#but acting on fear before this regime takes office ...?

[fernsehn]

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[boricuacherry-blog]

In 1949, after a year of study, he returned home and joined the Force Publique, the colonial army. He rose to the rank of sergeant major, the highest available to a Congolese. In 1956, he returned to journalism and politics, working on news0apers and magazines in Leopoldville, now Kinshasa.

In 1958, he joined the Mouvement Nationale Congolais, a political party founded by Patrice Lumumba, a left-leaning nationalist; the party's program was independence for the Congo. A year later, rioting broke out in the colony, and the Brussels government abruptly decided to grant independence. Little had been done to prepare for it - out of a population of about 15 million at the time there were only 16 university graduates.

In January 1960, a conference was held in Brussels. The question of independence had been decided, but the details had to be worked out to determine whether they wanted a strong central government or broad regional autonomy. Lumumba favored the former; representatives of the copper-rich province of Katanga, now called Shaba, favored the latter.

Having been jailed for agitation, Lumumba could not attend the meeting. Mobutu went as his chief representative and successfully argued for a centralized regime. On June 20, 1960, Belgium transferred power to a coalition government in which Joseph Kasavubu was president, Lumumba premier and Mobutu defense minister.

Eight days later, the army revolted and turned on its Belgian officers. On July 11, Katanga seceded under the leadership of Moise Tshombe. Subsequently, secessionist movements arose in Kasai and Orientale provinces, and the Congo was plunged into a crisis that seemed to confirm the worst fears of Africa's friends about the continent's ability to govern itself.

For Mobutu, the situation provided a road to power. He gained it by exploiting disputes among his rivals. His first opportunity came less than three months after independence and involved Kasavubu and Lumumba. Lumumba was a member of the Tetela ethnic group and growing up he was a part of the educated elite, called evolues.

Over the president's (Kasavubu) objections, the premier (Lumumba) appealed to the United States for help in ending the Katangan revolt; when he was refused, he turned to the Soviet Union. Moscow responded with arms and money.

Meanwhile, the CIA station chief in Leopoldville cabled Washington that the Congo was "experiencing a classic communist effort to takeover the government. Whether or not Lumumba is actually a commie or pretending to be one to assist in solidifying power, anti-West forces are rapidly beginning to increase power in the Congo and there may be little time left in which to take action and avoid another Cuba." He was authorized to take steps to protect U.S. interests.

In August 1960, the United Nations sent a military force to the Congo. European mercenaries assisted Katanga and Tshombe, while the Congolese army, brought under control by Mobutu after its mutiny in June, made up yet another force. As the summer wore on, Lumumba prepared to oust Kasavubu; on Sept. 14, before he could act, Mobutu staged a coup and announced that all politicians had been "neutralized." Lumumba fled the capital. Two months later, he was caught and turned over to Tshombe in Katanga, and, in February 1961, he was killed. In the communist world, he was revered as a martyr; Mobutu and the CIA were implicated in his death. With Lumumba out of the way, Mobutu turned the government over to Kasavubu, who installed Cyrille Adoula as premier. The succession in Katanga lasted until 1963 and ended only after a war between U.N. and Katangese forces during which Tshombe fled to Spain.

In 1964, however, Kasavubu fired Adoula and persuaded Tshombe to return to the Congo and take the premiership. The former leader of Katangese independence now became a champion of the central government with the responsibility of ending revolts in the eastern Congo. But he soon found himself at odds with Kasavubu and was dismissed in 1965.

On November 25, 1965, Mobutu intervened again and led the bloodless coup that put him in power for nearly the rest of his life in the country he renamed Zaire.

[nelsonmandeladay]

Mark the 100th anniversary of Mandela, who was born on 18 July 1918.

“Apartheid represents today the vilest form of modern slavery. UNESCO's patient but tenacious and vigorous action ties in with the struggle of the South African blacks themselves, who have shown that with the courage of revolt they have discarded fear and regained hope. If the international community is to remain true to itself, it must mobilize and act firmly in order not to disappoint that hope.” This is what Prisoner number 466/64 of Robben Island, Nelson Mandela, read in the Courier, under the very noses of the watchful agents of the police state that was apartheid South Africa. With this article, the Courier marks the 100th birth anniversary of Nelson Mandela, who was born on 18 July 1918.

It was President Mandela himself who recounted this in September 1996 to the then Director-General of UNESCO, Federico Mayor, in Union Buildings, the President’s Office in Pretoria, during Mayor’s official visit to the new democratic South Africa.The President explained how pleased he and his companions had been to read the Courier, through which they had learnt about so many subjects they had never encountered before – such as cultural diversity and mankind’s common heritage, African history, education for development, and so on. These subjects did not exist in the apartheid lexicon, let alone in the solitary confines of Robben Island. Reading the Courier was a way of learning about what was happening in the real world outside. Nelson Mandela was keen that UNESCO’s Director-General was informed of this. I had the privilege of accompanying Frederico Mayor on that visit. As I listened to the President’s words, my mind tried to take in their meaning and significance. The Courier, so aptly named, was the carrier-pigeon that flew regularly from Paris to a remote spot in the middle of nowhere in the southern Atlantic Ocean – bringing news and ideas from the five continents to Mandela and his colleagues, under the very noses of the watchful agents of the police state that was apartheid South Africa. Knowledge and ideas grow wings when necessary.Apartheid: no escapeRobben Island was the South African Alcatraz, an island penitentiary from which there was no escape for the black common-law convicts who were sent there for life. In the 1960s and ‘70s, as the struggle against apartheid strengthened and spread, the island became the place where the racist government sent its most serious political opponents –also for life. In reality, the island was a prison within-a-prison, for the principal jail was mainland South Africa itself. Here, the white minority settler community was locked inside its paranoia about its own racial superiority over the indigenous population. Every aspect of existence, both private and public, was governed by racist laws designed to oppress and denigrate the black majority for the benefit of the white minority population, which was privileged in every way.In so doing, the ruling class claimed to be preserving and promoting "European values", in keeping with their self-styled "civilizing mission" in Africa. Ironically, they themselves were complete strangers to those values – for they had no understanding of concepts such as liberty, equality, democracy, fraternity, values for which the Europeans themselves had fought, across the centuries.Indeed, UNESCO and the entire United Nations system were born out of just such a struggle – a decimating war against Nazi racism which had brought the world to the edge of the abyss in the Second World War. In 1945, the lesson was learnt that "never again" would the nations of the world allow such horrors to happen. At UNESCO, these countries decided deliberately to “build the defences of peace in the minds of men” (see UNESCO’s Constitution), by sharing and expanding human knowledge in all its aspects, especially through the areas of education, science and culture.The apartheid regime, however, learnt a different lesson and chose to go the opposite way – to promote separation, exclusion, deprivation, humiliation and violence. For those citizens who dared to question and challenge this backward ideology, the punishment was banishment for life.Cover of the UNESCO Courier, November

[mbb-project-entity]

Chapter 37

Francis was working out the logic but couldn’t focus and said “Yes”. At that moment his life shifted, and instead of being married to a brilliant doctor he had married a whore who was also more intelligent then him, and since Jayjay’s IQ was 68, Francis’ IQ dropped to 67. The light of brilliance left his mind and he looked dumbly at Jayjay as she pumped her pussy and tits.

Dawg smiled and continued “So Frank, is it true you work out at the gym all the time and take loads of steroids to pump up?” To which Frank frowned, he couldn’t understand much, but he knew the word Gym and answered “Ya” and at that moment he morphed into a massive bodybuilder frame, loads of veins popping out. Dawg looked at his new creation and said “Frank, is it true you never went to school, you are illiterate and can only do what you are told, since you are too dumb to do anything else? Basically you are a cleaner and heavy that pimps use to scare clients?” Frank didn’t understand much, and was so focused on his bitch pumping herself that he grunted an approval. At that moment all his past shifted, and Francis the scientist was now illiterate ignorant Frank that grew up on the streets near the whore house where he fell in love with Jayjay the whore. The pimp allowed them to get married so long as Jayjay controlled her man, and Frank followed orders. He was given expensive steroids and a strict diet and workout regime to follow so you he could grow into a massive bodybuilder, but not for competing, for acting as beef in the whore house. Dawg told Frank to sit down and play with his 12 inch cock while sucking on one of his wife’s tits, and then waited for the children to appear.

While waiting, Frank came ten times, he never came ten times in his life before, and now he came ten times in under half an hour. He loved it, his mind reeling at every intense ejaculation. His balls hurt, but it was a good hurt and he continued to pump his cock as he sucked on his wifes nipple. her heavy tit made his arm bulge and strain, and he felt the veins on her tits pulsing strongly as he sucked.

Fifteen minutes later a knock at the door and Stanley’s head appeared in the doorway, “Hi Mum…I came as fast as I could, and Clara is with me.” He then walked in and stopped in shock, there was a big titted slut pumping herself next to a massive bodybuilder that was pumping his huge cock while sucking one of the ginormous tits, milk dribbling down his chin. Clara pushed to see, and nearly screamed, but Dawg silenced her mind as well as Stanley’s. He ushered them in with a mental nudge and they both came into the office, closed the door behind them.

Stanley recognized his mother and father facially, but was too shocked to understand what he was seeing, and Clara was crying when Dawg asked them to quieten down. He then reduced their fear levels and raised their curiosity and started to question them as well. “So, Stanley, I will start with you. Obviously you have a lot of questions, so perhaps ask first.”

“What the fuck is this? Who are these degenerates?”

“Good question, I have one for you, in fact its for both of you, I will answer your question with a question. If these two are married and have children, is it logical to suggest that their children would be as dumb, slutty and physically oversized as these two?”

Clara nodded, and said “OMG, yes…yukkk” and Stanley replied a curt “Yes, its obvious.”

At that moment both of them morphed, Clara became a younger version of her mother, sporting massive ZZ sized melons, covered in the usual pock marks of drugs as well as tattoos and piercings, and her eyes went from an intelligent lawyer to a 68IQ illiterate dumb whore. She started to pump her pussy and pull her nipples just like her mother, making her father get even hornier. Stanley’s morph was similar to his fathers, and instead of a genius level doctor, his IQ dropped to 67, his body expanded out even larger then his fathers, and he became a professional bodybuilding sex star with a 12 inch and thick cock that he would use on his sister in their porn site managed by their pimp owner.

Stanley immediately grunted in satisfaction and pulled Clara to him, he pumped his cock into her cunt and started to fuck her in front of Dawg.

Dag laughed, and then asked, So “Stan, is it true you are so dumb that you need your sister to tell you what to do all the time otherwise you just sit down and play with your cock?” Stan grunted a yes, and at that moment his entire life changed completely with the physical, he was now his sisters cock whore and she used him on their movie set. Dawg sealed this by asking ZZ, Clara’s new name that reflected he massive tit size “So ZZ, you are so dumb you are only good for sex movies, is that correct?” ZZ was so engrossed in her cumming orgasm she grunted out a yes too and that sealed her fate.

The once vibrant and successful family was now a family of beasts, where two male bulls were pumped up with steroids and used as bouncers of sex movie studs. The women were now both slut whores, the older Jayjay was now used as a cheap fuck for migrant workers and the younger ZZ was used in the sex movie industry.

He looked at Jayjay and asked, “What’s it like being a dumb whore? Is it better than being a genius doctor? Either Jayjay or Dr Jill Jane?” Jayjay tried to focus on her memories, but the thought of being so dull as a doctor conflicted with the constant impulsiveness of her new body and the dullness of her mind and said “Jayjay luvs Jayjay, me no like clever, me luv dumdum”.

Frank looked up, and said “Me like me now, big muscle, big cock, always cumm….unnnnghhh” and he came again���to which Dawg realized that humans would prefer to be dumb animals than intelligent beings. The life of a dumb animal is freedom, unshackled from complicated thought and only requiring sex and gratification. Dawg was going to continue with some of JayJay’s colleagues but decided that he had enough for this day’s experiment. He called up a local pimp that was once a judge and told him to come and collect his new acquisitions. He made sure the pimps reality included them in his whore house stable.

Just before he was going to leave, he asked Stan “What’s it like being so dumb and horny all the time?” To which Stan looked up with his dull eyes and said “Me want to be doctor, me luv clever.” Dawg looked at him and was about to answer when ZZ grabbed Stan’s cock and sucked it, as Stan was about to explode Dqwg asked “Are you sure”? To which Stan suddenly realized how amazing he felt and just said “noooo….me dumb bum, me luv my cock…and bicep too” Stan flexed a massive bicep and kissed it as he came. His mind folded into itself and resolved that life could not really get better than being a dumb muscular beast of sex, being cared for and not having to think anymore.

Dawg left the room just as the pimp arrived there were many gasps from people as the four were led out to a waiting van. Two thin dirty looking whores with tits bigger than their bodies being carried by two massive bodybuilders with bulging pants, all four dribbled from their mouths as they were escorted to the van and were driven away, never to be seen again in that hospital or in that area. They were only going to be seen online or by their clients.

As for the circle of relations, the retrovirus in Jayjays body wasn’t dormant, one of her colleagues had recognized her face, and before she entered the van Professor Mary Wit touched Jayjay and was about to ask her a question when the retrovirus that as spread across her body from her constant pussy pumping stabbed into Mary’s bloodstream through a paper cut on her finger. As the virus was fast acting, her mind shut down and she felt giddy. Thinking she had a low blood sugar attack Mary walked to her office, but the office was far and her body was changing. Before she reached her room, her body morphed from fit five seven athletic frame into a soft fat five three frame, with tits that hung over her belly, her nipples were two inches and long and thick and her lips puffed out into a constant pout. As she was changing her mind was burning up and instead of a 150IQ she was reduced to a 68IQ all of her knowledge erased, but her past had stayed the same, she had all her memories intact. So when she finally reached her office, she was about to scream when her hand brushed her nipple and she came with the most intense orgasm of her life, it actually made her faint. Her clothes no longer fit and as she woke up, she started to pump her itching pussy, pulling her massive nipple and tit, she orgasmic over and over again and continued doing this for five hours until her body needed food and water. She lay in a puddle of her own juices, and the door opened. In stepped one of her students, a young brilliant minded Asian exchange student. Tran looked at the creature on the floor, and was about to call for security but noticed her face looked too much like Mary’s. with confusion he closed the door and stepped towards her, as he approached, Mary put her hand up, it was covered in pussy juices and some of it flicked into Tran’s mouth. The changes were instantaneous, Tans body morphed into a massive bodybuilder frame with a 12 inch cock, his mind devolved to an IQ of 67 and looking at Mary, he literally pulled her up and fucked her on the spot,

 jumped into his mind and stopped him, I decided I had wasted enough of my time, and totally changed his past from a bright student into this new son of an ignorant slut whore, he never went to school, but instead of drugs went to the gym, and sucked cocks to earn money for steroids. He became a steroid junkie and grew muscles so big it was hard for him to move. Being bisexual and with a monster cock that could cum 10 times a day, Mark’s new life revolved around sucking cocks, fucking women for sex movies and especially pimping out his dumb mother and fucking her daily. In fact, when Mary want fucking on the streets, and when Mark was not in the gym or sucking cocks, he was fucking his mother.

Marks mind clouded over and all his memories were erased and replaced with new ones. His body also transformed in front of Mary’s eyes.

Mary screamed as she saw her successful lawyer son transform into a massive bodybuilding steroid pimp. His cock grew to 12 inches and thick. His intelligent look was replaced by a dumb leer, and he gave his mother a box of cigarettes since she had forgotten them when she went to the hospital.

I asked Mark a few more questions:

Q. “Hey Mark, who is this woman?”

A. “dats my bitch, I fuck her all da time..huh, who you?”

Q. “What else do you do with her?”

A. “I orgy on cam with her, and suck cocks, even 10 day…fuck”

I looked at Mary, and winked. Her intelligence dropped to 90, and her past became a haze, she had vivid memories of being a successful doctor with a successful lawyer son mix with the memories of her being a dumb slut whore with a muscle bum son that fucked her for hours every day. What she loved the most was watching him suck another bodybuilders cock while she sucked his balls and a third one licked her constantly wet and dripping clit…they all came together. This was done at least ten times every day, filmed and online to make them money for their constant sex and drug haze.

