in which a TINY group of CLAIMED ELITES can take over and enslave the masses, which are LESS HUMAN than these elites.

and while it is TRUE that the book was purportedly foisted onto a group called the LEARNED ELDERS (the kingship of jews, actually, because apparently it’s more complicated than people want to believe…) who were apparently attempting to destabilize the governments/aristocracies/oligarchs of western europe. i mean, anti-semitism was a GD section in the book stores in russia and germany and other "nation states" of the day. and apparently it was a huge section. and if you know me, i’ve been trying my best to get people to understand that the UNITED STATES is literally MANUFACTURING its own breed of anti-semitism on television and streaming. shows like AMERICAN DAD, which have had top ratings for years, are disgustingly ladened with all manner of jokes and put-downs and weird sideways. (yes, i wrote an essay about that, too, seven years ago…)

www.flickr.com/photos/gazeronly/6931096786

this is often INVERSE DUMPING. if you watched the video you’ll know what i’m talking about, as MATT WEITZMAN’s role in all of this is totally suspect:

"Matt Weitzman was born to a Jewish family[2] in Los Angeles, California. His father is Lew Weitzman, a long time literary agent for over 40 years. Matt attended American University, where he became and brother of Alpha Epsilon Pi,[3] and graduated with a communications degree. Shortly after college, he pursued acting with some success, then later began writing for television sitcoms. As a child, Weitzman was an avid comic book collector and reader of fantasy and science fiction. This is what he has called "inspiration" for upcoming projects." wiki

if you read my work, you know that i know all about the super hero creation market and who started it and how it’s literally a LOSER’S spirit buried in skin tight homosexual man worship. but you can do some of your GD research about history because darnit, there’s so much of it to swallow. let’s just say that people who are genocided (this includes homosexuals) definitely dream of striking back against their "oppressors".

and super heroes are the capitalized/capitalistic version of the pantheon gods of the ancient world.

the primary difference is that super heroes work for the highest human agencies of government control so you can see how this fantasy framework immediately instigates conspiracy and dread-laced confectionaries of BETRAYAL, DECEPTION, LIES AND MURDER. super heroes are embedded in contemporary politics, whereas the ancient "gods" are fantastical and have been relegated to olive leaves and togas. i hope this makes sense. anyway, if you read the PROTOCOLS, again, you don’t need to hear the messenger!!!!

the comic book industry is insidious and mentally deformational on young people’s minds. it is a vulgarity and glamorized FAKE body types (historically) to gain market claims before becoming powerful enough to overtake alternate markets in foreign lands. after being blown to bits in wwii, manga took off like mad in japan: " Since the 1950s, manga has steadily become a major part of the Japanese publishing industry.[7] By 1995, the manga market in Japan was valued at ¥586.4 billion ($6–7 billion),[8] with annual sales of 1.9 billion manga books and manga magazines in Japan (equivalent to 15 issues per person).[9] Manga have also gained a significant worldwide audience.[10] In 2008, in the U.S. and Canada, the manga market was valued at $175 million. Manga represent 38% of the French comics market, which is equivalent to approximately ten times that of the United States.[11] In France, the manga market was valued at about €460 million ($569 million) in 2005.[12] In Europe and the Middle East, the market was valued at $250 million in 2012.[13]" wiki

we could talk a long time about the after effects of being holocausted or target hunted, but let’s get back to the PROTOCOLS!!!!

and again, who cares who wrote this book??!?!

it was written and it’s been around long enough to have been read by all humans who can read. so READ IT!!!! (then you can listen to the 27hours of information released by the u.s. governement on the four decade collusion that led to the manufacturing of 9/11. IT’S CALLED A COMMISSION REPORT in case one doesn’t already know that the U.S. released a very weird and disturbing BODY OF TEXT to the world. perhaps if YOU read it, you’d know more, too. at least you’d be able to see the amazing LIES that this nation’s government TELLS and gets CAUGHT telling and then TELLS more and gets CAUGHT telling and then TELLS more…)

anyway, who cares? i mean, let’s be liberal and BLAME all men, because FK it was a MAN who wrote the book after all. EVERYONE can agree that it was NOT written by a woman. that much is true!!!

but instead, "they" want you to believe and focus on the jewish part of authorship. and you will see this in the introduction of the book. because it’s old enough to be an antique, the book has acquired its own sense of history.

but AGAIN, i’m a gnostic. i don’t care if it is about to be written and released tomorrow for the first time ever, i think you should read it!!

it is the INFORMATION AND STRATEGIES inside the book that are so valuable.

just like every girl should STEAL the book THE GAME from somewhere and read it so she can know what SHTTY men are out there and also what shtty girlfriends do to each other.

and again, i am not the one on the cover of this SHTTY DATE RAPE HANDBOOK FOR MEN that is saying i’m of "jewish" descent. he does that himself, but again, i hope my FKING hating his book and the tricks he has gathered and compiled from america’s rich history of DATE RAPE ARTISTS doesn’t make me the bad guy. and i’m certainly not going to look at all the awesome people that i know of personally and throughout the world who call themselves jewish and think, hmmm, they’re all date rapists!!!! nope, just him. and harvey weinstein. and what do we call people who go to date rapes on purpose more than once? are they victimizing the date rapist? i get so confused when there is such a moral sexual breakdown in breeder semantics. if you have to give hed to get ahed, how many times do you have to give hed and STAY AHED?

like am i supposed to hate catholics because machiavelli wrote a political treatise on how the medici’s could do the same thing to their own people — fiscally date rape and murder their peers? rather, you should hate the catholic state for its actions and historical thuggery and it’s sexual violations against thousands and thousands of boys. that would make a lot more sense instead of putting it on the dupes who fall for such drivel. and i’m so distrustful i’m like, "what is the vatican hiding that they are willing to use PEDOPHILIA as a distraction?!?!" HLY FK!!!! how come we never go for real answers?!?!"

but isn’t that how REVERSE DUMPING works?

just ask MALCOM X!!!!! here’s a quote you can look at: ""the F.B.I. can feed information to the press that makes your neighbor think you are something subversive. the F.B.I. can do this very skillfully. they maneuver the press on a national scale and the C.I.A. maneuvers the press on an international scale" 1964

and let’s be honest, that was 55 fking years ago!!!! do you not think that the information societies that play nation states like checker pieces haven’t become paranormous?

when/if you get to the FACEBOOK essay down below, you’ll see this more clearly and you will understand how it’s a TRILLIONAIRE’s front who is using SCHOOLS and their products — including zuckerberg’s whole life (he’s being "hannah montana-ed©"!!!) — as fronts to generate dominant world control of new surveillance technology and ALL of its advancements.

so you do know malcom got reversed dumped, right!?!?! you DO at least know that, right? and you do know that whenever black men of power rise they are beaten down with the myriad temptations of the USURERs CLUB (drugs, sex, power, alcohol, attention). and if that doesn’t work, assassination.