I left them to it, and visited a year later. Mary was totally in love with her dumb stupid self, and loved her big cocked dumb son that came in her daily. In fact, when I resurfaced her memories and intelligence she begged to be turned back. Life was so much better being dumb, even Mark loved being able to cum 10 times a day and worshipped his own muscles as much as others.

Well, that’s one story there are more…some more sinister, others, lighter. Maybe one day I will visit you, and yes, I know that makes you cum!

[abumbledbee]

Tubbo and Wilbur’s Parallels

tw/ mentions of death / suicidal ideations

“If I can’t become the next Schlatt, then you can’t become the next Wilbur.”

This is a quote from Tubbo, given just before the exile arc began, when he was arguing with Tommy. Tommy accused him of acting like Schlatt because he was putting the nation's needs before him. Tubbo, offended at the comparison, reminds Tommy that he is acting irrationally, and is reminding Tubbo of Wilbur.

When we speak of parallels between Tubbo and Tommy with Schlatt and Wilbur, we’re often inclined to compare Tubbo with Schlatt, because they worked together so closely during Schlatt’s reign, and the complicated relationship between them which ultimately ended up with Schlatt having Tubbo lose a canon life for his betrayal. And due to Tommy and Wilbur's close relationship before and up to Wilbur's betrayal, it's easy to draw comparisons between them as well.

But I think we often overlook a lot of similarities between Tubbo and Wilbur that are worth delving into more, and the farther Tubbo goes with his character the more comparisons I keep catching. At this point I think Tubbo's character parallels Wilbur's far more than Tommy's does.

Wilbur was the founder of L’Manberg, and its first president. It’s a nation he built from the ground up, which started as nothing more than a front for his drug lab but grew into something bigger and more meaningful than Wilbur ever planned for. While on the server he found love (?) and had a child, Fundy, and then things began to get rocky as they fought for their independence against Dream.

Ultimately Wilbur fails to protect L’Manberg and their independence is bought by way of Tommy sacrificing his discs in return. Wilbur ends up losing his country by way of being exiled when Schlatt wins office, and we watch his descent into madness as he realizes how much he cared for the country and how no matter what he does, what it once was is gone forever in his eyes. The Pogtopia arc originated with Wilbur trying to come up with a plan to secure his presidency again and to reclaim his country. It ends with Wilbur refusing his original role and ultimately destroying the very thing he created along with himself because he couldn’t bear to see what it or himself had become.

In Wilbur’s darkest moments we see them play out on screen, his button room is one of the most iconic scenes we got during this period of the storyline. Wilbur in an enclosed space, surrounded by the signs reminding him of what L’Manberg once was and what it would never be again. He's hounded by his thoughts, his mental state shattered and he no longer believes there's any other course of action.

Ultimately this is his final resting place, the room where he sets off the TNT that destroys L’Manberg for the first time. He begs his father, who had just arrived to the server because he was worried when Wilbur stopped sending him letters, to kill him. And Phil does.

L’Manberg’s story does not end here, despite what Wilbur did. It begins again, with Tubbo and a crater. We talk about Tubbo being president of L’Manberg as though he was just taking on the role and a nation the way Schlatt did, but in reality, he founded it again. Tubbo, along with Phil and others, REBUILT an entire city on the rubble of its former life. Tubbo’s L’Manberg is in fact nothing like Wilbur’s, except for the parts Tubbo purposely recreated, like the camar van.

The major difference in their takes on presidency is that Tubbo did this for Tommy, for Wilbur, for the original citizens. He took on the role of President out of duty to Wilbur who passed it down to him when he felt unfit to rule again. He did his best on behalf of everyone who fought on Pogtopia's side, to reclaim a nation they all had lost. In the end he lost it one final time, chunk errored by way of Phil, Techno, and Dream.

And from here on we see a new Tubbo. The bright-eyed, president-elect is no more, and instead he begins to isolate himself from the main server. He retreats to a snowy biome separated by water, and builds a house and gives it a name. Snowchester. Now, most people wouldn't give just a house a name. Even from the start Tubbo was creating a new community, without even realizing. Eventually Snowchester grew to be a legitimate colony of its own, with Jack Manifold, Foolish, and Puffy all moving in and setting up shop. He declares independence, and in doing so, decides he must ensure it any way possible. He's seen what happened to Wilbur's L'Manberg, how helpless the other man was in keeping it safe. He knows he failed his own L'Manberg, and he will not let it happen again.

He hatches a plan with Jack, and the answer is.... Nukes. A bomb, in other words. But instead of using it to destroy his nation, it'll be used to protect it. Tubbo designs it, and they ensure it works with a test launch before decommissioning the remaining two. Time passes and eventually, he's opening up to people again. Tubbo marries Ranboo and they adopt a child together.

Suddenly it's not just Tubbo, it's Tubbo and Ranboo, Tubbo and Michael, and then Tommy is gone. It's shocking, and unexpected, and he doesn't believe it at first. He's been so beaten down under Schlatt's regime he no longer openly shows his emotions, the closest we get to seeing his true grief during this time is when he stares at the memorial he just finished for Tommy in Snowchester. Then comes the anger.

He wants to know how this could've happened, he tries to investigate it, but before he can get too deep into it, Tommy's back. Revived, and Tubbo has had to experience losing him and gaining him back again twice now. Inevitably, like with most of Tommy's plans, Tubbo is roped into his next one. And it's a doozy. Tommy reveals that he wants to kill Dream, to ensure he can never revive anyone else, and Tubbo reluctantly accepts.

One of the most troubling moments during his investigative time was when he made a room for him to fill with his notes and evidence. At first glance it is deeply reminiscent of Wilbur's button room, the walls covered in signs and his lectern in the middle of the room mimicking the button. Because Tommy returns before he can get further in his investigating we'll likely never see this room again, but seeing him make it to begin with filled me with unease.

Tubbo has lost his fear of death. It's first noticed at Doomsday, when he defeatedly jumped in front of Techno's rocket launchers over and over again. We see inklings of it again and again, such as when he scoffs at his chat begging him not to investigate Techno for the TNT at the prison, saying he'd die. Tubbo just replies with "So be it." and continues on. We see it again when he and Ranboo investigate the Eggpire and get caught, and he continues to fight with them until he's only got a few hearts left. He mentions feeling exhilarated, full of life from almost losing his last. It's a reminder of the violent life he's had til this point, his time in the SMP filled with war and bloodshed since the very beginning. He's not afraid to fight despite being on his last life, in fact at times he seems almost ready to end it all.

Yesterday's lore stream was unsettling in a few different ways. The first being Tubbo casually mentioning how his eyes play tricks on him. It's a throwaway mention towards possible hallucinations or paranoia. He also refers to himself as paranoid later on when he's worried someone's hurt Michael, and it bothers him so bad that the next minute he rushes over to ensure Michael is safe. He is willing to do whatever he must now, to ensure Michael can grow up safely, much like Wilbur wanted for Fundy, with no Dream to terrorize the server any longer.

Wilbur's initial wish for L'Manberg once it was fully formed was for it to be a nation his son could grow up safely in, with all the possibilities at his fingertips, until their independence was threatened and he had to focus on leading an army instead of being a father.

But even more upsetting than that, is Tubbo's admission to how he designed the nuke. He tells Jack after one is stolen that there is a manual detonation option, a dead man's switch. He designed the bomb to have a suicidal solo detonation option as a last resort, so if he ever needed to use it and Jack wasn't there he could take matters into his own hands. Tubbo was so ready to ensure if something happened to his self-made colony he could deal his revenge even at the cost of his final life. His reasoning for making the nukes was not for self-defense, it was so he could finally take a swing back at whoever took from him again. He'd seen L'Manberg destroyed twice by people who initially sided with it, had 2 canon lives ripped from him by way of betrayals. He might not have thorns on his armor but by god will his death have them, and heaven help whoever is on the receiving end of his suicide-start nuke.

This mimics Wilbur's final steps but from the logical, more level-headed mind of Tubbo. He's created a bomb, a weapon of destruction he's willing to die with. Wilbur wanted to die with L'Manberg, Tubbo is willing to die for Snowchester.

[starforgednegativespace]

Part Four: The Crimson Commonwealth

Reverie station made its slow orbit around the dead gas giant Sepulcher, its enormous, wheel shaped form slowly revolving a matter of kilometres above the toxic gasses which made up 95% of the planet. At its core, Sepulcher was a solid mass of mineral rich iron, laced with deep veins of silver ripe for mining. Whoever controlled Sepulcher controlled the sector; and Vlada Ikaro controlled Sepulcher.

Ikaro was the great-granddaughter of the founder of Ikaro Corps, a man named Ayako Ikaro. Ayako was a proud and strong young family man when the environmental cataclysm on Vanessa threatened to turn the world into an uninhabitable desert. When the gangs arose and began persecuting the locals, Ayako banded together some like-minded family and friends and fought back. For a blood-drenched decade, Ayako's Ikaro Corps grew from a band of locals defending their territory against lawlessness into a strong criminal enterprise, feared across Vanessa and its surrounding moons

Ayako's youngest son, Kei Ikaro, took the throne when his older brother Takashi was assassinated by the Wraiths, a rival group from the system. Kei embarked on a ruthlessly violent crusade against the much more powerful Wraiths, pulling off the seemingly impossible; defeating the larger, wealthier criminal group. As tribute, Kei took Yelena, the youngest daughter of the head of the Wraiths, Viggo Salvi, as his wife. In victory, he united the Wraiths and the Ikaro Corps into one vast criminal empire known across the system as the Crimson Commonwealth. In rebellion, a splinter group of Wraiths split off, but their few ships and handful of pirates posed no threat to Ikaro.

Kei Ikaro was killed in his sleep four years later by Yelena, then only nineteen. Yelena raised their one infant child, Vladov Ikaro, to lead the Ikaro Corps with Yelena acting as regent until Vladov was old enough to take the reins.

Vladov's interest grew outside of the smuggling, raiding, racketeering, prostitution and murder of Ikaro Corps' past. He invested in mining and science, purchasing legitimate businesses, research stations, orbitals ; donating to planetary politicians and defending the Church. The Crimson Commonwealth's influence and power grew drastically over the next forty years, until Yelena Ikaro had Vladov assassinated, seizing regency of the Ikaro Corps once more in lieu of Vladov's only child, Vlada.

Vlada did not make the mistake her father had. At 16, she had Yelena's supporters within the Corps murdered and in a show of cruelty and brutality not seen since the rule of Kei, Vlada Ikaro had her grandmother publicly tortured for days before execution. So began the reign of Vlada Ikaro, and a new heretofore unmatched era of expansion, conquest and brutality for the Crimson Commonwealth. Now, fifty years later, her greatest achievement had just been snatched from under her.

Vlada was almost seventy years old, but the best healthcare available in the forge and a punishing regime of fitness, combined with her regular use of age-defying drugs, cosmetic enhancements and experimental surgeries (the latter a boon of her father's push into scientific research) meant she looked and felt no older than forty; only the greying of her jet black hair gave any clue to her true age. Seated on a plush office chair facing the full wall vid-window which usually showed Sepulcher in its vast, red glory, she sipped at the cocktail she held in one slim hand and unconsciously tugged a loose thread of the black silk robe she had slipped on after the call had interrupted her bath.

The vid-window showed the sweaty, nervous face of Arnov Slater, one of her lieutenants in charge of the docks at Reverie.

"What do you mean, nothing?"

Arnov swallowed hard. "That's what Fixer said, your grace. The gunship Tormentor docked from Animus under an hour ago. Fixer claims the team carried out the hit on Shepherd as per your orders, but a thorough sweep of her home and offices came up with nothing. No information on the vault. Fixer brought all her info disks back for deep study, but he said, not a thing."

Vlada winced

"That's not possible. Our contact assured us Shepherd was researching it, using my silver and my resources. "

"I can only say what Fixer said. They also rounded up all of Shepherds subordinates and brought them back for debriefing".

Vlada smiled. They would be debriefed, alright. Until every inch of skin was flayed from their bodies...

"There is... one other matter" Arnov continued. "Possibly unconnected but... well, the team took some losses, on account of meeting with some resistance..."

"I assumed they would" Vlada interjected quickly. "Shepherd may have been a traitor, but she was neither weak nor a fool."

"I think it's best you hear this for yourself, your grace."

Vlada watched as Arnov, hands shaking, plugged a recorder jack into some port of his console and pressed a button. A waveform opened on the vid-window screen, the name 'Coil' attached to it. Vlada had no idea who Coil was, but she assumed they were part of the kill team. The jittery, distorted audio began to play.

'It's Cutter! She's with Shepherd, I've found Cutter- KZZKZK '

The cocktail class slipped from Vlada Ikaro's fingers and shattered on the marble floor of her office.

"Cutter?!"

"I checked our records, your grace, and Cutter matches the call sign of a rogue courier we -"

"I fucking know who Cutter is, Arnov!"

Arnov went silent and deathly pale. "Cutter. Cutter..." Vlada mumbled. "Little Kiri Quint. Shepherd, you traitorous snake. To betray me and wound me with this insult..."

Arnov cleared his throat.

"Your grace?"

"The disks will be useless. Whatever information Shepherd had is on Rune Song now. Animus is three days jump from here, and knowing Cutter, she's jumped in the opposite direction." Vlada exhaled heavily. "I want a survey team at Animus in three days, take our largest hauler. Find that vault whatever it takes, bag it and bring it back here for testing"

"Your Grace, you want us to... move a precursor vault? That's never been attempted."

Ikaro's lips pursed very slightly.

"Bring. It. Here."

"Yes, your grace."

Ikaro dismissed Arnov with the faintest motion of a finger, and the vid-window returned to the expansive view of the Jovian gas giant. She stood, ignoring the shattered glass, slipped the robe off and pressed a secondary com control on the am of the chair.

"Yes your grace?"

"Have the maid bring another drink to my bath chamber and clean the mess in my office. Then I want you to dispatch kill teams to every Waypoint, Planet and Station within six jump days of Animus; target is Kiri Quint, call-sign Cutter, vessel name Rune Song. No outside agents, just our people."

"As you wish" the buzzy reply came.

"Oh, and in..." Vlada pondered "Thirty minutes, have Arnov Slater arrested and executed."

"As you wish".

Vlada clicked the com off, neatly folded the robe in her arms, and returned to the ornate bath chamber attached to her office. As she slid into the hot, rejuvenating water she closed her eyes and grimaced. Cutter had resurfaced, and whether she knew it or not, she had the means to make Vlada the most powerful warlord in The Forge. Two birds, she thought. One bullet.

[cinemaisfemale]

Every day starting from February 24 feels like a month. I want violence to stop. I want peace for the people of Ukraine. I'm scared, maybe very selfishly, for myself and my family. I'm scared of what it would be like to be a lesbian in Russia in the months and years to come. A lot of people who had reasons to be scared for their personal safety fled Russia but I don't have the money. And I fear that soon there will be no means to leave the country anyway.

Only on February 23 I wrote a letter to the prosecutor's office in Komsomolsk to stop criminal charges against Yulia Tsvetkova (you can read about her here, here and here if you are interested in what it was like to be different here even before all the recent events). After February 24 I signed a change.org petition and an open letter from Russian lawyers (I'm a lawyer) asking our government to stop military action in Ukraine. I wrote to senators asking the same. I was all torn up about the fact that I was scared to do more. I felt like such a coward. And now after they passed the bill about 'fake' news I am scared that even me signing letters and writing to representatives and government bodies will be cause enough for administrative or even criminal charges. I deleted all posts from social media and chats with friends that might be incriminating under new laws. I felt very humiliated doing so.

Now one of my biggest worries is that my mom will be unable to buy the medicine for blood pressure that she needs to take everyday. She has enough for three months. What will happen in three months I can not begin to guess. I hope the supply of medicine to Russia will be renewed.

My biggest hope in all this is that I will stay myself. That this fear and panic I feel will not make me betray myself, my principles, my beliefs, that I will not let the regime to break me, to change me into something I will be ashamed of. I do not support the actions of my government. I have never supported them. Maybe I did too little about it because I was scared, because I was weak. But I feel it crucial to save that last bit, my core self from being corrupted by that fear. They still can not police our thoughts and our beliefs and I am still determined to act as my conscience tells me not as my fear tells me.