that’s hardcore REVERSE DUMPING. whites usually don’t end up getting the bullet, poor Vincent foster…

but in our real world, in our daily lives, SOFTCORE reverse dumping happens when you tell someone honestly that they have a problem and then suddenly they try to reduce your world to ruins simply because you objected to THEIR DISHONESTY or TREACHERY or UNKINDNESS or ECONOMIC SLANDERING. suddenly, for saying, "hey!! you’re lying to me!!!" i am the LETHAL ACTIVIST? "hey! you’re giving people AIDS!! and i’m the LETHAL ACTIVIST? and worse, somehow giving people AIDS on purpose is better than FIGHTING BACK? better than letting them do it again to a new target group? really?

but it’s true. if you say anything about this book, you are probably going to be labeled anti-semitic.

but for me, that’s the LIE. i have hung out with way too many cool people that i admired and respected and adored and have also been HIGHLY influenced by to care about their JEWISHNESS. more often than not, i wasn’t even concerned with their "jewishness". if they wanted to share their ideas and what this "meant" to them, they would. not unlike gays who must constantly come out of the closet so that people don’t accidentally say something irrevocably hateful because they couldn’t tell the person was gay because they weren’t having sex in front of them and there were no other visual clues.

as a homo, i resent people who would take an entire ethnicity or culture or way of being and say EVERYONE in this "fake group" is

a: in agreement with each other b: the same c: so easily reducible

these are things STUPID (by choice) and IGNORANT (disengagement and self-interested) people share — judging LITERAL groups that have been intellectually arranged on very BARE and SEPARATIZING notions is PRIMARY BULLSHT. and the USURERS love this because it deflects from the FACT that they are a REAL GROUP in their "servitude" to the demonic forces of USURY. read plato if you need to understand some of things socrates was railing on against.

so USURY forces us to talk about these FAKE CLUSTERS or SHARDS as if they are real and have a genuine existence. they don’t, they’re just like everything else — they are proximity ideas that will die and pass away. there is a historylessness to most of us.

as a result these dynamics are all constructs of fate and birth. you happen to be colombian, you happen to be vietnamese, you happen to be [insert something here], cuz you’re just a gosh dern human at the beginning and the end.

they are all mutable and they all come with their own seeds of separation and distinction. they all create their own INTERIOR hierarchies where they enact the same

all that aside, the truth is that this book is FKNG amazing. and you’d know if you read it. it’s BRILLIANT and the game is on.

it is a playbook for raping the little people who don’t matter. it’s where the original idea of a MASTER CARD comes from, for fks sake!!!!! it is the birth of the credit system we fking use everywhere these days!!!!

but i guess most of you don’t realize that our dear president in the 1920s read this short work of political theory. that alone should give you cause to go and read it just to see how useful this information is and how much of it is CURRRENTLY IN USE and how easily it would be to dismantle this strangulation if more people would educate themselves instead of fking around indulging in their side lives of debauchery and social mayhem, lol. but those are the treats of the USURER!!

take more loans!! live beyond your means!!!!

and now that we are again in a period where ANTI-SEMETISM is being blatantly and openly promoted by ECONOMICALLY PRONGED SEMITES (why is it so cool to throw your own people in front of the bus for your cause? who told you that was legit politics? — seriously, look at the producers of almost any television show. you will immediately start to see a trend that is alarming — as if anyone is still even reading this essay. but if you are an american who was of asian descent you might notice the clear absence of your ethnicity on television and in television production roles. but china and japan and many other countries in those regions have their own ENTERTAINMENT CARTELS in full-swing, too. but in "america" you have to admit really fast that NPR and other outlets of alleged news are stocked and renewed with a fk lot of people who also identify with minority groups that have been historically punished throughout centuries for running USURY GAMES on the "humans" they deemed less worthy.

and you should be able to figure out that i’m not talking about homos. but you can do your research instead of lambasting me for referring to the idea that there are ACTUAL DATA POINTS worth noting. after all, isn’t the OLD TESTAMENT the most anti-semitic book ever written? i’ve read it. it’s a history of shtty people who never got along with anybody and it always ends in genocide and slavery. i’m fking literate!!!! i didn’t write that GD book!! i just read it. it’s fking anti-semitic.

so if you are curious instead of a KNEE-JERK, read the protocols and you will find out that i’m not SAYING ANYTHING, i’m just the messenger alerting LAZY FKRS that sht is going on and has been in process for over a century. it’s NOT new.

further, i’m just the guy who got jumped by the side of the road and there was no good samaritan to assist me.

but, i survived. and now, i know how to spot the robbers. i’ve been jumped endlessly since then. i learned from camille paglia that einstein was wrong.

repeating the same act over and over again actually does eventually lead to breakthrough depending on who is performing the experiment. WE are the magical element in science!!!! it’s OUR imagination that gives science life, not the other way around.

and, unlucky for me, my "self constructs" have been shattered so many times that i no longer perceive information the way i did when i could hide behind those constructs. i’ve been lied to and cheated on in every imaginable way. i scare the SHT out of people with how quickly i unravel all their hateful lies in person. people are scared to be around me because i can "see" their sins and write them in the sand — they become terrified of my experience.

alternately, only by accident, have i lied and cheated. and when i do, i grovel back and apologize and i take it on myself to acknowledge my awfulness. and i don’t PRETEND that i deserve forgiveness.

lucky for me, this is very rare and usually under strange and weirdly unimportant circumstantial moments when the character or nature of another being alters my balance. that is to say, i remember almost every lie i’ve ever told and how it hurt the person or aided me to my "advantage".

and i didn’t like myself as a liar. i have a good memory and i don’t practice denial. it is not the gnostic way. denial does not lead to KNOWING. i don’t want to be with a lover or a friend and know that i lie to them or told them a lie. i find that so uncomfortable and disgusting and faithless.

lying is humanity’s greatest toy. and people play with it constantly. and then they are old and feel stupid about how they spent their lives. yay!

research can lead you to a different outcome. and if you take the time to read this political tract, you won’t need me to explain anything to you.

instead you will read the words which are well over one hundred years old at this point. and who cares about its origin or anti-semitism?!??! study the ACTUAL CONTENT. it is like a book of magic spells (barely, magic is so much cooler). learn to see that to this fking day people use ANTI-SEMITISM to keep you from reading the book. they don’t want you to know about it. they want you to ignore this book. and THEY are white, yellow, blue, green and red, for all you COLOR CODED RACISTS who think people are GD colors!!!! THEY are the oligarchs and secret emperors who control the drug trade, the weapons disbursement programs and the natural resource allotments for "nation states" — the USURERS’ favorite little pet projects and "clients".

if you take time to read this tract (it’s only about 100 pages), the realizations will also help elucidate a lot of things about the history of HUMANS who have actively used these techniques to undermine cultures and societies wherever they go. they are information collectors and litigators. these are their tools to bind.