I allow myself only a limited amount of time a day to feel sorry for myself, to panic, to be angry at people with power who destroyed millions of lives in one day by their cruel decision. And I spend the rest of the day trying to be as productive and as reasonable as I can be. All my feelings will help nobody (not me, not my family, not people who are being killed, beaten and prosecuted) if I let them consume me. Today I spent that time I allow myself to feel scared writing this post.

I have this stupid habit to process life through the lens of books, film and tv. And these days I think a lot about Aimee & Jaguar and Circumstance. Like this is my future. Maybe even the optimistic prediction of my future, because the main characters of these films were happy at least for some brief moment. And I don’t feel as brave and smart as Jaguar.

But I also remember one of my favorite moments from Buffy in season 2. When Angelus says: “No weapons, no friends, no hope. Take all that away, and what's left?” and Buffy answers “Me”. And I try to find that inner strength in myself, I still have me and I know who I am.

Do not reblog, maybe I will delete this post later.

[namenoted]

YAGAMI HEADCANON MASTERPOST: a collection of all my old metas and headcanons into one concise, neat post so i can make new ones without having to go back to this nonsense again

japanese is his first language.

while his own relationship with the world around him is complex, yagami definitely is seen more as an object than a person. he’s the model student and has formed his entire persona and image around that unbreakable force. he truly believes he is above other people, that he is perfect, and has had an entire life’s worth of praise solidifying that. he can go entire days without feeling much of anything, save for this rising disdain of the world around him. he’s an extremist living in an extreme world / but also a world of inaction, of stagnation, and of fear “for better”. he finds himself lacking empathy for those he seems unworthy, but has a strong desire to be a savior for those that are (as he deems) innocents to the world’s cruelty. where the justice system falters and fails, he feels he will not, and he will use that system to his advantage. he thinks he can literally do it all / he can be everywhere he needs to be, satisfy anyone he needs to, fulfill any duty required of him, and not just be a jack of all trades, but a master of them.

FRIENDS, SOCIAL RELATIONSHIPS: yagami actually has a pretty normal, vibrant friends group. none of them are particularly close, more a convenient source of blending in given his popularity and tendency to receive positive attention.

this trend continues from middle school through university. it isn’t hard for him to make friends and acquaintances, especially if he finds the people that compliment him well. he makes a bit of an effort, keeping the connections stable and viable. he laughs with them, goes over on occasional saturday nights, calls them up, and sometimes even goes to the arcade. while it’s all an act, and he finds little enjoyment out of these activities, he does them anyway.

DOMINANT HAND: yagami is fully ambidextrous. he can write easily with his right or left hand, but typically is seen using his right hand. he switches when studying, keeping his hands from cramping too much when he takes notes. he loves fidgeting with things … pens, erasers, bottle caps, etc. he constantly clicks the tops of his pens and often will click out all the lead in his pencils without thinking about it.

ALSO: it allows him to always hold hands with someone and write at the same time ((:

WATCH: yagami’s watch was originally his father’s watch; it’s nothing special, not necessarily a family heirloom, but his mom gifted it to his father when he first became an officer after graduating from the police academy. when he was younger (8 and below), yagami would often find it and wear it around the house, pretending to be his dad while dressing up in some of his other clothes. after yagami graduated high school, his dad gave the watch to him as a present for entering university.

SWEETS: yagami refrains from sweets in part because he prefers savory, salty snacks, but also because too much sugar makes him break out. obsessed with looks, he’s learned his exact limits before his body will react negatively. he also has a very specific facial regime to keep him looking as fresh, youthful, and handsome as possible.

CELEBRITIES, IDOLS, POP CULTURE: you can tell yagami is pretty out of touch with social trends / pop culture which we find out directly after he meets amane misa. after their first encounter, he has to look her up online to find out she’s an idol despite the fact that she’s relatively well known. misa is considered a huge idol in japan, and being an idol is a big deal. her seeing him is actually a big deal, which him keeping it private is actually more common than the desire that misa has to instead have a more public relationship. ironically his method is a little more respectful to her career, and more expected of an idol. all that aside, and a little off the cuff but still on topic ( sort of ) ,  misa is also on her way to being mega-famous. after the intermission and into the entrance of arc 2, we see that misa was scouted and accepted for the role in a hollywood film ( a convenient excuse to go to cali with yagami! ), and has seemingly shifted her focus from model to actress. a shame he puts her in and out of retirement. sayu is definitely the source of information that yagami gets about what’s going on in the world of idols, celebrities, and other entertainment news. their interests are definitely varied, though yagami indulges because she’s his sister … even though he doesn’t know who she’s referring to more than half the time ..additionally: he only knows ryuga hideki because of his sister. he knows that L was spying on him of course, and him using ryuga hideki’s identity is just an extra blow as if to say i’m watching you, yagami; i’ve always been watching you.

ROMANCE, SEXUALITY, RELATIONSHIPS: yagami’s sexuality as i write him is bisexual but closeted with a female leaning preference. this isn’t something he would openly tell his family, especially on edge about what his father would think of him. his parents are expecting children out of him, envisioning him with a wife and kids as he pursues his career goals. there’s no room for experimentation.

he has a complicated relationship with women, although he is attracted to them. his attraction to men and women individually means something entirely different to him, and he primarily only acknowledges his attraction to women.

what he truly is ‘attracted to’ differs a lot over what he socially dates to make good appearances. he dates women like takada kiyomi because she’s smart, brilliant, and should be made for someone like him.

yagami is shown often using his charm and sexuality to the advantage of his cause / to keep those around him enamored with him. this behavior displayed heaviest with those closest to him such as misa, kiyomi, and mikami.

he finds this primarily effects his relationships with the women in his life more than the men, who instead he tends to be more competitive with. this competitiveness with other men is partially what keeps him so closeted, unsure if maybe part of him just enjoys the thrill of the competition, of winning, and of being ‘the best’. through middle school, yagami didn’t have a lot of males his age he found attractive due to their immaturity. he had a few stray interests in high school, but still found a lot of his peers to be subpar, female and male alike. as he went into college and subsequently graduated, yagami began to find not only a new competitiveness with the men around him, but also a higher attraction.*

his entire life has been built on this inherent sense that he is desirable and he is wanted, but that he’s also an object to be utilized at the interest of others. he is often fine with being ‘manhandled’ as seen in the series particular by his female companions, and his only male companion for the time being on screen ( in a non romantic sense ) is L, who he actually has physical confrontation with. interestingly enough he has mentally threatened to use violence with his own hands against the women in his life ( naomi, misa ) , but has only gotten actually physically with the men in his life. as the series goes on, the entirety of his thoughts are consumed on keeping his ‘regular life’ going so that everything can go into being kira.

he insists in arc 1 that his relationship with misa is not romantic, and while he still displays this disinterest, he begins having that relationship desired of him … not just by misa, but also individuals like matsuda who encourage yagami to have this connection to misa as her boyfriend / lover. yet as early as arc 1, which he even proclaims, yagami has multiple affairs. he doesn’t seem attached to a monogamous lifestyle, constantly using and depleting the resources of others, disrespecting their love of him ( be it devotion to kira or actual interest in the man that is supposed to be yagami raito ) . even when misa says she ‘won’ against the ‘other girls’, he still plays kiyomi’s heart, as well as pitting the two women against each other.

yagami acts as a direct conflict in the ability of the women in his life to create any sort of true sisterhood. his interest in interpersonal relationships that do not directly involve benefitting him, or benefitting his cause, are deemed as non-important. he never has a chance to explore any parts of himself past a 17-year-old senior in high school, identity fully becoming wrapped up in kira.

on a small tangent —— i don’t think yagami even knows what his type is outside of liking a challenge. there is no set personality type he would go for to actually date out of emotional need or desired connection, or even a sexual partner for actual pleasure. everything he does is for a direct purpose, usually to look good which decides who he ‘dates’. he doesn’t like that misa is famous, though maybe it wouldn’t bother him if he didn’t have the death note … but would she be interested in him if he didn’t have it??

*let’s just also acknowledge he really isn’t thinking about relationships that much past what they can offer him or what he can get out of them. being kira really stunted yagami’s ability to have any self-discovery as all relationships are now out of necessity and circumstance, not out of genuine self-exploration and personal vested interest.

EMOTIONAL CAPACITY AND OBJECTIFICATION: while his own relationship with the world around him is complex, yagami definitely is seen more as an object than a person. he’s the model student and has formed his entire persona and image around that unbreakable force. he truly believed he is above other people, that he is perfect, and has had an entire life’s worth of praise solidifying that.

he can go entire days without feeling much of anything, save for this rising disdain of the world around him. he’s an extremist living in an extreme world / but also a world of inaction, of stagnation, and of fear “for better”. he finds himself lacking empathy for those he seems unworthy, but has a strong desire to be a savior for those that are (as he deems) innocents to the world’s cruelty. where the justice system falters and fails, he feels he will not, and he will use that system to his advantage. he thinks he can literally do it all / he can be everywhere he needs to be, satisfy anyone he needs to, fulfill any duty required of him, and not just be a jack of all trades, but a master of them.

HAIR, HEALTH, AND PERSONAL HYGIENE: yagami has brown hair and brown eyes. in the manga, the rest of his family is presented with black hair, while yagami is presented (in colorized versions and by the shade of his hair in the black & white manga) to have a medium brown. his eyes are also colored medium brown. in the anime, his father is shown to grey from probably a medium-to-dark brown, his mother is a brunette and his sister has a very similar shade of brown hair to him. this was probably done to show their characters as being related to yagami, the main character. since it’s common practice in japan, and has been for a while, it’s probably pretty safe to say he dyes his hair to achieve that medium brown. his eyes are probably closer to a darker brown realistically. not super important but just a fun fact.

he spends a lot of time time and his allowance money on grooming. he showers daily, washes and moisturizes his face twice a day, takes many supplements, and does weekly face masks as well as different serum treatments for the areas most prone to get wrinkles. he does hair treatments, as well as regular exercising to keep his body at top performance and his looks as perfect as possible. he learned early that athleticism is attractive, but intelligence and his physical appearance / the ability to be as clever as he is handsome were far more useful to him than riding off a tennis scholarship … no matter how much fun he actually had playing, and how competitive it kept him. he’ll do a weekly run through his neighborhood, making sure to be seen, and is often known to have good track marks in his gym class.in his last year of middle school, yagami had bleach blond hair before settling with the medium brown/milk tea color we see him with throughout the series. with his naturally tan complexion, he finds it looks the most natural.

FAVORITE BOOK: beyond good and evil by nietzsche, he first read it translated to japanese in 9th grade and it had a large impact on him, and inspired him to search other texts both within japan and through international sources as well. he finds comfort in the connection.

FAVORITE MOVIE: he found battle royale to be very thrilling, but prefers usually foreign films. he liked let the right one in from sweden, though he also read the novel. not a genre that usually takes him, but he found the concept well delivered and very suspenseful with an impactful message. he also found blade runner to be very good at questioning morality and humanity, as he had to watch it for an assignment.

FAVORITE MUSICAL PIECE: he really enjoys the sound of the shamisen, it’s just very traditional and relaxing; he used to also go to festivals and listened to a lot of live music ……. but in the likes of feeling rather worldly, he would argue he enjoys chopin’s works the most. classical music is non invasive, as is other instrumental, and when he isn’t studying in silence, there’s a dull tune in the background that can be hard.

FAVORITE PAINTING: Sansui Chokan (Long Scroll of Landscapes)

SHARING POWER ( AS KIRA ): YAGAMI ISN’T WILLING TO TRULY SHARE THE TITLE OR ROLE AS KIRA, or at least not for very long. when misa first appeared as the ‘second kira’, the amount it bothered him was far more visceral than he had anticipated. had he expected a copycat? maybe an attempt, but never at that scale. so: that made her a massive liability, and kira cannot afford a liability. while he’ll utilize few close people to his advantage to act of his accord, ultimately being kira belongs to yagami —— and yagami only.

even without his memories, he was obsessed with the idea that he could be (probably was, definitely is) kira. how the real kira’s ideals aligned with his more, so this must be a fake kira, but he’s not kira, the real kira was controlling him … but what if —— it’s pretty clear that being kira, or the identity of kira, has basically seeped in the fiber of his being, or what you might call ‘the soul’ ( i guess?? ) .

he’ll do anything / basically everything to get rid of almost anyone to ensure his reign and everything he’s worked for is successful. this will be seen through fully to the end. he’s hyped himself on this vision and idea: who else could have done this? no one else would have taken it all the way, and he does take it all the way to the very end. so … he’s pretty confident. he’s got eyes on everyone, and is not easily deceived. he’s thinking steps ahead on every outcome he can fathom and further, but he’s also got his sights set on current events and learning from past mistakes. he won’t give his location so easily next time, he won’t let that man follow him for long ( despite that actually being a huge part of his undoing ironically, but you get the picture ). it’s hard to be deceived by anyone close to you when no one is really close to you.

kira’s kingdom only has room for one god / one holder of the pen & sword. mikami ended up being too extreme, even for yagami, and misa continued to be a “convenience” post-L’s death, but the way i see it, the second arc stretches a lot to continue the series, and i think he would have been more quick to the chase to cut those loose ends and fully swing the world into the ‘dark ages’ as they’re called before support for kira becomes the majority rules.

[ninjakasuga]

Sonally Celebration, Year 3, Day Seven & Eight.

Sonally Celebration Week, Year Three, Day Seven & Eight: Slip & Rest.

Due to work wearing me down some I took day seven off and combined both prompts together since they can work nicely together. I had a blast again this year, and maybe I can muster the drive to get my solo-writing back on track, as well as get back to some hiatus’d RP’s I owe people.

Slip & Rest:

Setting her stylus pen down, Sally’s eyes glanced over the proposal she had finished penning on her tablet device. Once she was satisfied with the outline, and it’s concise word usage, she manually saved the document, and then had it sent to each of the Acorn Council members to go over, and give their input before they agreed on a finalized draft to implement. “Done, and done! Nicole, what's next on the docket for today?”

Materializing from one of the many holographic emitters through the castle, Nicole the Lynx appeared. Sporting a rather nice looking lavender, women's business suit. With the dress shirt under the suit jacket a lovely cream-pink. Hands folded, she smiled at Sally as her eyes closed briefly. “Absolutely nothing else! You’re finished for the day!”

Sally blinked, and looked at the clock at her desk, “How can that be? It’s only two o’clock, I should have more work until four or four-thirty. I could have sworn I had a remaining proposal to look over-.”

With a simple wave of her hand in a dismissive gesture, Nicole interjected politely. “You did, but I delegated it, as I did the rest of your itinerary.”

Flabbergasted, Sally pushed back from her desk, but remained sitting. “W-why?! Why did you do that Nicole? Some of those documents could use my oversight!”

“Yes, but also no. None of them were documents that couldn’t be looked over by the right delegate who is knowledgeable of the topic. They will have to cross your desk again, but for today others can do your work.” Hands now behind her back, Nicole’s smile faded, her expression now mild disappointment, and also full of concern. “You’re starting to overwork yourself again, and above all else, you’re still recovering from your ‘slip’.”

Grimacing, Sally looked down at her right leg, which was in a cast. “I’m sitting down, and off of it-.” “Doctor’s orders were to elevate it as much as possible. You can’t do that at a desk.” The Lynx stated in a firm, chiding manner as she moved closer and eyed the leg in question. “Why aren’t you doing this from bed or a couch at least?”

Sighing, Sally dragged a hand over her face. “Because, I get comfy, and I want to rest, I start to let my mind wander, or get nap-craven…”

An amused expression crossed the cyber-lynx’s face as she steps closer and places a hand on Sally’s shoulder. The nanites in her hologram made her body solid so she could do so. “That’s what you get when you don’t get enough rest. Your body will eventually start to remind you it has needs.”

Whining a little, a rarity from Sally unless she was ‘tired’. “I just have so much to do-.” “You have people to delegate your workload, myself included.” Reminded Nicole with an all-too-familiar tone of playful snark. “Sally this isn’t the war, you don’t need to take the world on your shoulders.”

Running a hand through her hand, Sally sighed again. Deep down she knew Nicole was right, but she had her reasons for being hyper-focused on certain aspects of work. “I know, I know, but after what happened in Spagonia last year, I wanted to hit hard on stemming any further diplomatic issues that have cropped up since-.”