but first, to give you some boundaries on this, i will use myself as an example.

let’s make it personal for just one second…

as a HOMOSEXUAL who was tortured as a four year old child and had my penis raped with a steel object by a white male doctor in his thirties under the auspices of something medical — no one will tell me to this day what the reason was for doing this to two little boys, two pretty decent little twins — i have spent my life being degraded and humiliated by other people for not running away from the horror that overtook my life.

for example, even before i thought i was gay my father completely disowned me for "having a negative reaction" to being raped in the dck. he came home and found two crazy kids instead of the fun ones he’d maybe seen the day before. he told me very directly when i was 28 that he had come home one day when i was about four and i was a "cold, aloof and a distant prick." those were his exact words. and this was before i knew what had happened. and i said, that sounds like child abuse! he said, "i figured if you wanted to be that way, i could be that way, too." and he never talked to me or touched me again. and i mean LITERALLY. in speech he shifted over to using only the objective command form of language from then on. it was very isolating, but i was terrified of him anyway since he used corporal punishment in the same way male hookers in hollywood use cocaine — liberally when available!!!!

anyway, i didn’t find out till age seven that "fag" and "fairy" and "queer" somehow vaguely applied to me like a death sentence… san diego was very homophobic and murderous and one of the pilot cities where the idea of a "hate crime" was born to separate HUMAN HUNTERS from ordinary murderers…

so as a child i was terrified of going into a bath room with other men/males after this episode. and this meant ALL public bathrooms.

i was literally terrified that i would be brutalized again. every time i had to urinate and was out in the world, i became desperately afraid that if i went into the bathroom and couldn’t lock everyone out, i would be raped again. that’s how four year olds perceive the world. once raped, ten times shy.

and the horror of this was with me constantly. weirdly, i had no memories of the incident. it had shattered my mind, my being, everything about me.

i only "know" it happened because I demanded to know at least the dates when it became clear that it had actually happened (there were two follow up visits to the damage). my twin brother never forgot it. somehow, his mind stayed in tact during the episode. during my childhood he would frequently bring up the event but he was just four years old as well. all he could actually remember was the book he was reading in the waiting room before it happened. and weirdly, i, too, remember the entire book that i was reading.

and sadly, he hated me for not remembering. all i remember is that he kept saying something about a farm bird ( a red rooster) over and over again asking me if i remembered. but i had no idea what it meant. finally, when i was 38 he actually told me. he had no idea that i had no memories and he thought i was colluding against him all these years.

his book was about a red rooster. my book was about a little red hen, which is also the title of the book. the little red hen wants to make bread but also wants company during the process and seeks that instead of making bread. finally, in desperation, the little animal gives up and goes out to do ALL the tasks to make bread. then, the bitter pill at the end, the smell of the baking bread brings ALL the other animals that were asked for help. they all want baked bread!!!! heheheh.

then the doctor stuck a sounding device (metal rod) up our dicks. i don’t remember that part.

so yes, scott has shame!!!! i can’t remember. it sits on top of me like a desperate crime committed by someone else.

forgive me if i want to make sure that this stuff doesn’t happen to other children while their mother is in the waiting room. forgive me if i don’t trust doctors and lawyers and mortgage brokers and bankers. forgive me if i know their dark side.

i guess that’s why i am a "living sign" of this shame. so be it. i will be brave. i can withstand the shame of others. besides, it is PERSONAL shame that i have no room for in my life — the shame one lavishes up for oneself — a shame that has come from within instead of from without. a shame that sickens the GOD within and ails its arrival. this is the shame of INTENTIONAL DECEPTION and TRICKERY.

at least my shame has been given to me by society.

it’s not mine, which is why i can use it in magic. and it’s surprisingly powerful. and most people know this, because there is so much shame in these essays i write. it’s almost unbearable, which is why so few readers make it to the end of any of them. again, this is intentional.

i don’t want all of you to suffer. just those of you who have the courage to stare into the horror without flinching. just those of you who are actually brave enough to become REALIZED.

so my magic of shame erodes and undermines everyone who reads these essays all the way through to the end. and these few readers are the only audience i care about. because they are agents of change. they can taste the poison and find the cure. it is our task!!! and they know it, too.

like me, they have made it their goal to make sure that people who think this kind of behavior is “okay” are taken out of positions of power. and i use these essays that i write to plant seeds and to allow others to see their voice in another, because i KNOW i’m not alone.

when PHILOMEL’s tongue was ripped from her throat, the gods made a new bird that could sing that shameful crime of the king who raped her and then tried to silence her by stealing her voice.

i don’t write these essays because i think ANYONE reads them and goes, “right on!! i’m hitting the fave button!!!"

i write these essays and do the research so that those whose voices are being ripped away can use their new wings to be more than a bird song. so few, these birds who will now fly and sing!

in fact, i don’t imagine most people make it to the end of any of these “essays”. it’s a MACHINE GUN MASSACRE form of writing that INTENTIONALLY only speaks to one or two people who WILL make changes. the INFORMATION will change them — it will not be me, it will not be my personality and it will not be my writing “style”. it will be the idea of the truths that reach into their hearts. and the truth hurts all the time. but even if it doesn’t set you free, it liberates you from LYING!!!! and the lying must stop.

so, as an open HOMOSEXUAL (though it could be easily argued that sexual abuse caused a major deviation), i’ve been clustered grouped my whole life with a stunning array of MEN who are also drawn into the actions of sex with other men. and even in our tiny percentage of ABNORMALITY, there are stand-outs. and these stands out are traditionally distinguished separately.

these stand-outs were called FAGS and TRANNIES and LADY MEN and QUEENS. these are the homosexuals who have serious disagreements with normalized “GENDER ISSUES”.

they are also the most ANTI-MALE of the homosexual community and often dipped/drenched in STEALTH AND TRICKERY AND DECEPTION as a means of counter-balancing the wretchedness of interior feelings and the way the outside society has responded/treated/abused them as people.

they are notably, an attention-deficient group of people who are deeply damaged and wounded from an early age for being different and expressing that difference. the negative treatment reiterates the behavior and more often than not practicers of this type of homosexuality are drawn to the whoredom of the female sexual personae — they end up enacting the slutty side of female sex behavior.

this in turns creates a repulsion in the normalized community — holy sht, a man-woman slut that is parading full-speed and lecherously commanding the attention of everyone or anyone around them.

but isn’t this just the succubus? this isn’t really a homosexual thing as much as it is a social deviation away from the norms that repress and punish homosexuality. the desire to be butterfly attractive is a REACTIONARY stance. it’s not generative and creative. it’s a deviation and a lash-back. it’s a way of vamping. and this same horror is being practiced in the emerging "trans" community. using THEY and THEM to separately disassociate from those who came before is a sign of grammatical desperation. US and WE would be the right choice and the trans community, by allowing the MEDIA to take THEMS over, are being used in the exact same way homos were used — to POLARIZE the majority which makes it easier for banks to weasel into people’s lives with cheap loans and get people to vote for gigantic tax breaks for corporations. but i get it, most of you are TREE PEOPLE and you don’t know you live in a forest. well, not until there’s a fire or the tree cutters show up…

so let’s be serous, having DRAG QUEENS and limp-wristed female copyists representing a community of men who are mostly MARRIED FATHERS is pretty fkt up. right?

because how does that seem like a mature or realized way of embracing the circumstances — that we aren’t allowed to be who we are.

it’s a "DRAG up". it’s dressing like royalty when you’re a pauper. it’s a halloween night that everyone wants to forget later.

in the meantime, the vast majority of homosexuals remain invisible out of fear of being lumped together with the strange HARVEY MILK FREAKS that keep getting chosen to reflect the community.

and the media has been using this polarizing effect to control voting in the united states for the past ten years. the fake front that controls the media now pits homosexuals against others. it pits cops against fking crazy criminals. it promotes car crashes as news. it tracks weather mods and pretends that it’s actually REAL weather instead of manipulated fkery (to this day it is so strange to me that there aren’t classes being taught about this stuff). and it ALWAYS supports tourism unless the intended country is being sanctioned by the invisible front. then they run bad ads.

and i don’t know why all of you don’t know this already. malcom x was pretty clear about it and was even killed for being so clear about it: that is, and I QUOTE

and our human society is super pissed off at the idea of a polygendered society. this is not the USURER’s dream. polygenderism does not put bi-polar gender PARENTING at the forefront of all life. and this would devastate the USURERS. because if PARENTS are the focus of CHILDREN, then the parents become natural "marks" for taking LOANS.

you can loan money to people who need/are told to want stuff for their kids. you can TRAP THEM INTO DEBT SLAVERY very easily by making the ownership of HOMES and CARS and EDUCATION priorities of the capitalistic construct. forget food, clean air and water. those debts will come after these other debts destroy the vast resources of air, water and food. the INTENTIONAL famine is being constructed so fast right now in the city with UBER EATS and AMAZON food delivery. perhaps you need to go back and read that little story in the bible where JOSEPH, while sleeping with the pharoah’s wife, tells the pharaoh that if he really wants to be a great pharaoh all he has to do is create the illusion of prosperity for seven years and then follow it with seven years of mayhem and famine. in this manner, the pharaoh could take over all of his lesser sub-servants’ territories through economic strangulation on the food and water.

but let’s be HONEST!!!!

GENDER ISN’T SEX. so these gender benders NEVER really represented the homosexual community anyway. nor did HARVEY MILK, though now there is a concentrated effort to make him the FACE OF THE "GAY MOVEMENT". ah, how fking sick are we?!?!? harvey milk was the ultimate HOMOPHOBE. just read his history!!!! he preyed on desperate young men, NYC lawyers thought he was scum (arrogant, haughty and a ditch) and we all know what scum 85% of NYC lawyers are… or just lawyers in general, i shouldn’t specifically lay into manhattan fks like our dumptruck fake president.

so back to the story — HOMOSEXUALITY is just SEX WITH MEN BETWEEN MEN. it’s not about relationshipping. that’s GAY stuff. gays are the men and women who are brave enough to simply NOT CARE about the societies in which they exist and choose to be open about their desire to RELATE with their own sex. and this makes a community of sorts. it brings like toward like and cretes "ghettos".

but remember this: BRAVERY is the one thing that almost all humans admire about our collectively shared spirit.

NONETHELESS, as a homosexual man, having a flaming flirtatious, narcissistic sht like HARVEY MILK representing the “gay community” is a fking farce. it’s the WORST example that could be chosen. but harvey milk belongs to the AD MACHINE in fake jewish hollywood. however, AGAIN!!!! if you read about his life ONLY a little bit, you will see what a loser he was and that he actually DID NOTHING while he was in political office (a mere ten months before an angry fellow employee iced him!!!).

in fact, all harvey milk did was get elected. is that HEROIC?

instead, he just pissed an irish catholic white man named dan white off and dan shot his sorry ass for fun, so kicking off the TWINKIE TRIALS where "sugar" was the culprit.

is that heroic? is that a hero? he literally was so shtty that he was shot incidentally. but don’t forget, he also aided and abetted in the suicide of one of his desperate young fk buddies that he preyed upon. the guy was a mess. he embezzled and used people like toilet paper. seriously, you can look this all up.

and if harvey isn’t enough of a reflection of this strange absurdity, we have HERCALES as our example of a greek hero. and what a silly life he lived! he ended up being killed with centaur blood because his wife just wanted him to be faithful. Νέσσος had the last laugh in the end because he knew his blood would kill heracles and that this was the joke — a dead hero can’t be faithless. get it?!!??

and for the record, i’m going to list the VERBS that are attached to each one of Heracles 12 feats (sometimes called labors), which oddly read like a new drinking party game called STEAL, CAPTURE, SLAY:

SLAY SLAY CAPTURE CAPTURE CLEAN SLAY CAPTURE STEAL OBTAIN OBTAIN STEAL CAPTURE cerberus "Heracles says that, although Eurystheus commanded him to bring back Cerberus, it was not from any desire to see Cerberus, but only because Eurystheus thought that the task was impossible." hahahaha, poor cerberus — a three-headed barking dog tooled to the end.

so let’s be real now, is this a “HERO” according to the histories that we keep. these are the actions and accomplishments of a "hero"?

HERACLES’ FEATS, which you can see by the verbs, are pretty straightforward — SLAY, CAPTURE, STEAL, OBTAIN and one menial labor of cleaning out horse stables…

well darn, so much for heroes. especially now when people refer to common soldiers as heroes instead of corporate thug-pawns protecting non-national oligarchical interests in faraway lands at the expense of actual HUMANS.

nothing new there, right? no wonder people made up a CHRIST to try to sort through the FK and KILL schemes of the human condition.

anyway, my point is that when you allow a BAD ROLE MODEL to represent an entire community, it allows bigger communities to PERSECUTE AND TERRORIZE the entire subset community.

AIDS for example was used to terrorize ALL homosexual men. its purpose was LITERALLY to free up the uranium 235 that gets converted “upwards” to uranium 238. so if the african people were enmeshed in a variety of health/life crises they wouldn’t be able to stand up to the western powers and take “control” of the “resource” that was under the land they lived on doing nothing for them.

so voila! — a disease starts in africa with ORAL VACCINES distributed by the JONAS SALK institute. this disease found its way into the gay community quickly due to the nature of sex practices or some other dastardly design — there is a patient O (as in OH, not ZERO). in this case it stood for "out of california, because the was no actual patient zero, AIDS broke out in several places simulatneously in the united states (and remember the first wave of AIDS had an incubation period where you could go over a decade without showing any symptoms.)