The hand on her shoulder softly squeezed, empathy deep in Nicole’s voice. “I know you’re worried about a repeat of the kidnapping. Nor have any relations with other countries soured over bad diplomacy; but the whole incident was staged by a handful of greedy jerks.”

 “Greedy jerks, with a lot of pull, and a decent sized following of morons who bought their spiel, hook, line and sinker.” Sally reminded Nicole, shuddering as the memory of the whole incident made her heart clench in terror. The fear of someone wanting to hurt her babies to get back at her never truly left her. “I can’t let that happen again, ever.”

“None of us want it to happen again. That’s why we made those bracelet watches with two of my A.I.’s to be with them at all times. Whisper and Tangle are their new bodyguards and they’re among the best, and you and Sonic have been teaching them to defend themselves. In fact…” Nicole gestured to Sally’s leg. “That’s how you got that, you got over-zealous showing them some of your moves.”

A blush formed on Sally’s cheeks, going up to the tips of her ears. After the kidnapping incident, both Sonic and she wanted to start the children learning some basic self-defense. They made it a full family event with all four of them practicing, and the kids were really receptive. Then again, they always liked to see their parents show off for them, and neither Sonic nor she could resist those eyes, and pouty lips for too long.

So Sally decided last week to really show off some of her acrobatics. Even after all these years, a lot of it just came back to her, even the skills she rarely used since the war (she did keep up some of her training as an exercise regime) she found herself slipping back into use without too much catch-up practice. However, Sally was now over thirty, and was a bit more… ‘filled-out’ since her teen years. So during one wall-flip and somersault onto another surface maneuver, she miscalculated and ended up landing on her one leg, the wrong kind of way.

Luckily the break wasn’t bad, but of course Dr. Jolene had insisted on bed-rest for the majority of the next month, and to stay off the leg as much as possible. For the first two weeks, Sally obliged the order; until the itch to crack at her work got the better of her. Deep down Sally knew she was being somewhat unreasonable, but she couldn’t just be lazy all day when things had to be done!

Realizing she’d been silent for a time, and Nicole was looking at her with curious concern. Sally shook her head. “I'm well aware of how my leg got injured.” Hands on her desk, she stood up, making sure to lean on her good leg, and not let go of the desk. Reaching for her crutches, she managed to slip them under her arms and eased from the desk. In such a quick motion, Nicole didn’t have a chance to offer to help her with them. “In anycase, even if my other tasks have been delegated, I can still stop by the Council Chamber to-.”

Having had her fill of indulging the notion Sally might listen to reason and ‘rest’, Nicole decided to act and clapped her hands. Instantly she was connected to the intercom of the library. “Sonic, your lovely wife is trying to hobble out to the Council to work when she should be resting.

Eyes wide, and panic setting in, Sally glared at the Lynx who just smiled widely. “Nicole you traitor!” She turned to try and ‘hobble off’, but she could already hear not one, but three ‘booms’, followed by the sound of fast footsteps. Sally could only make a ‘meep’ sound as the door to her office flew open, and there stood her husband and children. “H-hey you three, you didn’t need to interrupt afternoon reading time. I was just seeing myself-.”

Sonic didn’t say a word, he simply crossed the distance, and instantly scooped Sally into his arms. Carrying her just like he always did. “Save the excuses for the Doc, you’re going back to bed. No work, at all. Nicole hun, can I count on you to do your thing?”

“Always my main Hog.” She smiled ever widely, nodding and with a bow, her physical form dissolved as she rejoined the castle’s nanite-network to go about her duties.

Wiggling in Sonic’s grasp, Sally puffed her cheeks, trying to look miffed, but only made herself look like a petulant child. “I can move on my own! I have crutches!” “Denied babe, kids, can you pick up the crutches for me?”

“Yes Dad!” The two seven year olds each grab and crutch and heft the item. The two lay their gazes upon their mother, practically mimicking their Father’s disappointment.

“Mama…” Kathleen puffed her cheeks, and attempted to intensify her glare. “You’re supposed to be resting!”

 As they followed their Father into the hallway, J.C. began to count off as he joined his sister in roasting their mother. “Doctor’s orders, Dad’s orders, Auntie Nicole’s orders, Aunt Bunnie and Uncle Twan’s orders-.”

“I know, I know!” Sally threw up her arms, admitting defeat, if not entirely in a graceful manner. Arms crossed she grumbled as Sonic carried her, she looked to her husband. “Isn’t carrying me a bit much?” She seemed to get more antsy about this fact, than her family putting her in the spotlight.

“Nope.” With a foot he kicked the door open softly, yet swiftly.

“...Aren’t I heavy?”

“Still nope.” Sonic eyed his wife, taking notice of his wife’s look of self-consciousness about the weight comment. “Hey kids, can you do me a solid?” He turned his head to regard the apples of his eye, smiling all the while.

“What can we do for you Dad?” Asked J.C. as he set the crutch he had carried against the wall. Something his sister mimicked as they both gave Sonic their full attention.

“Zip to the kitchen, and if Miss Cream’s there, ask her to whip up some pasta, garlic bread for dinner, and whatever else you two want. After you’re done, go and play, I got Mama from here.”

“Are you sure Daddy?” Kathleen raised an eyebrow. “Mama can be wily.”

He chuckled, gosh the kids were picking up those fancy words their Mama liked to use. “She can, but I can be more, that word you used. I got this.” He smiled and winked at the two children.

After a beat, the two children shared a look. “They’re gonna be gross.” Kathleen surmised after a moment. “Probably.” Her twin nodded, and the two rushed out of the room, making sure to close the door behind them. “Sheesh, us gross?” He grinned at Sally as he brought her to the bed, carefully settling her into her side. “How slander’in can you get? By our own kids!”

Unable to help herself, Sally giggled, lifting her leg as Sonic fit a pillow under her cast-laden limb. “Well to them, us kissing and being cuddly can be seen as gross.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, gazing at his beautiful wife for a moment. Soaking in the view before taking her hand into his. “Something up Sal? I mean besides you not taking bed-rest orders, why’re you so touchy about me picking you up? Do you really think you’re heavy or something?”

“W-well…” The blush returned, from her neck to her ears. As those emerald eyes gazed upon her she looked away. “W-well I am, thicker than before-.” “Sal, it’s called having kids. Even I know most women have some ‘thicc’ added afterward. You’re still gorgeous as ever, plus you still work out, and keep in shape.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the last person I’d consider fat hun. Why did someone accuse you of such?”

“No, no this is entirely on me. I’ve just noticed it more, at how ‘thicc’ I am as you’ve put it. Plus without being able to work out due to my leg, it’s like...I just notice so easily when I’ve gained weight.” She rubbed her arms, feeling so vain about being worried over her figure or weight. “I just, wonder if I was off my jump that messed up my leg because of all this extra weight on me…”

“Ahh, I see…” Sonic still felt she was being silly, but he knew he shouldn’t dismiss her concerns either. Kicking his shoes off, he rounded the bed and climbed on from his side so he could sit next to her. Slipping his arm around her waist he leaned in and rested his cheek to hers. “Sally, sweetie, trust me you’re still fine as ever. That said, I could ask the Doc if there’s some exercises you can do without your legs, and we can ask the cook staff to give ya’ mostly light meals until you’re well enough to exercise properly again.”

“I think I would like that…” She murmured, leaning into him and enjoying the contact.

“As for your weight being why you got hurt… We’re both getting older, but Sal, babe, lookit me.” Once she did he leaned in, kissing her softly. “Just cuz’ your hips, boobs and thighs are a li’ thicker than before. Doesn’t mean you still aren’t looking after yourself, you keep in shape, and well… babe, last year you tore through a buncha armed idiots with just a sword, boots and fists. None of em’ laid a hand on you. You are not losing your touch.”

“I guess, I am being a bit silly…” Sally was still not entirely convinced, but it was nice to hear Sonic’s words. Sure he could charm and butter up anyone if he tried; but she knew him well enough when he was BS’ing. Now wasn’t the case. “Although I could argue you are biased.”

He merely grinned. “So I’m biased, I happen to enjoy being biased toward the woman I married.”

“Good to know, though truth be told.” Nuzzling his cheek, Sally peppered him with soft kisses. “I’m rather biased toward the wonderful man I married.”

After the two embraced again, Sonic leaned back and gently booped her nose. “Now if you’ll just relax and get some rest…”

“I get it, I get it, I know when I’m licked Sonic.”

His eyebrows waggle, “I haven’t done any of that… yet.” A laugh tore from her throat as she lightly smacked his arm. “Sonic!! Hahaha, oh you’re terrible!” “I dunno, you didn’t complain last time.” Arms reclining behind his head, the hedgehog clearly enjoyed his wife’s laughter at his admittedly naughty commentary.

“N-no, I didn’t…” Snerking, Sally shook her head, fighting another blush on her cheeks. “I’m sorry I’ve been difficult, I just… I feel compelled to see things through myself.”

“I get’cha Sal, still, relax, rest.” He insisted as he eased her against her pillows. “I’ll rest with ya’.”

“Going to keep an eye on me, huh warden?”

“If the shoe fits.” He shrugged, his infuriating smile remaining on his face. 

With a dramatic sigh, Sally reclined against the pillows, arms up as if she expected to be cuffed and hauled away. “I submit myself to the court.” “Just be sure to repeat that, as the kids are just as concerned as I am.” He stated playfully, going for one last dig. A bit low, but he wanted her to contemplate on that.

“Ouch… right, ughh.” She dragged a hand over her face. “I probably haven’t been setting a good example for them…” Knowing her children, they would milk that for all they could.

“Eh, I can’t be the only one giving em’ bad habits.” Sonic conceded with a mild shrug, before wrapping his hand over hers. “Now, how about we just lie here and chill here until supper is ready?”

Smiling softly, Sally squeezed his hand. “It’s a date, Sonic.”

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

THE BASTERDS’S ANGELS

Somewhere in a safe place in the French countryside, a group of armed men prepared themselves for the mission they were sent for: killing Nazis and sending fear through the ranks of the Wehrmacht based in France. 

And until now, they managed to accomplish their work, as the German soldiers only knew them as The Basterds. 

Led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine, those volunteers took pleasure in killing and terrifying their foes, as many of the Basterds were Jewish. 

Looking at his men, Aldo smirked: he could not wait to hunt down new Nazis. 

"I know that look. Looking for new scalps, darling?"

Smiling, he turned and saw the woman he cherished the most. 

"You know me too well, honey."

"That's why we're husband and wife!"

"Ya damn right, Winona."

The woman named Winona was, indeed, Aldo's wife. Born in the Cherokee tribe, this woman was the embodiment of the Native American female warrior: athletic, wise, loyal, and brave.

Moreover, she was the only woman in this group. Some people would think that a woman had nothing to do in the U.S. Army.

But quoteth Donny, "She kills more nazis in one day than I kill in three days."

The Cherokee woman has already won the respect of her peers since the first day in France. Besides, she gained a gruesome reputation among the Nazis based in France. They called her "The Cherokee Amazon."

The Apache and the Cherokee: a match made in heaven who took their enemies in hell...

Aldo put his arm around her shoulders:

"Can ya believe it, honey? You and I, in France, killing fascists... How pleasant it is!"

"I agree."

"It's like our honeymoon!"

Winona laughed at this statement.

"Well, a very blood-thirsty honeymoon. But honestly, I would never imagine killing Nazis without you, Aldo!"

"Aw, sweetie! Ya know how to talk to me!" he grinned before kissing her.

A sweet moment interrupted by the booming voice of Donny Donowitz, aka "The Bear Jew."

"Aw, look at those lovebirds!"

"Damn ya, Donny! I was enjoying this moment!"

"We have noticed!" smirked Wicki.

Raine rolled his eyes but smirked. His men are the best among the best, especially when it comes to killing Nazis.

They all came from different backgrounds, had various faiths, but for sure, they were more than ready to wipe out the Third Reich. 

Of course, among his men, there was Donny Donowitz, a sturdy chap from Boston and the other leader of the group. This man gained the nickname of "Bear Jew" after he bashed the skull of dozens of Nazis with his prized baseball bat.

Then, you have Wilhelm Wicki, who fled his native Austria after the Anchlüss. Probably one of the oldest members of this group, his remarkable marksmanship made him a feared sniper.

Sitting next to Wicki was Hugo Stiglitz, a former German soldier. He hated the regime to the core, and he managed to kill 13 Gestapo officers. The Basterds get him out of his jail, and now, Hugo became one of them. More silent than some of his teammates, he easily scared people around him.

Near them, a young man was quietly reading a book, enjoying this peaceful moment. This young man was Smithson Utivich, another Jewish-American soldier. Like his friends, he enrolled in this group to save the remaining European Jews from Nazism's clutches. Even if he was not the most impressive, he excelled at killing Nazis.

The one next to Utivich, who was taking a small rest, was Omar Ulmer, his best friend. A remarkable soldier, Private Ulmer often works along with Smithson and Donny during his missions. Fast and efficient, the Nazis did not stand a chance against him. 

Not far from Omar, his friend Gerold Hirschberg was laughing with his comrades. Hirschberg was considered a loyal and cheerful friend by his fellow Basterds. However, his hot-tempered character made him the official trouble seeker of the group, as he often found himself in danger.

The other man talking with Hirshcberg was named Michael Zimmermann. He has the two roles of driver and explosives expert. The Germans muttered that he was a crazy man who escaped from an asylum. But the truth was that Michael only became mad when he saw a swastika. But for the Basterds, he was a pleasant companion and a joyful friend.

Sitting at his right, his best friend named Simon Sakowitz was tidying his medical stuff. Before the war, he was a brilliant medicine student, but he decided to put his studies on hiatus to enroll in the army. Simon was a skilled and efficient doctor in his group and also an appreciated friend.

Smoking a cigarette, Andy Kagan smirked while looking at his teammates. The young Mister Kagan came from a wealthy family and started a promising acting career in Hollywood until he decided to rescue his people in Europe. He was the spy of the group, a master of manipulation and charm. 

Leaning against a tree, Archie Hicox looked at his allies with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement. This British officer was the last addition to the group. In the beginning, the MI5 spy did not get along with the Basterds, as he saw them as a bunch of crazy rednecks while the others considered him as a snobbish man. But the more they worked together, the most they trusted each other, and mutual respect started to settle between them.

All those men were here in France for one reason: killing Nazis.

Something they excelled, as they did earlier, as they exterminated an entire patrol an hour ago.

Now, they enjoyed a moment of calm to relax before reaching another town. 

Suddenly, Aldo gently stroke Winona's cheek and said:

"Get ready, my lady. We're gonna move!"

"At your orders, Mr. Raine!" smirked the woman as she started to pick up her belongings.

Smiling, the Lieutenant turned to his men and exclaimed:

"Get up, boys! We move!"

"Uh? What? What's going? Are we attacked?" asked Omar, startled.

"Nah, Omar. The Lieutenant just said we're moving. Get up now!" explained Donny.

"Where are we going?" asked Simon.

"Probably somewhere near Fontainebleau. At least, we have to get closer to Paris," replied Utivich.

"Exactly, Smitty! I hope I will have time to pay my debt off once we got there!" sighed Zimmermann as he finished packing up his stuff.

As he picked his backpack, Hirschberg noticed Hugo, who trimmed his knife in his bag. Smirking, the young Basterd came nearer to his comrade. A little game that Andy and Wicki had noticed.

"Oh my Lord! Here we go again! Will Hirschberg never learn his lessons?" sighed the Austrian.

"I wonder how it will end this time: will Hirschberg have a kicked butt or a broken nose?" smirked the American.

Meanwhile, Gerold was close to Hugo and said with an authoritative tone:

"C'mon, Stiglitz! Hurry up! We have to go!"

The German deserter turned and glared at his teammate:

"Lass mich in Ruhe, Hirschberg."  (Leave me alone, Hirschberg).

"Why do I fear the worst?" sighed Simon as he pinched the bridge of the nose.

He counted how many times he healed the bruises on Hirschberg after the latter tried to pick up on someone stronger than him.

At the same time, Hirschberg teased Hugo while the latter tried to contain his anger. But his patience was running thin... 

"Ich werde es dir nicht zwei mal sagen." (I won't tell you twice).

"Aw, come on! Don't look at me like that! I am trying to tell you that you're a bit slow!"

"Stop that, Gerold! You're going to regret it!" smirked Andy.