"Gaëtan Dugas (French: [ɡaetɑ̃ dyɡa]; February 20, 1953 – March 30, 1984), a Canadian flight attendant, was a relatively early HIV patient who once was widely regarded as "Patient Zero" or the primary case for AIDS in the United States. "

and we don’t need to argue about who it was at the institute who tainted the vaccines. they did. that’s all you need to know. it was intentional.

and recently, i brushed up against a worker who is in the WAR PROMOTION industry that keeps this nation fat and rich and over-medicated. i heard what i already know — there is a cone of information silence at every level as you ascend. the higher you rise, the dirtier you get. this man, for example, produced a working model for the exact point at which a toxic agent will collapse your breathing tissues in your throat. it is a bio-mechanical “model” which is now used to identify the amounts of any of these toxic agents you need to dump on a population to get the results you want. oddly, he doesn’t take any responsibility for this work or the way in which the work is used around the world now and SOLD to other governments and information societies.

so this CONE OF SILENCE methodology is exactly what allows 99.99999% of the good/stupid people to feel fine about the shtty things they are doing and creating while the .00000001% adds the TAINTED POISONS and TOXINS at the last second.

and, as i was saying earlier, that’s what this book THE PROTOCOLS of the LEARNED ELDERS of ZION is about — how to become the .000000001% and subdue the majority. and who cares whether russian anti-semites wrotes it? does that change the EDUCATIONAL VALUE of the CONTENT INFORMATION? or is that just there to keep people from reading it? ANYONE can use the information, for example, duh!!!! ANYONE.

i mean do people listen to pop songs sung by women about getting nasty and dirty and sexual and think, HEY, A MAN WROTE THAT!!!! they should. 99% of weird love songs from the seventies in the world of disco — which brought us cocaine, tight pants and a general hedonistic sense of ennui — are written and arranged by men.

songs like "so many men, so little time" which proudly make all manner of boisterous claims to female sexuality are just fkt up lies written by men hiding behind their human props. but people don’t think that, they think, "YO! that woman wants to be fkt!" but it was really IAN LEVINE.

so we need to ask ourselves, did this fear of anti-semitism, for example, stop WHITE WESTERN OLIGARCHS from benefitting from the strategies presented? and why wouldn’t ANYBODY in china also read this text to gain a superiority over their enemy? why wouldn’t anyone who was infected with the taint of USURY not find this effective?

people in the U.S. study the book THE ART OF WAR, which is hilarious, as there is no such “art”. art has no FKING PURPOSE that kills people. it is the EXACT OPPOSITE OF ART. it should be called the "FKERY OF WAR and how to win". that would be more direct.

but i don’t hear everyone getting all up in china’s business and calling the nation a bunch of euphemistic hate slurs about murder and warfare. and rightfully so, it’s just a book and most people don’t care about books.

so if i get all up in the business of the PEOPLE who are using the book to murder and squelch the human spirit around the world, please don’t call me anti-semitic. and if i write essays about how parents are the very worst thing about children, please don’t call me anti-breeder. oh, wait, no, please do!!! i’m definitely upset with the way you people breed and then abandon your children.

and a note to all of you who think cheating is only an issue between you and your husband or you and your wife, maybe you should wake up to the fact that you’re cheating on your children almost more than your spouse. worse, your cheating will alter the entire development of your children whether they know it or not. the SICKNESS of your dishonesty will fester its way into the very essence of their personalities. and this is the sin that is spoken of that passes from “father to child”.

when jesus did his showdown with the men who were about to murder a woman for fcking around with other men against her husband, we are told that jesus started drawing nasty pictures in the dirt of the men and the fkt up stuff that they had done. one by one as the pictures emerged, the men judged themselves on what they saw and left.

and here’s where christians FK the story up as usual. they claim that JESUS forgave the woman. but this is not true. JESUS did not forgive the woman. instead he said the very worst thing you could possibly say — literally the most deviant thing of all to commission a human with — he said GO AND SIN NO MORE.

and to this day, when people ask me to forgive them, and i’m feeling generous, that’s what i say.

GO AND SIN NO MORE!!!!

why do i care about your sins against me? i haven’t held onto them. i have no forgiveness for anyone. i am not a christian. i am not weak and pathetic. i do not need salvation and i am not a sinner.

i am a gnostic. we do our best to NEVER lie to ourselves or others. we do our best to NEVER do things we hate.

that’s it. we’re not complicated. we don’t have agendas. we’re not out to sucker-punch you. we want to see GOD emerging from you as you are!

we carry love and intelligence. we believe that the GOD is inside of you (not that you are the god!) your job is to the let the GOD out.

that’s it.

but apparently the whole lying and cheating thing is too much for everyone (cheating is when you support a lie through omission or design a lie to be directly misleading, etc.)

personally, i find it amazingly exciting not to be able to lie or scurry sideways. it’s so EASY to lie. and once you start, why stop?

which leads us to the real essay about a man who went to an entitled school and designed a very remedial app that was chosen by the invisible empire to collect information and behavioral patterns from weak people who need attention. also known as FACEBOOK.

***************************

look how far we’ve come & ""CONGRESS MAN, YES" & several of the reasons why USURER’S LOGIC makes FACEBOOK the future press darlings of 2018", scott richard image and painting from 2012 (original photo from 2010)

PRESS PLAY

i love you, i know yello (1983)

an essay that cites TONS of quotes and incidents from the recent congressional meeting regarding FACEBOOK taking over the world and why you should have invested when i told you to invest… i did. just so proof would equal pudding.

(FYI the stock went up to 208 from 164 two weeks after this essay was written. it’s back down to what it was at that time again. facebook is spreading its profits into subsids now, so it’s not on my BUY NOW list. but if you can smell out the little geniuses facebook intends to buy, you might be able to find some juicy investments. i still believe that tesla will produce some kind of design innovation that will be purchasable for worldwide distribution…)

"CONGRESS MAN, YES" & several of the reasons why USURER’S LOGIC makes FACEBOOK the future press darlings of 2018 and beyond based on the CONGRESSIONAL HEARINGS + transcript notes and observations by scott richard

usury sucks for everyone. even those who profit.

and we don’t FIGHT USURY.

we fk it until it destroys everything around us.

FB means fk buddy, literally, not facebook…

anyway, i know from great and long experience that americans graft their identity concepts from the products and services they use and abuse.

you can’t go broke betting on the fall.

to not buy FACEBOOK stock would be like turning down a 50% off willy wonka chocolate bar that ALSO comes with a free golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

so while i listened and periodically watched the 5 hours of boring and often JUVENILE hearings, i couldn’t help thinking how clever deception really is. FACEBOOK does soooo many things that you have no idea about.

where did you think all that FAKE money was going?

and it was sooooo touching when a couple of the congress people dared to ask when mark would stop selling OPIOID DRUGS off FACEBOOK. he conveniently said, never.

but don’t worry, the u.s. sent it’s least qualified people to talk to FACEBOOK about this, lol.

i mean, the vast majority of these congresspeople were like children who have no clue about adult concepts.

for example, not one congressperson asked if those "privacy settings" weren’t hackable — as in something so FKING SIMPLE like "well, a hacker can hack past those infantile settings." instead, they gave zuckerberg the legal opportunity to talk-stall his way out of their four minutes. it was EMBARRASSING to see how stupid most of these congresspeople really are and how unlearned about important tech philosophy. most of them had no idea even what "privacy settings" were, so many spent their four minutes being "schooled". fking waste. that’s like sending me to the olympics for weightlifting…

so the first problem is that congresspeople don’t really know a lot about anything. in general, they are "OUT OF THE GD LOOP" when it comes to understanding worldwide things like the fking INTERNET!!??! they know a little about a lot.

anyway, each congressperson was given four minutes to ask zuckerberg questions about what happened.

the LARGE majority wasted these minutes with grandstanding. only a handful seemed to have an inkling of what the real reach and danger and anti-American stance that FACEBOOK has against the united states.

so instead of gathering relevant testimony and commitment from FACEBOOK on super important legal issues regarding citizenship protection and unethical information exchange, they paraded themselves for THEIR fake american constituent’s votes. it was DISGUSTING. how fking shallow bipartisan azzhoes really are.

instead of REPRESENTING AMERICA, they represented their own careers.

and honestly, every single person on MEDZ or overeating or over drinking these days is acting like an ANTI-AMERICAN. supremacy is also a form of ANTI-AMERICANISM.

we’ve reached a point where our daily choices are becoming ANTI-AMERICAN and in violation of other citizens’ rights to be free. but i guess we don’t see it clearly, mostly.

in the city, it is much more obvious. especially a FAKE SANCTUARY city like san francisco, the sanctuary is REALLY being given to the monied and the foreign investors, not the locals. it’s a FAKE moniker for investors, not a representation of anything more. but most people are like these congresspeople — out to get more votes from their base. but that’s not AMERICAN. that’s just regional self-interest.

thankfully, there were a few exceptions and those ones were AWESOME to hear. they were incredibly revealing. and it is clear that their voices are being thrown out. so that’s a drag, but you can’t really stop FACEBOOK. they are not a social platform. they are the world’s largest company and they fund TONS of stuff around the globe.

for example, FACEBOOK is going to have the largest WORLDWIDE "counterterrorism" team. already there team is competitive with world powers. soon, they will be larger than any nation’s.

now, those of us who are in the know, well, we KNOW that the COUNTERTERRORISTS are the real terrorists.

if you listen to the 9/11 commission report you would know this, too. or, if you listened to anything the islamic world is saying you’d know this, too. but i already know you don’t listen to those people.

doesn’t change the truth — the COUNTERRERRORISTS are the real terrorists.

so now FACEBOOK will be the leading force in this deception.

already they have over 200 people working full time in 30 different languages in counterterrorism.

if you don’t get what this means, you should go read my facebook farewell that i wrote about two years ago when i stopped contributing to the largest surveillance system ever built and used against humanity.

i had written a similar program concept in the 90s. it was called CYBERBUDDY.

the idea was you would input your info into a program (we call them apps now) that tracked your emotional and physical world by remembering everything you input and being able to remind you of things — how you felt about others, what had happened and what others had done to you.

and, as all the social media programs do, it would have a backside that was constantly selling your information to buyers.

but the user never knew this.

anyway, that’s exactly what FACEBOOK did. and let’s be honest, FACEBOOK was CHOSEN.

it’s not that great.

there were way better platform possibilities. but the world cartels needed something legit, so they chose the HARVARD-based platform. and it worked. they inserted the most deviant and self-revealing and WORSE betraying platform known to humans.

this congressperson is holding up a chart. it shows FACEBOOK’s profits.

they are escalating exponentially. from 1 billion in 2006 to 26 billion in 2016 and then WATCH THE FKING LEAP!!!!

40 BILLION dollars in 2017.

buy now. you won’t be crying later.

anyway, zuckerberg intends to have more than 20,000 people working on counterterrorism within a year or so. they are also building an endless array of surveillance and algorithmic tools that will affect ALL world trade. they are also deeply involved in ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE development.

basically, if you wanted an anti christ of jewish origins, you are looking at the rise of the kingship. but if you’re not scared and don’t go that way right away, dip into OVERHEAD STUDIES to see just how amazingly controlling all of this is when you also have KILL DRONES and security enforcement.

already OVERHEAD STUDIES are being used against the u.s. population to imprison us.

anyway, for most people this will seem crazy and like a new gibberish. so be it.

i started to take notes about a third of the way into process when i started to get a feel for how the "hearings" work. it was new for me, but i’ll post the transcript of my notes which are a lot of actual transcriptting.

the republicans are all for it and that’s why you should bet on FACEBOOK. especially since the majority of FACEBOOK’s users are and will be NOT from america. so our "opinion" of this is just that.

FACEBOOK is bigger than the u.s. government and for the record, the whole counterterrorism surveillance team works from outside the u.s.

where there are different laws…

okay, so here’s the transcript which i LAUGHINGLY call:

CONGRESS MAN, YES

because this is the tactic zuckerberg and his lawyers realized was the WINNING COMBO.

who knew congresspeople were so fking stupid? especially from the stupid states. geez.

no wonder so many extra-foreigners are making a bid at stealing so much of the united states’ property.

it must be fking easy with so many dum fks.

and to those congress people who used this momentous occasion to further their careers instead of protecting the american public, FKU!!!!!

*********************************

PRESS PLAY

no stars

figures on a beach

the partial notes:

CONGRESSMAN, YES

i would love to be a congressperson, but to be one, i would have to not understand any of this. so why are they “representing” us??!?!?!

zuckerbergs tactics.

agree with the person.

deflect away from the topic by using their weakness and lack of knowledge.

obscure the truth. pretend you’re not a MASSIVE CONGLOMERATE but a calendar site for connecting people’s lives HALLMARK.

once zuckerberg figures out how to run the clock down, he takes over everytime.

some senators (usually republican) have long winded and meaningless monologues followed by easy to answer questions of no importance except to wind the four minute clock down.

20K employees for content control.

some senators (usually democratic) try to get him to answer YES OR NO questions. his tactic for stalling in this case is deflect back to their misunderstanding of the precise language or meaning. it makes them look dumb (a lot of the are and don’t understand why FACEBOOK is such a walking/talking front for a secret information and collection agency as well as worldwide product mouthpiece)

the best questions take all four minutes and then zuckerberg can deflect easily. fk that!!!

NOT A SINGLE CONGRESS PERSON (well, maybe one, but he petered out oddly) got through their questions. most had MANY left and were forced to “submit” them for consideration. BULLSHIT!!!!

SMASHFACE his “prank” site.