Indeed, Hugo was pissed off by Gerold. Fuming, he took his knife and put it on Hirschberg's throat.

"Leave me alone. Now!" growled the German man.

Gulping, the young Basterd raised his hands in defeat.

"O-OK, Stiglitz. I stop. Can you lower your knife, please?"

Growling, Hugo put his knife back in his vest while Gerold ran away.

"We told you that you're going to have trouble, Geri!" snickered Michael.

As for Wicki, he turned to Hugo and asked:

"War es notwendig, Hirschberg einen Schrecken einzujagen, Hugo?" (Was it necessary to scare Hirschberg, Hugo?)

"Er ist eine Nervensäge." (He is a pain in the ass.) snarled Hugo as he walked towards Donny and Omar.

Wilhelm rolled his eyes and muttered:

"Ich schwöre bei Gott, die würden mich wahnsinnig machen!" (I swear to God, they would drive me crazy!)

"C'MON, BOYS! WE HAVE A LONG ROAD!" yelled Aldo as he led the march along with Winona.

Soon, all the commando started their long road across the French countryside. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to make an encounter that would change their lives for a long time...

Meanwhile, Maddie and Ada wandered through the forest, looking for shelter.

A little earlier, they had almost been spotted by a German patrol, which had scared them.

Now, their priority was to find a safe place while they waited for help.

As they walked through the woods, Maddie saw a cave:

"Look, aunty! A shelter!"

"Well done, Maddie! Let's go!"

They rushed to the hiding place and checked that nothing was inside.

Once assured that they were alone, Ada ordered her niece:

"Listen to me, Maddie: you're going to stay here and make no noise, okay?"

"What about you? What are you going to do?" asked the little girl.

"I'll try to find something to eat. Keep quiet, do you understand?"

Maddie nodded. Smiling, Ada stroked her head:

"I'll be back soon, I promise!"

Then, she walked away while Maddie hid behind a rock.

The young girl hated being alone. Of course, she knew that it was necessary. But the truth was that she was scared.

She was afraid to be alone, at the mercy of the Germans. After all, what could a seven-year-old girl do when faced with armed soldiers?

And then, who knew what could happen to her aunt?

Well, the little girl knew that Ada was capable of defending herself. But if anything happened to her, she would not be able to survive.

Suddenly, she heard voices and footsteps approaching the cave. Covering her mouth and trying to be as hidden as possible, Maddie tried to figure out who had just arrived.

She kept her ears open and listened to the conversation:

"Great, guys! We can stop here!"

"Finally, it's about time! We must have been walking for hours, and my legs are killing me!"

"Stop complaining, Gerold!"

"Oh no! You're not going to start bickering again!"

Maddie was intrigued: these people seemed to be speaking in English. Well, at least she wasn't dealing with Nazis, which was good news.

But what were these people doing here?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear anyone enter the cave until a man's voice asked:

"What on earth are you doing here?"

Horrified, she looked up and saw a medium-sized man staring at her with a surprised look.

As for Omar, he did not expect to find a child alone in a place like this.

He called his boss:

"Lieutenant, come and see!"

"What?" asked Aldo, who arrived in his turn and saw the little girl.

"Look at that! It's quite funny!"

"What's going on?" asked Wicki.

For all answers, the two men came out of the cave, escorting Maddie. The little girl was looking at the rest of the group with a frightened look.

"It seems that our hideout already had an occupant!" declared Hicox.

"But who's crazy enough to leave a kid all alone in the wild?" exclaimed Michael.

"I don't know," muttered Andy.

Simon, in his role as a doctor, walked over to the girl:

"I need to check her out. Who knows, maybe she needs treatment?"

"Do your job, doc!"

Sakowitz kneeled in front of Maddie and asked her:

"Do you speak English?"

She hesitantly replied with a small voice:

"Y-Yes, doctor!"

"Aw, ain't she cute?" smiled Donny.

"Low your voice, Don. She is scared!" said Winona while looking at the young girl.

Meanwhile, Simon carefully examined Maddie. He realized that she might suffer from malnutrition.

"Oh God, look how thin she is!"

He turned to Aldo.

"Lieutenant, do we have some food to give her?"

"For sure! Omar, gimme some bread, would ya?"

"Right now, sir!" replied Ulmer as he threw a piece of bread.

Raine caught it and handed the bread to Maddie.

"Here, ya can have some!"

Hesitantly, the little girl took the bread and muttered:

"Thank you!"

"Cute and polite: you must be a lovely little person!" smirked Archie.

Maddie took a bite and ate slowly, enjoying the taste of the bread.

"Poor little thing! She must not have eaten for days!" declared Wicki.

Winona came nearer and asked:

"What's your name, little one?"

Once she finished her mouthful, the little girl replied:

"Maddie Mandelbaum!"

"Okay, Maddie. Now, tell me: what are you doing here, all alone?"

Looking around, Maddie replied:

"It's because I flee!"

"What do you flee?"

For an answer, Maddie picked her necklace and showed a silver Star of David.

That's all it took for the Basterds to understand what Maddie was trying to escape.

"I see... You're a Jew, right?"

The little girl nodded.

"I see... But what are you doing by yourself?"

"I'm not alone: my auntie went to get food."

"Well, okay. And what's your auntie's name?" asked Smithson.

A female voice answered:

"Why don't you ask me?"

Everyone turned to Ada, who was holding a bag over her shoulder.

The young woman looked suspiciously at this troop. Even though they were not wearing Wehrmacht uniforms, she did not want to take the risk of crossing paths with Gestapo soldiers.

"Well, I guess you're the famous aunt?" asked Omar.

"Indeed. I am Adela Mandelbaum. And you?"

"We are American... with a German deserter, an American-Austrian soldier, and a British officer," replied Andy.

Sighing with relief, Ada put down her bag.

"At least there's some good news in this mess!"

Maddie rushed to her aunt and said:

"Ce sont des gens bien, tata. Ils m’ont donné du pain!"  (They're good people, Auntie. They gave me bread!)

Aldo walked over to Ada and introduced himself:

"Lieutenant Aldo Raine, nice to meet ya. So like this, you're the one who manages survival?"

"Yes, indeed."

"I see. And how long have ya been alone?"

"I don't know. I'm more concerned about escaping the Germans than counting the days."

Aldo nodded before replying:

"And I suppose you're hiding because you're Jewish, Imma right?"

Ada sighed.

"Exactly."

Donny spoke up:

"Lieutenant, we can't leave them alone. They'll get caught by the Krauts!"

"But they're civilians: we can't afford to have potential targets with us!" grumbled Hirschberg.

Hugo glared at him:

"Put yourself in the kid's shoes: would you like to be left at the mercy of those sickos? I don't think so."

Simon added:

"Besides, if they stay with us, they'll be safe. What do you think, Lieutenant?"

Raine massaged the back of his neck, doubtful.

"It's true that having two civilians with us can be a problem..."

He met his wife's gaze as she stared at him pleadingly. And if there was one person who could make Aldo Raine give in, it was Winona.

He sketched a smile:

"But as ya seem to me two brave women, it seems logical to me that ya stay with us!

This decision was greeted with enthusiasm by the rest of the team.

"I thank you for your help."

"No worries. After all, several of my guys are Jewish."

The young woman asked:

"Before I forget, Lieutenant Raine..."

"Yes, Miss?"

"What is your mission here?"

At these moments, she saw all the Basterds sketch a toothy grin. And the Lieutenant's answer did not hide their intentions:

"We parachuted into France for one mission and one mission only: to kill Nazis!"

Hugo asked:

"Doesn't that cause you problems?"

At these words, he saw a gleam in Ada's eye that he knew all too well. He could see the sorrow and hatred for the Nazis in her brown orbs.

And the determined tone of her voice confirmed his impression:

"On the contrary, it pleases me to hear that my people are being avenged. Hitler's foot soldiers stole my life and threatened my niece. I lost my family, and I don't know if they are alive or if those Gestapo goons shot them!"

She turned to Aldo and declared:

"Lieutenant, I know I look like a simple damsel in distress, but I want revenge. I want to make them pay for the evil they've done."

Impressed by this sudden determination, Aldo asked:

"What can ya do?"

"I'm an excellent shot, and I can fight."

"That's not so ladylike, coming from a young woman!"

Ada smiled:

"Who said I was ladylike?"

"My aunt is the best in the world... right after Mom!" pointed Maddie.

Aldo smirked and held out his hand.

"In that case, welcome to the team, Ada! Just so you know, if you join this commando, you owe me 100 Nazi scalps!"

Without hesitation, Ada grasped the outstretched hand and shook it in agreement.

"I will settle that debt, Lieutenant. And I will die trying if I have to!"

"That's what I like to hear!"

"But I want you to promise to look out for Maddie, no matter what!"

"PROMISED!" exclaimed the Basterds.

At that moment, Maddie's face lit up with an adorable smile that seemed to shine through the dim light of the Fontainebleau woods. Now she had nothing to fear from the Germans because now she had found guardian angels armed with guns and baseball bats. 

As for Ada, it was a new life for her that began. She was not a prey anymore. Now, she was the predator. 

The Germans better start running because she won't have mercy. And Ada Mandelbaum always kept her words... 

Thanks for the reading!

Stay tuned for the next chapter!

@sergeant-donny-donowitz​ @marilynmonroefanfics​ @velvet-waltz​ @ocfairygodmother​ @redrosewritingsstuff​ @empress-writes​ @jokersqueenofchaos​ (whom I thank for the German translation) @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321​ @knives-out17​ @multific​ @cherryplasmids​ @askthebasterds​ @nataschalena2​ 

[kickingitwithkirk]

Greetings From Austin

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 2616

Warnings: a/b/o, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway​​​​​​​

*images found online

Prologue

Austin, TX

Mid July

“Babe,” Jensen softly says in a low voice to the person seated next to him in the waiting room, “Babe,” he says a bit louder, still getting no response. Leaning close, he blows into their ear.

Jared starts, his “what” muffled by the finger he’s been chewing on.

“You know you can’t do that, don’t want you getting sick.” Taking his hand Jensen pulls it away from his pretty pink lips, gently caressing the finger. Jared had finally stopped chewing on his hands when Covid-19 became widespread.

“Where’s your gum?” Jared bite his lip not answering.

Sighing, Jensen shifts retrieving his pack and hands a piece to him. “What’s got you masticating again?” He inquires as Jared pops the stick in his mouth.

Jared chews the gum nervously weighing how to answer the question knowing Jensen won’t accept anything less than the whole truth. “What if something goes wrong again because of me.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed. He learned years ago that while their relationship is one of equals, he had to be lead Alpha when Jared’s mental state overwhelmed him as it had the last few weeks.

***

After the public announcement in March 2019 that season fifteen would be Supernaturals last, they had agreed when finished with the pickups they would take an extended break, return to Austin and concentrate on their marriage.

Jared intended to stop acting indefinitely, pursuing other interests and Jensen wanted to concentrate on his music.

Of course, things didn’t quite end up how they planned.

Jared entered negotiations to star in the Walker, Texas Ranger reboot, along with being an executive producer. Jensen got a call from Kripke wanting him for the role of Soldier Boy in The Boys third season.

But by March of 2020, everything came to a halt thanks to the Corona-virus.

The shutdowns left Supernaturals final two episodes with no definitive filming date and their seemingly never ending last season put their other projects on hold.

For the first time in years they had the luxury of a leisurely schedule, not having to be somewhere on a timetable, they could communicate with friends and family uninterrupted, deal with their other businesses, charities, etc, leaving most days free to enjoy being together without constraint.

But even amazing, awesome, vigorous sex on every horizontal/vertical surface that could support the two big Alphas only filled so many hours and like many couples, they started getting each others nerves and looked for other ways to stay occupied.

By late May, Jared was unable to sleep or eat, even going out of the house became a chore. When he hit a consecutive fourth day in bed, Jensen bodily dragged him into the bath for a desperately needed shower and loaded him in his truck driving to his doctor's.

Upon checking in they were told patients only allowed in the facility. Jared started panicking, saying he was having chest pains and couldn’t breath. He was rushed in with Jensen hot on their heels after morphing into an overprotective Alpha mate no one was stopping.

Jared’s doctor deduced with the lock-downs prohibiting him from his routine checkups and periodic adjustments needed to his medications triggered this episode.

The first step was to wean him off his current prescriptions and change to a newly approved, alternative regime. He was checked in a facility for ten days under observation while detoxing off his meds.

His therapist switched his twice weekly tele-counseling sessions to daily for the foreseeable future and Kodas certification as an emotional support animal was approved. His progress was slow but he was returning back to his sweet natured, big hearted, exceptionally tactical, overgrown puppy self.

When the surprise call from the clinic came a few days ago about an appointment opening, Jensen initially didn’t want it, still in his overly excessive protective Alpha mode. Jared’s outburst made him relent, fearing they were on a collision course for a major setback if he didn’t.

And Jensen, being Jensen, went overboard to ensure the appointment was absolutely private.

Part I

Jared was about to speak when a woman in scrubs called out, “Mr. Bonham and Mr. Page.” they got up crossing over to her, “Hello, I’m Sissy, Dr. Rodgers nurse, please follow me.”

They pass through the doorway leading through a maze of halls like that of any other medical clinic except this one specialized in a very specific service.

The nurse opens a door near the back of the clinic gesturing for them to enter the spacious office, “Please have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly.” She closed the door and they sat down in the pair of chairs directly in front of the large, dark mahogany desk.

Jensen, scenting Jared’s nervousness, lifts his right hand kissing his palm, making him chuckle at the tickle of Jen’s soft beard before twining their fingers together and setting them on his left thigh, smiling reassuringly.

There was a brief knock before the door opened and an older, silver haired Beta entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Rodgers, how are we doing today?” He asks, moving to his chair behind the desk.

Jared gave him a tight smile and Jensen remained placid.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, “Relax Mr. Page, this is just a visit to go over the paperwork before deciding about how we proceed, not the Spanish Inquisition.” Jared releases his held breath but couldn’t completely calm himself.

“I know the process can be overwhelming but I must ask, is there something we’ve done to make you uncomfortable?” Dr. Rodgers inquires.

“No, everyone’s been really nice, very professional. It’s just we..we had issues the first time we attempted to do this.” Jared finished his sentence quietly, in the recess of his mind; something bad is gonna happen and it’ll be my fault.

Jensen squeezes his hand tighter, instinctively sensing Jared’s mind was trying to spiral again, “When tried this before someone leaked our plans to the media. It wasn't ever proven the clinic was involved but...”

“We do everything possible to keep our clients anonymity protected here. All of our staff have been thoroughly vetted and sign NDA, given your professions, you're familiar with how they work. Your real identities will remain completely confidential, even if you choose to not proceed. It is why you chose this particular clinic, yes?”

“Yes, it is.” Jensen replied.

“How about we get this bit of paperwork out of the way, then we can have a more relaxed visit. I’ve gone over the applications you both submitted and have noted a few discrepancies in the medical section that need clarification before we proceed,” He opens the top file, “Mr. Bonham, why did you omit Genu Varum from your medical history?”

Jensen kept his expression neutral as he felt his stomach automatically clench. He had been mercilessly teased throughout his childhood about his bowed legs by his older brother Josh and later his buddies from school when they’d come over to hang out. By the time he was in high school Jensen’s extraordinary looks and personality were what got people’s attention first. Nowadays, many a fanfic waxed poetic about those bowed legs.

“The questionnaire inquired about inherited genetic medical conditions and since mine isn’t, I didn’t think it was necessarily applicable.” Jared hears an edge creeping into Jensen’s voice and gives their tangled fingers a quick squeeze.

“Did you see an orthopedist and were they able to determine what caused the condition? Did they suggest any surgical procedures or therapies to straighten your legs?”

“I was born a preemie, the orthopedists my parents consulted decided my condition was attributable to that.” Jensen replies tersely, dropping his vocal range. Jared gripped his hand harder, telling him to cool the attitude. “The doctor didn’t recommend surgery but sent me to physical therapy, thought it would help them straighten as I grew.”

“So no others in your immediate family have this issue?”

“Everyone my family has straight legs, including my three children.”

Jared piped in, “He hates it but he does have an exercise regimen; stretching, strength training. Oh, he also takes several different vitamins, omega oils, turmeric and extra vitamin D to support his joints.” They watched the doctor scribble a few more notes in the file before closing it.