"we’re getting ready to overreact”

we do nothing or we overreact!

you need to save your ship?

diamond and silk. african american women.

what is unsafe about two women supporting donald trump?

mr. schrader from oregon.

do you delete and save.

yes.. all things saved.

document retention policy.

preserve mails/conversations

testified that you don’t sell information.

but others do. aren’t you complicit?

"complaint only” enforcement.

kennedy democrat

wasted the whole time trying to explain himself.

“i’m sorry, i don’t understand your question.”

targeting options are shared likes. shared by facebook.

ad ranking. meta data. behaviors. newsfeed. relevancy vs. GIVING to advertisers.

how do people then “own” their own data?

then gets lost in the process and time runs out.

part of the rub

second you focus the individual instead of societal impact… you’re out of time.

but news and media. blah blah blah

mr flores. texas

large oil company monopoly 1800s 1900s

telecom company monopoly in the70s

thanks for being good.

wasted the whole time with a bizarre lecture.

conservatives are mad about BIAS.

they can’t see past their stupidity.

policy responses.

ideological agnosticism regarding their users public facing activities

finally, some questions. do you believe FACEBOOK SHOULD BE IDEOLOGICALLY NEUTRAL?

i agree we should be a platform for all ideas. [cuts him off and moves to next question. bam! yeah!!

with respect to privacy we need a baseline when we talk about a virtual person, name address websites visited, picture, etc. ownership issue is the individual’s creation.

they own it.

do you agree.

yes.

use of data issue and full disclosure for unlimited time.

easy understand.

runs out of time.

california

mr cardenas

biggest business model and totally unregulated.

shows shareholder revenues table

2009 net revenue less than a billion dollars

26 billion for 2016

40 billion dollars for 2017

CEO of cambridge analytica stepped down during the meeting.

does that solve the issue around the controversy.

no, two issues. how were they able to buy data from a developer that people chose to share it with? but some of the info originated on facebook.

people had it on facebook and CHOSE to share their AND their friend’s information…

question:

buy information to add or augment to build around them their profile.

we just recently announced that we’ve stopped working with data brokers as part of the ad system.

yes, standard practice.

you did engage in it.

yes. until we announced we were shutting it did.

facebook threatened to sue the guardian if it revelaed the cambridge analytica story.

hey maybe you don’t want to do that.

“there may have been an specific factual inaccuracy.”

however they did go through with it regardless.

then ONLY then did facebook apologize for 89 million users info ending up in other people’s hands.

‘

it’s time that you FACEBOOK want to be a leader and american you can be a leader.

are you committed to being a leader. you can in fact do right by users of facebook.

time’s out. two second answer?

"i am definitely committed to taking a broader review of our responsibility. not so that we don’t just give people tools but so they are used for good.”

first five or ten minute , ten minute recess.

5;40

TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES LATER…

mre. brooks indiana

platform of facebook and other platforms help keep us safe from terrorists and recruitment of women and children to join terrorist organizations.

facebook didn’t exist before 9/11

isis and al acaida use these platforms.

terrorism recruitment.

now terrorists use social media.

then you talked about dangerous or objectionable content needing to be reported but what if they don’t? what if people just assume that someone else is reporting.

what is the leadership role of facebook, our role in stopping recruitment.

thank you for the question. there is no place for that in our network.

we’ve developed a number of tools so that 99% of isis and al acaida is flagged before we even see it.

we’re proud of it as a model for removing "harmful content".

as of march 29th there were ISIS videos, executions,

april 9th five pages of hezbollah content

what is the mechanism?

is it AI

2-0K people?

what are you using.

this is just within a week.

counter terrorism team at facebook with 200 people.

other content reviewers not in the 200.

NCTC produces analysis, maintains the authoritative database of known and suspected terrorists, shares information, and conducts strategic operational planning. NCTC is staffed by more than 1,000 personnel from across the IC, the Federal government, and Federal contractors. NCTC’s workforce represents approximately 20 different departments and agencies—a tribute to the recognition by the intelligence, homeland security, and law enforcement communities of NCTC’s role in protecting the Nation against terrorist threats.

just focused on counter terrorism.

30 languages.

AI tools in development

proactively flag content and sources

owns wassap? .

how are they helping the to stop the recruiting.

WOW BACK TO THE ORIGINAL POINTS : WHAT THE FUCK IS FACEBOOK?!?!?

cue WILD WILD COUNTRY

correction plea: whether web blogs would be able to download your info. they are not we only store them temporarily. we convert them into ad inter

Posted by torbakhopper on 2019-11-12 14:45:35

Tagged: , manhattan , 2004 , archive , scott , richard , torbakhopper , san , francisco , california , city , street , photographer , scottrichard , SF , scottrichardphotographer , SFMET , new york city , NYC , new york

The post chambers patriot RIDDICK, scott richard 2004 appeared first on Good Info.

[exquisitelyeco]

Mirror, mirror on the wall, do I see myself at all?

Mirror mirror on the wall, Do I see myself at all? What do others, looking at me, What do they think, HOW do they see? Do I see who I really am, Or just the part of me that is a sham? Looking at others, what do I see, Is it love looking back at me? People, do they see me as I am, Or just the crap that leaves me damned? When I look at them, What do I see? Am I choosing the love, I want to look at me? This post is uncomfortable. Please only read this if you will not be offended. It is not meant to offend, as is, in part, a shade of the strand ‘An answer in part, Mr. Fry’ that I posted a while ago. Recently I was asked to do somebody a favour. They wanted me to meet some friends of theirs and spend sometime with them. I was absolutely furious. The people they asked were some who I knew had done things that made me angry. Actually, meet them? I wanted to batter them!

I was so uppity and frothing at the mouth with indignation, that I should even DARE to be asked! Now as you know, I am learning to be more honest and less people pleasing. So I am saying what I really feel, when I can. And thank God for His grace, that my church IS a safe place to practice! However….it does mean, certain poor people are in the firing line, of a missile! So I decided, how to respond. I emailed the person back, and told them, in no uncertain terms, that NOTHING would induce me to meet these people. That actually, one was, a cruel, sadistic bastard, and that if I had the opportunity, he would not get a cup of tea, but a boot up his behind. I said I would email one of the pastors of the church and ask their advice, and if, mind you IF, and I certainly did NOT believe so, they helped me to see this another way, I might be prepared to change my mind. Of course my poster emailed back. And I thank God, He had worked on my heart. Taking the crumb I offered, and that was all, that ‘if’….. Just like the wicked step mother in Cinderella……how relevant.....My pastor pointed out that we all have fallen short. And what if they treated people nastily, because they knew what they had done wrong? That if we want, we can bring Christ to people. And unbelievably, my spirit responded. Don’t get me wrong. I had to ask God. And nope, I weren’t on me knees begging! I just said, when it came into my mind, ‘You’ll have to help.’ In fact I was worse. I told God, “I’ll do it for you, not for them.” And I kept saying that. But something weird was going on. Although I had moments of not wanting too, and moments I could feel my heart harden in anger and condemnation, I felt almost joyful. Peaceful.