“Mr. Page,” Jared sits up straighter in his chair, “I appreciate that you went into detail about your mental health status. I see you’ve recently been hospitalized, your medications have been changed to an alternative regiment and you’ve also increased your therapy sessions?”

Jared’s interview continued for another twenty minutes as Dr. Rodgers questioned him in depth about his depression and anxiety, feeling said anxiety ratcheting up so he focused on Jensen’s thumb rhythmically moving over his hand and used every ounce of his acting skills to appear confident and in control.

Dr. Rodgers closed his file, “I only have a few general questions left then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”

After a more relaxed, genial conversation with the doctor, Sissy took them to a couple private rooms with paraphernalia to help stimulate them into producing a couple semen samples.

Jensen was getting close to finishing with his favorite spank-bank fantasy when he felt Jared’s frustration across their bond.

~~~

Jared couldn’t get aroused.

He felt as useless as his flaccid cock.

His doctor warned him that loss of sex drive could be a possible side effect of his new regiment until his body adjusted to it. He had struggled with temporary impotence a few times on his old meds, always fearful Jensen would finally see him as undesirable, no longer a satisfactory mate.

Rationally, he knew it was his illness causing these exceptionally hard to deal thoughts recently and the nagging idea this wasn’t the right thing for them to attempt again continually kept creeping in.

Jensen’s unspoken reluctance about having more children at his age was also weighing on his conscience, warring against his own biological longings.

They had a humongous argument when he told Jensen about taking the appointment. Jen thought this was the wrong time to attempt it again, pointing out he was just getting his equilibrium back setting Jared went off on a rant about how he no longer wanted him and would leave him like Genevieve had because he was too broken to deal with anymore.

Unmitigated anguish was written across Jensen’s beautiful features, the very notion that Jared could conceivably believe that he’d ever abandon him made his soul hurt in such a way no verbal language on earth could ever express his devastated feelings traveling across their bond.

***

Everything they’d been through; from that bar fight solidifying their friendship, Jared’s first breakdown, the years of living as roommates while secretly a couple to finding wives who understood their unique relationship and still married them both in 2010.

The joyous arrival of JJ three years later that unfortunately exacerbated Genevieve's frustration of not being able to conceive coming out with a vengeance at Jared. His unexpected breakdown in Switzerland was the final nail in their marriage. Gen was there for him but in the end it was all too much and she filed for divorce.

Shortly after, Jared’s iCloud account was hacked. It was believed, but never conclusively proven, that Gen was behind it since her lawyer was trying to break their prenuptial agreement, the videos documenting his private and explicit sexual relationship with Jensen were legally considered adulterous. In the end, the court upheld the legal document but the ramifications...

They were summoned to L.A. for the meeting from hell with WB executives, both convinced it was the end of Supernatural and their careers.

After the reaming out, they each received a weeks pay suspension to cover some of what it was gonna cost PR in time and money to deal with the inevitable repercussions and placate the show's sponsors.

How would the show’s fans react? Would they still be able to accept them as brothers only on TV while in real life they were involved in a highly stigmatized relationship?

When they returned to work there was an atmosphere of tension that hadn’t existed before. It was an open secret that all shows had their share of bitchiness and backstabbing behind the scenes. Jensen may have the thicker skin, keeping tighter control on his emotions, but Jared knew it hurt him just as deeply the loss of some of their friends because of prejudicial, social beliefs that two Alpha males shouldn’t be involved.

Jensen’s parents showed up unexpectedly in Vancouver a few weeks later. What started out as a not quite comfortable visit quickly deteriorated with his religiously conservative parents. They had not raised him like this and blamed Jared, saying he had corrupted him, leading him into a sinful lifestyle. He needed to repent and return to his wife to whom he had made a commitment before god.

Jensen blew up, replying it was none of their business, it was between them and oh, yeah, Danneel knew about them before marrying him and they better not say anything to her. Without another word his parents left. When he later called them to make amends, his mother coolly stated that he was no longer part of their family and to never contact them again.

Three months after the twins were born in 2016 came the finalization of Jensen’s divorce from Danneel, painful but congenial. They easily agreed on joint custody and still spent most holidays together. Jensen gave Dani financial security in their settlement, he wanted to make sure she didn’t have to worry about working again unless she wanted to.

All these years later, Jared continually has nagging thoughts that they had let everybody down. They received support when they publicly came out as bisexual then lost some of it when they married, being mocked for not coming out as gay.

***

There was another knock at the door and Jared ignored it, it was that nurse checking on his lack of progress again. The knock turned into pounding, “Jared, open this door now dammit!” He flinched realizing Jensen knew what was going on with him. Releasing the privacy latch and opening the door a crack he saw concerned green eyes only.

“Sorry, I thought you were that nurse,” he stepped away and sat back down as Jensen came in and re-latching it behind him. “She came to get me when you stopped answering,” Jensen said, walking over to him and started running his thick fingers through his husband’s long hair, “what’s going on babe?”

He glances up knowing that Jensen already knew, “It’s okay Jay, take as long as you need.” He paused at the unpleasant scent wafting around him. “If you’d be more comfortable we could do this at home…” Jared shakes his head, “There’s the risk of damage, contamination and or not able to get it back in time that could make the semen unusable.” Jared quotes from a website.

Jensen softly chuckled, “Nerd.”

Jared notices the bulge in his jeans, “You didn’t...”

“Drain the snake..choke the chicken..spank the monkey.”

“Fuck, okay, you didn’t! Stop using old man slang.” He shook his head smiling  at Jensen intentionally goading him.

Jared reached up for the hand playing in his hair, grasping it to draw Jensen down next to him.

“Jack, I don’t want to wait any longer on doing this. I love JJ and the twins, you know I do, but they'll always be yours and Danneels. I know the timing could be better... but I'm almost thirty-eight and I want my..our own pups running around the house driving us crazy.”

“For the next eighteen years?”

“Minimum.”

tbc

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @lyarr24

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

[allthingsfern]

Finally took some pictures, as life goes on

On Saturday, 01-16-21, a little after 2:30 pm, I happened to see the title of an article about how US state capitol buildings were being protected by temporary fences and other barriers and by police and military forces in case of armed terrorist attacks by US white supremacist terrorists and other right wing extremists, attacks against US democracy similar to the insurgency at the US Capitol on 01-06-21.

Davis, CA, where I live, is a small, liberal, middle class college town that is about 12 miles from Sacramento, the state capital city of California. The California State Capitol building is about 15 miles from Davis. Every so often I rent a car 9or sometimes take the train) to go and take photos around there, plus there are great restaurants in Sacramento, close to the capitol building, and even Mike’s Camera, where I bought my 2 Sonys and where I buy most of my camera gear, is close to the capitol.

Anyway, I rented a car and drove to the capitol, getting there at around 3:30 pm. It was mostly deserted, except for small groups of soldiers and/or police officers and the usual joggers, tourists taking smartphone photos of the scene and selfies, residents of the area walking their dogs. Oh, and a surprise bunch of folks I will talk about later. And there were police and military vehicles.

The whole scene, for me, was disturbing, because it took me back to post-1959 Havana and the military presence visible throughout because of ongoing contra-Castro sabotage and the fear, starting in mid to late 1960, of a US led invasion. Many regular citizens were often dressed in military uniforms while they did volunteer security checks and stood watch, prepared for any attacks. My dad, who supported the new regime until April 16, 1961, the day Castro declared his nascent administration “comunista y socialista,” coincidentally the day before the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Both my parents supported the Castro government until that day.

I also recall seeing anti-aircraft guns along El Malecon, Havana’s renowned “broad esplanade, roadway, and seawall that stretches for 8 km along the coast in Havana, Cuba, from the mouth of Havana Harbor in Old Havana, along the north side of the Centro Habana neighborhood and the Vedado neighborhood, ending at the mouth of the Almendares River.“ (Source) And after the “French freighter La Coubre exploded in the harbour of Havana, Cuba, on 4 March 1960,” I recall my parents taking us on a small wooden water taxi to see what was left. BTW, the explosion occurred “while it was unloading 76 tons of grenades and munitions. Casualties may have been as high as 100, and many more were injured. Fidel Castro charged it was an act of sabotage on the part of the United States, which denied any involvement.” (Source) 1960 and 1961 was a period of constant fear, every so often hearing explosions at a distance, seeing the armed presence of military alertness, all the while having to hide the fact that my sister and I were leaving the country; my parents and newborn sister were able to get out in 1962. And then, once in the US, there was the 8 months of separation, the total disavowal by our pro-Castro family in Cuba, the fear that my parents and baby sister might not be allowed to leave, and soon after my parents and sister arrived, there came the October Missile Crisis.

On Saturday 01-16-21, all of that kept popping up, physically making me hyper aware, stirring up my little Cuban refugee anxieties and my childhood struggle to make sense out of what made no sense. Yet, that all my past pain and confusion and fear also grounded me in a faith of knowing I was going to be okay, the small groups of soldiers and/or police officers and the usual joggers, tourists taking smartphone photos of the scene and selfies, residents of the area walking their dogs were all going to be okay, the whole thing, the whole country, all of us were going to be okay.

So, I walked around. I asked the first small group of soldiers I saw if it was okay to take pictures of them and the surrounding area and they said it was okay, that I was only the second person to ask, which they appreciated, but most people just took pictures or video of whatever. They were very polite and seemed relieved to have a moment of civil conversation. And yes, I also thanked them for being in the front lines. And I walked around.

I think I got a couple of good photos of people being people, but I was especially blown away by the one group that, I guess, was a big a family, with parents, kids, cousins, aunts, uncles, all dressed in formal wear, posing in front of a young woman, also all dressed up, who was taking their photos with a nice setup that included a tripod. I guess the photos were for a wedding or a quinceañera. They were on the steps of a government building across the street form the capitol building. And what blew my mind was that to their right were 3 soldiers, standing guard, fully armed and ready, while they also watched the photo shoot. See, the capitol and its surrounding gardens and buildings are often used for backdrops for graduation, quinceañera, wedding, and family portraits.

My stormy emotions and painful memories were calmed by that family, by the usual joggers, tourists taking smartphone photos of the scene and selfies, residents of the area walking their dogs, all being people, And yes, by the very polite soldiers. And the beauty of the capitol and its gardens and buildings also soothed my anxiety. All those people in that lovely place reminded that life goes on. See, even during the violence and uncertainty of my childhood, life went on. My parents went to work. I went to school, played games, my family got together, we went to the beach, had fun. I watched One Step Beyond and Flash Gordon and Rosita Fornes and Betty Boop and Perry Mason and Pepe Biondi on our little B&W TV set. While the 1959 Revolution and the contra-Castro aftermath raged on, we went to the movies, had fun.

Life went one.

Really, kinda like now, during the COVID19 pandemic and political and social upheaval.

Life goes on.

[cherryplasmids]

☆ not today, but one day ☆

pairing: donny donowitz x reader fandom: inglourious basterds—operation kino doesn’t exist anon requested: Hello, I have loved all of your Donny Donowitz stories!! If you are taking requests, could you write a fluffy and/or angsty post fight piece? Thank you!! notes: mentions hiding jewish children  — check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

        Moving to an occupied France with Donny at the height of the world war defied your expectations. Not even in your wildest dreams did you want to be near such chaos. Unfortunately, your fiancé did. He enthusiastically signed up to be a Basterd alongside his best friend, Aldo Raine, which meant he would be leaving the U.S to help end the war. Donny desperately wanted you to join him in France. But downtown Boston had factories opening up at a rapid pace, ensuring job security for you and money for the future. But Donny is an unrelenting man. His ceaseless begging eventually wore you down. Within a few months, you were on a plane heading to France with the rest of the Basterds.

Luckily, one of Aldo's informants owned a bakery near their secret location. The owner of the bakery, Benoit, opened a job up for you immediately. You would help serve customers while being a spy. All you would have to do is act ditzy and fawn over officers to gain information. Although the act disgusted you, it was simple enough. Turns out, officers are more willing to boast about their exploits as long as you smile and flirt. You didn't have to do much before they began talking your ear off.

Soon enough, though, the seemingly easy job turned for the worst. Benoit began hiding Jewish children. Of course, you kept a tight lip about the situation and helped him care for the orphaned girls while he cared for the boys. The issue revolved around the officers. They had suspicions of Benoit right in the beginning and began ransacking the bakery almost every day. You and Benoit spent more time cleaning up the place than actually baking or making a profit. After a few months, Benoit completely disappeared. With him gone, you were left in charge of both the bakery and the children.

The responsibilities thrust upon you slowly ate at you. The only time you felt some inkling of normalcy was with Donny. However, he too went M.I.A.

The day he came back to you with blood covering his bat and a smile adorning his lips, you were fuming. As soon as he went to hug you, you snapped. As a result, a verbal argument began and lasted for almost an hour. 80% of the fight did not make any sense. You did more crying than anything else. But your anger and fear caused incoherent thoughts to be screamed. Once you realized you weren't getting your message through, you stormed off to cool down.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

          It's nighttime, about 2 hours after the argument, when Donny decides to talk. You're in the kitchen, smoking Gauloises and staring out the window. You don't make any moves to acknowledge him when he calls out to you. Instead, you shift in the window nook and twirl the lit cigarette between your lips. A moment of silence passes before you hear the floorboards creak under his heavy boots. He pulls out a chair from the nearby table and sits down. That's when you look at him. He folds his hands on top of the table and opens his mouth to speak. You lazily watch him, both disinterested and irritated that’s he’s even here. When you told him you wanted space, you meant for the entire night. You shouldn't be surprised, though. After all, Donny is a clingy man. You're just a little amazed he lasted this long, especially after being gone for so long.

He starts off by saying your name in a gentle tone before cutting himself off. Shaking his head, he tries to start again. But after several attempts at forming a coherent thought, he gets frustrated enough to make moves to leave.

You take pity on him and remove the cigarette from your lips. "How was the trip?"

"Good. Smithson shot his foot accidentally. We got delayed a bit, but still had a good time."

"Scalp anyone?"

Donny puffs out his chest in pride. "Of course! 23 scalps in the bag. I got the most."

A little smirk tugs at your lips. "Good boy."

Another beat of silence passes. He shifts in his seat and his leg begins to bounce. "I'm sorry, doll. I just act without thinking sometimes. You know that."

You turn to him. “I do, but you can’t keep using that as an excuse.”

“I’m not trying to—“

Your sharp glare shuts him downs. “I’m constantly on edge, Donny. With the bakery being investigated almost daily, I’m drowning in fear. I don’t want to the possibility of you being dead running amok in my head.”

His eyes steel and his hands clench into a fist. “Yeah because what I do is a damn cakewalk.”

“I never said that, so don’t go around twisting my words.” You sigh deeply and inhale smoke from the cigarette. “Three weeks, Donny. Three damn weeks of wondering whether or not you're dead. Do you know what that does to someone?” You press the cigarette head onto the ashtray, watching the embers fizz out.

Donny reaches out and grabs both of your hands. His thumbs begin to caress your skin in circular motions. The slight irritation and sadness in your chest simmers down as a result.

“I'm sorry, doll. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Tears brim at your lower lashes. Donny gets up from his seat to console you. His burly arms blanket you, securing you in safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

Your tears fall freely onto his white tank top. You clench onto him as you murmur to him. “I’m so scared, Don.”

He squeezes you, attempting to convey his reassurance. “Let us win the war, baby. Then we’ll go back to Boston and have the biggest wedding ever. Pop-out a few kids and retire. We’ll be safe and happy, just like how we were before the war.”

You sniffle and nod, muttering some words he can’t quite hear. “Come on, doll. Let’s get you to bed.”He picks you up in bridal style and begins walking toward your shared bedroom.

You trust Donny's words. He’ll win the war—tear down the regime right from the top. It’ll take some time but until then, you got to hold on. Save yourself from spiraling for the sake of yourself and the children under your protection.

Safety and comfort will come soon. It might not be today or tomorrow, but one day. That hope alone will keep you going.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,077 published: june 16, 2020 edited: n/a

[tinyshe]

Alexander Solzhenitsyn: Live Not By Lies  

Solzhenitsyn penned this essay in 1974 and it circulated among Moscow’s intellectuals at the time. It is dated Feb. 12, the same day that secret police broke into his apartment and arrested him. The next day he was exiled to West Germany. The essay is a call to moral courage and serves as light to all who value truth. 

At one time we dared not even to whisper. Now we write and read samizdat, and sometimes when we gather in the smoking room at the Science Institute we complain frankly to one another: What kind of tricks are they playing on us, and where are they dragging us? Gratuitous boasting of cosmic achievements while there is poverty and destruction at home. Propping up remote, uncivilized regimes. Fanning up civil war. And we recklessly fostered Mao Tse-tung at our expense—and it will be we who are sent to war against him, and will have to go. Is there any way out? And they put on trial anybody they want and they put sane people in asylums—always they, and we are powerless.

Things have almost reached rock bottom. A universal spiritual death has already touched us all, and physical death will soon flare up and consume us both and our children—but as before we still smile in a cowardly way and mumble without tounges tied. But what can we do to stop it? We haven’t the strength?

We have been so hopelessly dehumanized that for today’s modest ration of food we are willing to abandon all our principles, our souls, and all the efforts of our predecessors and all opportunities for our descendants—but just don’t disturb our fragile existence. We lack staunchness, pride and enthusiasm. We don’t even fear universal nuclear death, and we don’t fear a third world war. We have already taken refuge in the crevices. We just fear acts of civil courage.

We fear only to lag behind the herd and to take a step alone—and suddenly find ourselves without white bread, without heating gas and without a Moscow registration.

We have been indoctrinated in political courses, and in just the same way was fostered the idea to live comfortably, and all will be well for the rest of our lives. You can’t escape your environment and social conditions. Everyday life defines consciousness. What does it have to do with us? We can’t do anything about it?

But we can—everything. But we lie to ourselves for assurance. And it is not they who are to blame for everything—we ourselves, only we. One can object: But actually you can think anything you like. Gags have been stuffed into our mouths. Nobody wants to listen to us and nobody asks us. How can we force them to listen? It is impossible to change their minds.

It would be natural to vote them out of office—but there are not elections in our country. In the West people know about strikes and protest demonstrations—but we are too oppressed, and it is a horrible prospect for us: How can one suddenly renounce a job and take to the streets? Yet the other fatal paths probed during the past century by our bitter Russian history are, nevertheless, not for us, and truly we don’t need them.

Now that the axes have done their work, when everything which was sown has sprouted anew, we can see that the young and presumptuous people who thought they would make our country just and happy through terror, bloody rebellion and civil war were themselves misled. No thanks, fathers of education! Now we know that infamous methods breed infamous results. Let our hands be clean!

The circle—is it closed? And is there really no way out? And is there only one thing left for us to do, to wait without taking action? Maybe something will happen by itself? It will never happen as long as we daily acknowledge, extol, and strengthen—and do not sever ourselves from the most perceptible of its aspects: Lies.

When violence intrudes into peaceful life, its face glows with self-confidence, as if it were carrying a banner and shouting: “I am violence. Run away, make way for me—I will crush you.” But violence quickly grows old. And it has lost confidence in itself, and in order to maintain a respectable face it summons falsehood as its ally—since violence lays its ponderous paw not every day and not on every shoulder. It demands from us only obedience to lies and daily participation in lies—all loyalty lies in that.

And the simplest and most accessible key to our self-neglected liberation lies right here: Personal non-participation in lies. Though lies conceal everything, though lies embrace everything, but not with any help from me.

This opens a breach in the imaginary encirclement caused by our inaction. It is the easiest thing to do for us, but the most devastating for the lies. Because when people renounce lies it simply cuts short their existence. Like an infection, they can exist only in a living organism.

We do not exhort ourselves. We have not sufficiently matured to march into the squares and shout the truth out loud or to express aloud what we think. It’s not necessary.

It’s dangerous. But let us refuse to say that which we do not think.

This is our path, the easiest and most accessible one, which takes into account out inherent cowardice, already well rooted. And it is much easier—it’s dangerous even to say this—than the sort of civil disobedience which Gandhi advocated.

Our path is to talk away from the gangrenous boundary. If we did not paste together the dead bones and scales of ideology, if we did not sew together the rotting rags, we would be astonished how quickly the lies would be rendered helpless and subside.

That which should be naked would then really appear naked before the whole world.

So in our timidity, let each of us make a choice: Whether consciously, to remain a servant of falsehood—of course, it is not out of inclination, but to feed one’s family, that one raises his children in the spirit of lies—or to shrug off the lies and become an honest man worthy of respect both by one’s children and contemporaries.

the rest of the essay and article at Renegade Tribune can be read here

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 33

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 33: The End of the Committee

PLEASE LOOK AT THE POSTERS I MADE FOR THIS STORY

You, Kylo, the lieutenant, and the general enter the room. If you thought everyone was on their best behavior for the general, then they were trying to act like saints in the presence of the Supreme Leader. You were sure that it was mostly fear rather than respect that they held for him.

You took your normal seat as did the general, but Kylo took the seat at the head of the conference room table where Dr. Koroban normally sat and the doctor sat next to you replacing the lieutenant who now stood behind you against the wall. Even though the lieutenant was not by your side he was still doing his job, seeing as a fresh cup of stimcaf was placed in front of you.

Usually, before the meetings began there was light chatter, not this time. The room was dead with silence before Dr. Koroban spoke, “it is an honor to be joined by you today Supreme Leader, we much look forward to seeing what you do with all of the work that this committee has done.”

Kylo, ever so intimidating just raised his head and simply ordered, “proceed.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader. On the agenda today we will be discussing mandatory vaccinations and exercise. Along with wrapping up the entirety of the committee,” said Dr. Koroban.

“Shall we start with the mandatory vaccinations,” asked Dr. Dabrini. Of everyone in the room, he, Dr. Koroban, and the general seemed most relaxed in Kylo’s presence. All of the other officers and medical staff were sitting ramrod straight in their chairs and seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

“That should be the best course of action. What are the current standards right now on the planet,” asked Hux. You could tell that he was reading the room as he was saying it. As a way to help ease the tension from the lower officers.

“Currently vaccination requirements are all over the place on the planet. Every military requires up to date immunization for their soldiers, but the country with the most rigorous policy is that of Slovenia. While a medical exemption request can be submitted to a committee, such an application for reasons of religion or conscience wouldn’t be acceptable and isn’t allowed,” said Dr. Dabrini.

“So, according to First Order Health Standards and Procedures, this will drastically need to change. But I believe we already knew that. Currently, most people have willingly received their vaccinations through the health stations, but it remains to be seen how many of them will need to be mandated into receiving them,” said a higher-ranking officer. With Kylo remaining to be quiet you could tell some of the officers were becoming more comfortable by the minute.

“Lady Ren, what is your take on this,” asked Hux. Kylo’s helmet turned towards you previously he seemed to be staring at the wall ahead of him. Because of the helmet, you were unsure as to if he was paying attention or not, but he sure was now at least to you.

“I currently don’t have a problem with mandatory vaccinations. Unless someone has a health reason to be exempt from vaccinations, in any case, those people should be protected by the herd immunity effect. As that is who herd immunity is supposed to protect. I’m all for these mandatory vaccinations so go right ahead,” you said. If you could see Kylo’s eyes you were pretty sure they were dead set on you. When you were finished speaking he nodded and everyone took this for approval.

“We shall do just that m’lady,” said Dr. Koroban. “Shall we move on to exercise before lunch is served?” He looked around for approval, everyone nodded in agreement except for Hux and Kylo who were just looking at you.

“Yes, I believe last time I voiced my concerns for mandatory exercise, especially in private homes. Now I haven’t seen how the First Order education affects most people on this planet but I can promise you that making a mandatory exercise regime for citizens in their private lives will not end well,” you were trying to be confident. “I think that a suggested regime may be something you need to consider, it will go over better all-around. Many nations found suggestions better in past war efforts than everything being mandatory, especially in private homes.”

“But m’lady there is a desperate need for weightloss reform in many of your ‘first world’ countries, we need to do something more, something obligatory. Otherwise, there will be no change. We need exercise to go along with diet, nothing will change for these people unless we do it for them,” said a high-ranking officer.

“I didn’t say you had to do nothing, just leave the mandated watching out of it. Maybe there is a need for an incentive program. Something for people to get excited about. Maybe something like their name rolling across the broadcast screen at the end of a successful month? Something they can brag about to their friends. It might even start competitions to see who is a better citizen, keeping up with the jones as we like to say,” you responded. You knew that they wouldn’t give it up so easily. You were just hoping that they could make people think that they had freedom, even if the way things were starting to look like they didn’t.

“You believe it to be that simple,” asked the general. You could hear the doubt in his voice even if you didn’t see the doubt in his eyes.

“No, I don’t but this directly deals with behavior in a different way than many of the other things we have discussed. This program will need readjusting as it goes along. You will need to evaluate consistently, maybe the reward will need to be bigger, maybe eventually it needs to become mandatory, but implementing another mandatory thing that affects behavior will not help you right now,” you countered. Even though you didn’t know how the general populace was feeling right now you had no doubt that people might be scared. You were worried for them, the general populace, you were at least safe by Kylo’s side, with his nights, or onboard the ship, but you couldn’t say that for others.

“I see. So we do as you suggest for let’s say six months then we readjust to figure out if making it mandatory is necessary. I think we could agree to postpone it for at least those six months, but only with the Supreme Leader’s approval,” said Dr. Koroban who then turned his head to look at Kylo for approval.

Kylo didn’t turn to acknowledge the man sitting next to you. Throughout the whole discussion, his attention was placed firmly on you, however, he waved his hand to acknowledge that he was fine with the decision made by the  Finalizer’s doctor.  

“Well then we better move on to lunch before we start our wrap up,” said Dr. Koroban. He then made a motion to one of the junior officers who let in a group of them carrying crome cloches and large platters.

Everyone had been served and the junior officers removed the cloches on everyone’s food except Kylo’s. You watched as the younger officers looked to the doctors and the general as to what to do, they all began to eat so they took it as a sign to do so. You were not comfortable with this. Kylo was going to keep his helmet on the whole time? No, you were going to fix this.

You turned to the junior officer behind you, waiting on you and asked her if she could bring your plate down to the red sitting room. “Supreme Leader, would you like to join me in the Red Room for lunch seeing as we won’t be discussing anything until afterward?”

Kylo merely nodded and gestured to the junior officer behind him to take his lunch as well. You got up and left the room heading down the hall to your usual sitting room. The junior officers and Kylo were right behind you along with another junior officer bringing a table. They set up your lunch and left before shutting the door.

They left you alone with Kylo.

He took off his mask before saying, “Thank you, although it isn’t the first time I have had to skip a meal in the presence of others.” He then started to dig into the rather delicious looking meal that had been served.

You were shocked, but you laughed despite it. “I don’t think you should be skipping eating at a health committee meeting, seems pretty contradictory don’t you think?”

Kylo looked up through his lashes at you from while leaning over his plate, “you’re right. But I need to keep up appearances. One of the reasons why my knights and I wear the mask is for intimidation and power. The reason why I wear it to meetings is that people question me less, Hux is one of the few who has the guts to question my tactics while it is on.”

“And do you appreciate that? That he has the guts to do so?”

“Some times, other times he can be rather annoying,” he sniggered out.

You could tell by his relaxed posture that he was enjoying himself. He carried himself differently even if he didn’t like to think so. You were happy that you two had this moment in the middle of the stressful meeting, but you knew it was going to come to an end soon as you both finished your lunches and would have to head back into the meeting.

You and Kylo stood, he took your arm and then placed his helmet on his head with one hand. You wondered if he used the Force for assistance or if his hands were so large that he didn’t need the help. Either way, a part of you was sad when the helmet went on. It was like clouds covering the beauty of the moon, and you an evening primrose desperate for its gleam to touch your petals. All you wanted to do was dance in his night but you needed to return to the day, to the meeting.

You could hear light chatter from outside the room which died as soon as you both entered. His helmet and his presence seemed to be working to their full effect. You took your respective seats.

“With your permission Supreme Leader, we should begin,” said Dr. Koroban.

Kylo simply waved his hand once more and almost everyone in the room shifted in their chairs,

“Currently we have made an effort to produce programs on health. Things like daily hygiene, healthy eating, sickness prevention, and injury prevention. We have also discussed sex and reproductive safety, this has been dealt with now completely by the  Supremacy  as per the Supreme Leader’s orders .   We have decided today that we will have mandatory forced vaccinations, with the exception of medical needs. And we have decided on an exercise regime that will need to be evaluated throughout its course,” said Dr. Dabrini.

“With the help of Lady Ren and Petty Officer Tanau we sent off a number of posters and videos as examples to the  Supremacy.  They answered back with many notes and several campaigns to start here on earth,” said Dr. Koroban.

A projector then started to reveal a presentation on the walls around you. First up was a poster for daily hygiene. “While we may use some of the posters that have been sent, the  Supremacy  has made some of their own as you can see here and here. They agreed with the videos that were sent over as other research on this planet seems to favor the old-time nostalgia that these might bring,” said Dr. Dabrini.

The projector then went to show the various posters that had been sent over previously, “while we now these sicknesses prevention techniques could be expanded upon, we think starting with school-aged children will be the best option as they spread sickness around the most,” said Dr. Koroban.

“Injury prevention has lead to videos like this  one and this  one . Along with the need for every industry to have its own safety precautions. But as Lady Ren pointed out there are government agencies that already do this very well. The  Supremacy  has only made one example poster for this. They will be working with the agencies in place to bring the safety up to First Order Standards,” said Dr. Dabrini.

“That should conclude all health and safety topics, does this meet your approval Supreme Leader,” asked Dr. Koroban.

Kylo’s vocoder stated out a harsh, “yes” to answer the aging doctor’s question. There was a look of pride on the doctor’s face, a look that seemed as if you just told him that he had cured cancer. Almost to overjoyed.

“That concludes the Health Committee. I would like to thank everyone’s helo on this, especially that of you Lady Ren. The planet here will be healthier because of us,” said Dr. Koroban in conclusion.

You all stood up to leave. Everyone waited for the Supreme Leader to leave first, he then just paused next to you taking your arm. You entered the hallway and were greeted by General Pryde.“Supreme Leader I have the list of behavioral videos that you and the rest of the First Order High Command have requested. It will only take a few minutes for you to approve them, I have already run them by the Allegiant General.”  

General Hux paused near you, “I have already confirmed that the list of videos would be most beneficial for the populace. The posters are what need the most of your approval. A few simple new recruitment ones based off of similar ones found here on this planet. This one that deals with finding members of the Resistance and one on Stormtrooper behavior.” Pryde handed Kylo a datapad with a list of recruitment posters and videos.

Let’s be Good Citizen’s at School (1953)

Are You a Good Citizen? (1949)

Law and Social Controls (1949)

School Rules

Improve Your Personality (1951)

Everyday Manners

Right or Wrong

How to Keep a Job (1949)

You and Your Work (1948)

Personality and Emotions (1954 )

Habit Patterns (1954)

Obligations (1950)

The Procrastinator (1952)

Wastage of Human Resources

You peeked over Kylo’s shoulder at the data pad. The general had procured an extensive list, by the titles of the videos nothing seemed to harmful. They reminded you of videos your health teacher might have a substitute play when they were gone, or on days you couldn’t go outside for recess. The posters seemed alright, recruitment like but over Kylo’s shoulder you couldn’t read the text of the one titled: How and What to tell a Rebel.

“These are acceptable. Have them sent off to the  Supremacy  for a final inspection.” With the helmet on you couldn’t tell if he was unimpressed or not.

You could tell by the way he positioned that Hux was slightly guarding you from the gray-haired general.  