And God worked in me. Amazing! Truly amazing. I started to remind myself how I can be. How selfish, how sadistic and unkind. And I found myself saying sorry to God for thinking of pointing the finger. And then I’d feel the hurt of my past, threatening the visit, and I’d say, “I’ll do it for you, not for them.” But my heart wasn’t in it. Part of me wanted to be like Jesus. It was so strange. I asked my friends to pray. That I would manage well. I was so concerned I’d blow it, and hurt them, because of my froth! And when I met them, I did. Manage well, that is….not froth……In fact it was incredible! I found my self really enjoying their company, seeing God in them. Seeing who they were! And I want to see them again too! There was something really special about them. Today at church I was listening to the preach. And I remembered the words of a song: ‘I’m going to look twice at you, Until I see the Christ in you.’ How profound is that? It’s beautiful. If I had not opened my heart, even though it was just a tiny, teeny bit, God could not have filled my heart with love. And because of that, I looked twice. And I saw Christ, and it was truly beautiful. I was so glad my pastor, Susan, helped me out of my hissy fit. My mouth frothing indignation and self righteousness. And since then, I have recalled MORE horrid things I have done. And I dared point the finger at them! I truly see I nearly fell over one of my planks! (See my post ‘Planks,’if you want to know what I’m on about!)

When I think that God loves me REGARDLESS of all my shit. And there is SO much shit! And He loves me AS I am now! How humbling. How dare I condemn. I do not like what I have heard about this person. I know they have caused somebody pain. But I also now know, that is NOT who they ARE. How I judge who people ARE by what they have done! Sure, what we do matters. James in the bible said it very well. (James 2 v15-17) That if you wish your brother well, when he is hungry, but do not feed him, you are in sin. But he meant it a different way. He meant look at YOURSELF. Are you following the Lord and acting how He would? Because if not, you are in error and need to sort it out. In my own way, I was guilty of that. I would have said I wished them well, but buggered if I was going to help in anyway! I was in error, just as James said! I was sinning because of my hardness of heart and condemnation of a person. As if I was perfect! And what does God do? He blesses me! He changed my heart. My begrudging, judgmental heart. And He helped me to grow, even though I only gave Him conditional crumbs to do it with ‘I’ll do it for you, not for them!’ How humble is our God! He could have got mad at ME! And I also saw the truth in what measure we judge others, we ourselves will be judged. And yet God softened my heart. He allowed me to measure with HIS standard. No condemnation. And what blessing it had brought me! I have new friends. Special friends, who can give me life, and who I can give life too. And if God had condemned and judged my crumbs, what a miracle would have been missed. To think that God blessed me and helped me grow. Because I chose, albeit begrudging at the start, to want to, ‘Look twice at you, until I see the Christ in you.’ At that is part of me growing up. Learning to look past a persons past and actions, and to SEE the person.

That is what Christ does with us. Even more so! He is GOD, and with no sin, and He loves ME, who has more sin than is dumped in the Atlantic, or is it the Pacific, by the USA garbage ships everyday! No condemnation there US…..well, only a TAD! The oceans a bit muddy now…………..I am nobody. Yet the God of all creation looks twice at me. And He sees the Christ in me. The very breath of God that I was created to be, before all the sin marred, scarred and deformed my being. If I was Him, I’d probably vomit……But He has to truly be God, cos He doesn’t! My hardness of heart would not just have hurt them, and that is where God was so much MORE Gracious. It would have hurt ME. I would be blind and self righteous, behind my planks. Just like the Pharisees. But God, in His mercy, used my pathetic offering and changed EVERYTHING. I have had a double blessing! Good friends and a healed heart. How Good is my God? What I also saw today, was the words, ‘I’m going to look twice at you, until I see the Christ in you,’ I also need to apply to myself! I have times I loath myself so much. I hate myself and want to hurt and punish myself. And God doesn’t want me to do that. He hurts when I do that. But for me, it’s a battle not too. I HATE thinking Im fat. So I will not eat properly. But more, I beat myself up, over and over, when I make mistakes. I judge and condemn myself. And Jesus is unhappy about that. He wants me to see me as He does. In Him. The person He created me to be. That’s a battle. Because a lot of me doesn’t want too. I want to hate me. I want to control me and MAKE myself do things. And you know what? It’s killing me. So I need to learn to love me. What blew me away was how much meeting those people meant to THEM. I could feel real love. For ME. They thought a I was special. Why? I was horrible, until my pastor helped me see my planks. It shames me to think of it. And it makes me so grateful that God softened my heart, and gave me something that I did not deserve. Love and friendship. I can never get over it when people say they love me, or I’m special. Because I so don’t see it in me.

Although my pride does. My pride is a swine. It cuts both ways, pride in what I do and pride in the fact I’m upset at have pride! I’m proud of my pride! I tell you pride SUCKS. Know wonder God hates it. It’s like a snake, totally intertwined in my being. Tying everything into it’s self. Aren’t I wonderful? No. Well aren’t I wonderful for saying I’m not wonderful? For FUCK sake! Fucking pride, damn it!!Its a blood sucking leach. Sucking out my Christ blood and replacing it with MY own! IAM! I CAN. I WILL. Nope. And not bloody lightly thanks. I understand what Paul said about the thorn in his side, to stop his pride. I wonder what that was? Interesting…….a facial tick? You know like the one in the film, Planes, Trains and Automobiles, when they meet Owen? And he honks like a pig? Or bad breath, so people nearly passed out when he spoke? What about a wind problem? Every time his head went to swell he blew off? Well, I guess the swelling pressed against his pipes! Ooooh, I do hope I don’t get one of those! Thorns I mean. But I need one! Me think this sucks☹️ but ’tis necessary for my salvation! Oh no! Well, what if it’s a nice one? I mean, I can cope with say, ummm, not a twitch. Embarrassing. Definitely NOT wind. I’d never get to heaven…….I’d have no pride, cos I wouldn’t go anywhere….., I’d hide and be windy in private! I have a feeling God doesn’t do nice thorns. I mean, that IS the object of a thorn, I suppose. But it really does suck. But in one way, it was a form of pride that I thought I was righteously able to point the finger at the people I met. And yet, Gods grace turned me around! And I didn’t feel that prick! Well, not till I thought about my own shortcomings. And that made me sorry. Maybe God can do my thorn without it being embarrassing! I do love Old God! He has so much on His plate. But He used every little spat out prideful, self righteous crumb, to help ME! And I spat the crumbs! Wow! He HAS to be God to do that. It’s mind blowing! Thanks God!

So maybe thorns are things we see in ourselves. Reminders that it is God who makes us clean and restores our being. It has to be! I’m my own bloody thorn! Maybe that IS my thorn? Or is that self hate…….ummmm…interesting. My pastor, Pete says that. The word, ‘Interesting,’ I wonder if he’d say that if I said that? I mean about me being my own thorn? It’s a thorny problem to say the least……