“I hope these will also please you m’lady. I would like to thank you for suggesting the Library of Congress to us, it has been very helpful in my research,” said Pryde. He had a smile reminiscent of an antique doll that you had once seen in a thrift shop, one that’s eyes seemed to follow you where ever you went.

Hux’s eyes flicked and seemingly shared a look with Kylo like they were having a silent conversation.

“You are welcome general, I am glad that it helped the First Order,” you replied. You griped Kylo’s arm a bit tighter, hoping that he would get the hint that you wanted to leave. You wanted to get away from the older general, who’s eyes hid some thirst behind them, what that thirst was you did not want to know.

Kylo took the hint and maneuvered you through the halls and back to the shuttle, you were only accompanied by the knights, the lieutenant and the redheaded general. You felt at ease in their presence. You took off for the  Steadfast  ready for your next lesson.

[tes-trash-blog]

🌙 hmm... an age old question but opinion on the whole Imperials Vs Stormcloaks fiasco Skyrim tried to feed us?

*cracks neck*

Goodbye follower count, I’m going in!

I’m going to preface this with a confession: In my first ever playthrough of Skyrim (2014), I did side with the Imperials. On my second, I sided with the Stormcloaks. Since then, I have done three more playthroughs on the Stormcloak side, and three more on the Imperial side. In four more still my Dragonborn was neutral, slaying Alduin without ever taking a side. In my playthroughs, especially the ones after 2016, I’ve developed my own opinions about the Imperials and Stormcloaks alike.

In order to better articulate my opinion, we must first briefly examine four factors: the American landscape in which Skyrim was conceived, Skyrim itself and its portrayal of the Imperials and Stormcloaks (and the Thalmor), and Umberto Eco, the usage of terms like “fascism” and especially “Nazism” in American popular culture, and how this all relates to the Imperial/Stormcloak fiasco.

So let’s get started.

Part 1: Thanks, Obama.

In 2008, Barack Obama was elected as the 44th President of the United States. It was a landslide victory against Republican runner John McCain, a conserative who frequently brought up his service in the Vietnam War (and his time as a prisoner of war) during his campaign, as well as his years of service in political office. In a move to make his (very white, very male) campaign seem more inclusive in the face of the frontrunners of the Democratic campaign (Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama), he appointed Sarah Palin as his VP. She was the only conservative woman who agreed to be his running mate, as all three  conservative women in the Senate already said no, and the Republicans couldn’t find a black conservative.

(I’m not making this up.)

Anyway, come 2008, the conservatives lose their goddamn minds because Bush’s reign of actual terror was over, a Black man is now President and Whiteness is in peril. This was before the term “triggered” became a popular sneer in the conservative dictionary, but “snowflake” was used a lot. Come 2009, the Tea Party emerges. And now we get to the crux of my, uh, observation.

For the young, uninitiated, or non-Americans who are thinking “What the fuck is wrong with America”, the Tea Party Movement was/is a rash of hardline rightwingers who, still licking their wounds from a sound beating by the Democrats in the 2008 election, sought to rebrand themselves. With some bootstrap lifting and millions of dollars in funding from media tycoons such as the Koch brothers, the Tea Party made its official debut in 2010 after the signing of the Affordable Healthcare Act. Their message was simple: It’s time to take America back from the lazy, the entitled, and the “uppity”. What was really just a rehash of a song and dance that’s been turning its ugly white head since at least 1964 gained something of a stranglehold on America, in spite of its relatively small size of active members. It hit all the notes: a populist movement rooted in the perceived threats to their faith, their culture, and their social and economic capital.

They also believed shit like this:

For instance, Tea Partiers are more likely than other conservatives to agree with statements such as “If blacks would only try harder they could be just as well off as whites,” and are more likely to disagree with statements like “Generations of slavery and discrimination have created conditions that make it difficult for blacks to work their way out of the lower class.” (Williamson, 34)

Like I said. Since 1964.

What made the Tea Party different from the other conservative temper tantrums was one thing: Internet access. All of a sudden, these angry white men had an outlet for voicing their rages, and an open recruiting forum for other malcontents and disaffected youths. I’m not implying the Tea Party had anything to do with Gamergate, nor that Gamergate had anything to do with the rise of the alt-right or whatever these tennybopper neo-Nazis are calling themselves now, but I am saying those circles at least touch in a Venn diagram.

“But tes-trash-blog! What do the machinations of American politics have to do with Elves?” you may ask. Well dear reader, this leads me to..

Part 2: Hey, you! You’re finally awake!

Skyrim was an overnight hit. On release, The Elder Scrolls 5 generated 450 million dollars on its opening weekend alone. This game sold for around 20 million copies, not including Special Edition, VR, or Switch, and continues to see an average of around 10,000 players a week 9 years later (Steamcharts).

And 20 million people see one thing first: A strong, noble Nord in captivity, telling you that you’re on your way to be executed by the Imperials, who are in bed with a scary, sneering bunch of High Elves dressed in black.  20 million people already were told who was the clear bad guy in this game, and it wasn’t the strong, noble Nord in captivity. I’ll be going into this more into Part 3, but suffice to say, the Imperials were already coded as Bad Guy by association. The Imperials decided to execute you, the player. They shot a man in the back because he ran from his own execution. He stole a horse, which was a crime punishable by death in those days. The game doesn’t tell you that part, and is content to say that Lokir was killed because he was in the same cart as the Stormcloaks.

Speaking of Imperials, the Third Empire is written as obtuse, corrupt, uncaring, and cruel. The Septim Dynasty is wrought with scandal and intrigue, plagued by conflict, and powerless to do anything about the Oblivion Crisis that almost ended the world. They flat out abandoned Morrowind and Summerset to better protect their own, offered no help during the Void Nights that destabilized the Khajiit, and worst of all, signed a treaty outlawing Talos worship. That is the crux on which the Stormcloak/Imperial conflict lies. These damned outsiders telling these humble Nords what to do and what not to do. They’re corrupt, lazy, and know nothing of the hardships these people endure, and now the nanny state Empire is telling them they don’t have the freedom to worship what they want? How dare they!

Going further, in the seat of Imperial power in Skyrim is none other than Jarl Elisif, a young widow who relies heavily on the advice of her (overwhelmingly male) thanes, stewards, and generals. She’s weak, thinks mostly of her dead husband, and is written as someone who overreacts to scenarios; the “legion of troops” to Wolfskull Cave over a farmer reporting strange noises, banning the Burning of King Olaf in the wake of her husband’s murder via Shout come to mind. Compare and contrast that to the seat of Stormcloak power, Windhelm. Ulfric spends his time pouring over the map of troop movements and discussing strategy when he’s not delivering his big damn “Why I Fight” speech. Elisif is weak, Ulfric is strong. The Jarl of Solitude is even told to tone it down during the armistice negotiations in Season Unending. She’s chastised by her own general. The first thing you see in Solitude is a man being executed for opening a gate. The first thing you see in Windhelm is two Nords harassing a Dark Elf woman and accusing her of being an Imperial spy.

Both are portrayed as horrific, but only one has bystanders decrying the acts of the offender. Only one has a relative in the crowd proclaim, “That’s my brother [they’re executing]!” The best you get with Suvaris is her confronting you about whether or not you “hate her kind”. Even a mouth breathing racist would be disinclined to say “yes” when confronted with the question of whether or not they’re racist, but that’s how the writers of Skyrim think racism works.

I acknowledge that this was an attempt at bothsidesism, but the handling was.. clumsy.

Part 3: Ur-Fascism, Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Bash The Stormcloaks

And now we move on to Umberto Eco, fiction writer, essayist, and writer of the famous essay Ur-Fascism. In short, Eco summarizes 14 separate properties of a fascist movement; it’s important to stress that this should not be treated as a checklist if a piece of media is fascist, or if a person is actually a Nazi, or to say “X is Bad Because Checklist”. It’s frankly impossible to even organize these points into a coherent system, as fascism is an ideology that is, by its nature, incoherent.

With that in mind, let’s run down the points:

1. “The Cult of Tradition”, characterized by cultural syncretism, even at the risk of internal contradiction. When all truth has already been revealed by Tradition, no new learning can occur, only further interpretation and refinement.

2. “The Rejection of Modernism”, which views the rationalistic development of Western culture since the Enlightenment as a descent into depravity. Eco distinguishes this from a rejection of superficial technological advancement, as many fascist regimes cite their industrial potency as proof of the vitality of their system.

3. “The Cult of Action for Action’s Sake”, which dictates that action is of value in itself, and should be taken without intellectual reflection. This, says Eco, is connected with anti-intellectualism and irrationalism, and often manifests in attacks on modern culture and science.

4. “Disagreement Is Treason” – Fascism devalues intellectual discourse and critical reasoning as barriers to action, as well as out of fear that such analysis will expose the contradictions embodied in a syncretistic faith.

5. “Fear of Difference", which fascism seeks to exploit and exacerbate, often in the form of racism or an appeal against foreigners and immigrants.

6. “Appeal to a Frustrated Middle Class”, fearing economic pressure from the demands and aspirations of lower social groups.

7. “Obsession with a Plot” and the hyping-up of an enemy threat. This often combines an appeal to xenophobia with a fear of disloyalty and sabotage from marginalized groups living within the society (such as the German elite’s ‘fear’ of the 1930s Jewish populace’s businesses and well-doings, or any anti-Semitic conspiracy ever).

8. Fascist societies rhetorically cast their enemies as “at the same time too strong and too weak.” On the one hand, fascists play up the power of certain disfavored elites to encourage in their followers a sense of grievance and humiliation. On the other hand, fascist leaders point to the decadence of those elites as proof of their ultimate feebleness in the face of an overwhelming popular will.

9. “Pacifism is Trafficking with the Enemy” because “Life is Permanent Warfare” – there must always be an enemy to fight. Both fascist Germany under Hitler and Italy under Mussolini worked first to organize and clean up their respective countries and then build the war machines that they later intended to and did use, despite Germany being under restrictions of the Versailles treaty to NOT build a military force. This principle leads to a fundamental contradiction within fascism: the incompatibility of ultimate triumph with perpetual war.

10. “Contempt for the Weak”, which is uncomfortably married to a chauvinistic popular elitism, in which every member of society is superior to outsiders by virtue of belonging to the in-group. Eco sees in these attitudes the root of a deep tension in the fundamentally hierarchical structure of fascist polities, as they encourage leaders to despise their underlings, up to the ultimate Leader who holds the whole country in contempt for having allowed him to overtake it by force.

11. “Everybody is Educated to Become a Hero”, which leads to the embrace of a cult of death. As Eco observes, “[t]he Ur-Fascist hero is impatient to die. In his impatience, he more frequently sends other people to death.”

12. “Machismo”, which sublimates the difficult work of permanent war and heroism into the sexual sphere. Fascists thus hold “both disdain for women and intolerance and condemnation of nonstandard sexual habits, from chastity to homosexuality.”

13. “Selective Populism” – The People, conceived monolithically, have a Common Will, distinct from and superior to the viewpoint of any individual. As no mass of people can ever be truly unanimous, the Leader holds himself out as the interpreter of the popular will (though truly he dictates it). Fascists use this concept to delegitimize democratic institutions they accuse of “no longer represent[ing] the Voice of the People.”

14. “Newspeak” – Fascism employs and promotes an impoverished vocabulary in order to limit critical reasoning.

I did copy and paste the list from Wikipedia, but you can read the full essay here. It’s 9 pages long. You can do it, I have faith in you.

You may notice that you can’t really shorthand these concepts, or at least not in an aesthetically pleasing way. However, you can point to the most infamous of fascist regimes and take their aesthetic instead. You see it in Star Wars with the Empire (hmm) and the First Order, in Star Trek with the Mirrorverse and the Cardassian Dominion (hmm), and in the.. Oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue..

Oh, yeah. The Thalmor. They dress in dark colors, are a foreign power trying to exert their influence on the downtrodden Nord, enact purges, and scream about Elven superiority. The Thalmor express every surface level perception of a Nazi in American popular culture. TVTropes has already pretty well covered this ground in their Video Games section of A Nazi By Any Other Name, so I won’t go too much into here seeing as I’m already at the 2000 word mark. Suffice to say, it’s hard to think Bethesda wasn’t trying to make the player associate the 4th Era Altmer with the 1930’s German.

And in doing so, they accidentally created a group that is.. Well, you’ve read the essay or at least the 14 points. Try and tell me how many of them don’t apply to Nordic culture. What grabs me the most are points 9, 11, and 13: life is a perpetual struggle in which you must emerge victorious, a culture of Heroes impatient to die in a glorious fashion, and the Common Will that is enacted and reinforced by one strongman leader. You see these elements in play in Nord culture, in Stormcloak ideology especially. I, for one, hear what Galmar really means when he says “We will make Skyrim beautiful again”. I hear the echoes in George W Bush’s speeches and McCain’s campaign when Ulfric talks of duty and service, of “fighting because Skyrim needs heroes, and there’s no one else but us.”

It’s less of a dog whistle and more of a foghorn if you ask me. And to go back to part 2, this is a message that 20 million played. Not all of them are Stormcloak stans, but that compelling message was still present. Americans love being a strongman hero in their media; we eat that shit up. The setup was enough: you’re a lone hero about to be executed by milquetoast Imperials and Nazi-coded Thalmor. The story was enough: a strong man rebels against a system gone awry, one that seeks to destroy his way of life. 

It was enough to compel a “fashwave” artist to take on the monkier Stormcloak(Hann). It was enough that Skyrim was lauded as a “real” game instead of say, Depression Quest, and to justify ruining a game developer’s life over it.

It was enough that when Skyrim came out in 2011, the game did not do so well in Germany because of these elements, because the game was written for you to be sympathetic towards these very white, very blond and Ayran-coded Nords. I can’t speak for the popularity of the game now in Germany, but when I lived there, there were a few raised eyebrows among my age group about the message of the game.

I think about that a lot, especially when the tesblr discourse heats up about the Stormcloaks. I see how visibly upset people get when someone throws shade at Ulfric. The talk of “it’s just a video game” and “lul get triggered” starts to look less like passive dismissal and shoddy trolling and more a kind of funhouse mirror to how they really think.

I can’t lie, it reminds me so much of 2009, of these angry people screaming racial slurs on the Internet because there’s a Black president or posting sexist screeds because Michelle Obama wanted kids to have access to healthy meals. It reminds me of the kid in my sophomore class who said he was going to “take out” Obama on his inauguration day. He was 15 years old then. He’s a father now.

Hell, it reminds me of right now, of Republican Senators demanding civility and tone policing as they kowtow to an actual fascist. The Stormcloak in the Reach camp “had to do something” about the Empire telling him and his what to do, and the neighbor I used to dogsit for had to do something too. I don’t watch his dogs anymore. When I told him I wouldn’t, he tried to make himself the victim and say I was getting political about dog sitting. It’s just two dogs. It’s just a video game. All political messages are just imaginary, snowflake.

But it’s really not, is it now?

TL;DR and Sources

TL;DR: The imperials are portrayed as weak and effectual, as the bootlicker to the Thalmor, and the writers were so busy trying to make one side look bad and weak they inadvertently made actual fascists.

Even though this is pretty long, this really only scratches the surface of the.. Well, everything. In all honesty this is just a very condensed version of my opinion. Big shockeroo, there.

Do keep in mind that this isn’t a condemnation of Skyrim. Lord knows I love that game, or I wouldn’t have this blog. This also isn’t a damning of people who play the game and side with the Stormcloaks, or think Ulfric is hot, or don’t like the Thalmor or what have you. You do you, fam. You do you. This is my observation and opinion on one aspect of the game, just with some tasty sources to better paint a picture of where I personally formed my opinion.

This also isn’t to say that I’m trying to draw a 1:1 comparison between The Elder Scrolls and reality, or that Ulfric is obviously a McCain/Trump/Hitler expy, but Skyrim is, like all things, a product of the minds that created it. Skyrim didn’t happen in an apolitical vacuum, and apolitical stories about war simply do not exist. Anyone who tells you otherwise is simply reinforcing the status quo, and it is our responsibility as people who consume this media to question it, and that status quo they so dearly wish to hang on to.

Also, Elisif hot.

Sources:

Eco, Umberto. “Ur-Fascism”. The New York Review of Books. 1995. https://www.pegc.us/archive/Articles/eco_ur-fascism.pdf>

Williamson, Venssa, Skocpol, Theda and Coggin, John. “The Tea Party and the Remaking of Republican Conservatism”. Perspectives on Politics, Volume 9. March 2011. https://scholar.harvard.edu/files/williamson/files/tea_party_pop_0.pdf>

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Steamcharts.com https://steamcharts.com/app/72850>

Schreier, Jason. “Bethesda Ships 7M Skyrim, Earns About $450M”. Wired. November 16, 2011. https://www.wired.com/2011/11/skyrim-sales/>

Hann, Michael. “‘Fashwave” - synth music co-opted by the far right”. The Guardian. December 2014. https://www.theguardian.com/music/musicblog/2016/dec/14/fashwave-synth-music-co-opted-by-the-far-right>