#it would be too much work and it’s not as glamorized as their ‘revolution’

[jewishbarbies]

would love an actual explanation of how beating each other up on an american college campus helps a conflict in the middle east at all. how is a protest on an american college campus helping at all. why are you wasting your time screaming at college students, attacking random passersby, and occupying college buildings instead of volunteering with charities and doing everything you can to raise money and support for them? why are you not working within the political system to get your representatives on board and organizing within your community to get votes for change? why are you not doing ANYTHING that will actually help people in gaza.

[toon-topaz]

Knock Out headcanon

So you know how Knockout’s whole thing is that he’s vain right? He treasures looking good above all, his paint job is very important to him.

Now this headcanon is purely based on Transformers Prime, I know he has like a backstory in the comics but I’m gonna ignore it for now because it’s my post. It’s a bit long so read at your own risk.

I think KO grew up poor. Like he started out on the streets, without any resources to sustain himself and especially not take care of his appearance. He would have been a medic purely out of necessity, providing care for the low caste mechs who the “real” doctors would never treat. He didn’t get an education or a medical license but learned everything he knows through experience. I feel like it would make a very interesting parallel to Ratchet, being more on the privileged end of life.

It would also give him a good reason to choose the Cons in the first place, he may be opportunistic and only interested in his own security, but it would make sense why he joined a revolution if they could provide a proper benefit to him.

I imagine he’d start out neutral, working with a black market organ trafficking ring, until he has to pick a side and chooses the one who accepts his rather unhinged and unpleasant beginnings.

Then there’s the crux of my reasoning, of why I think he would have been poor. He never had the security to be able to really take care of himself beyond the basics, but once he joins the Cons, suddenly he has the resources to spare on experimenting with stuff that isn’t purely for survival. He can have fun. He can get a new frame and a flashy paint job, just because he wants to. While money doesn’t buy happiness, it does buy the security and time with which to pursue happiness.

I think Knockout’s vanity and arrogance is a product of his pride and his happiness at finally HAVING a better life. And he either consciously or subconsciously associates his appearance with his success in life, the fact he can afford to maintain it is so special to him. And he’d do anything to keep that glamorous life he now has.

Am I reading too much into a cartoon robot? Probably.

Is it that deep? Probably not, maybe he’s just vain and narcissistic because he’s a villain in a kid’s show (and his blatant queercoding is also meant to convey his evilness which is a whole heap of problematic but I love it regardless and won’t go into it here).

I just think it’s fun to look beyond the flashy exterior and ask why sometimes, because I’m a huge nerd who likes to psychoanalyze fictional characters for fun.

[tormxntum]

{fRichard Madden, 35, genderfluid, they/them} We are so glad to see you safe, [COMMANDING OFFICER OF MILITARY] [CAILEAN ALEXANDER FERGUSSON] of [SCOTLAND]! It’s dangerous out in the world these days, but I hear that you are [DEDICATED] and [IDEALISTIC] enough to handle it. Just don’t let your [CALCULATING] bring you down! Stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out [AS THE LEADER OF A GROUP OF REBELS THAT ARE HELLBENT ON DETHRONING THE STUARTS, THEY SHOULD WANT SCOTLAND TO BE A DEMOCRATIC COUNTRY, BUT THEY SECRETLY WANT THE THRONE FOR THEMSELF]. 

The History Forgotten By Most

Cailean’s family may now reside in a luxurious manor in a town not far from Edinburgh. They may own more land than they know what to do with, and the entire country respects them, but it has all been built on lies. Cailean was not born within the mansion walls, nor were they born with a silver spoon in their mouth. They were five years old when their mother told them that their name was now Cailean Alexander Fergusson, a name fit for the son of a chief, but they couldn’t understand why they had to change their last name and why they had to forget about where they were born... But they never forgot how they grew up in a small cottage in Sutherland, in the northern part of the highlands. Nor will they forget how their parents were farmers who barely had enough food to feed their six children, yet they never gave up. They worked hard, and so did their children, and while they didn’t have much, they were happy and content. 

Cailean only has a few memories from when they lived in Sutherland. But they remember their brothers' cold toes against their shin while sharing a bed with two of their older brothers, and they remember their back and knees aching after a long day of working out in the field. They remember being happy, or maybe they have always looked at the time in their old home through rose-colored glasses because of what happened next.

They had been too young to understand why they had lost their land. How was a child supposed to understand that the reason their stomach growled was because of their king's greed? They couldn't have possibly known their family was yet another victim of the Highland clearances. With their land lost, their little cottage burning, and their family starving, they moved south, hoping their luck would finally favor them. 

They moved between towns, hoping their father would get a job, but there was nothing for him. Cailean couldn't understand it. If Scotland was doing great after the new king had taken the throne, then why was their family suffering?

Their Luck Did Favour Them At Last. 

It could have only been their father’s sheer desperation that led him to the ancestral home of the Fergusson clan after the death of the chief, claiming the chiefdom to be their birthright. He had no legitimate claim for the title; his family knew that, yet somehow, he managed to produce proof and earn the respect of the people who called themselves the Sons of Fergus, the sons of the angry. 

They went from being on the brink of starvation to one of the most influential families in Scotland. Cailean’s father became one of the closest friends of the Stuart king, but he never forgot the hunger or shame of losing his farm. He made sure no one could ever doubt their legitimacy. He threw the most glamorous balls, and his children excelled in their studies and military careers, but none had forgotten; Cailean and their siblings shared his anger towards the king and the monarchy; they wanted to watch it burn. 

As the years passed by and the kids grew older, their father passed; it seemed as if the anger about the struggle they were forced to face because of people whose greed overshadowed everything else had died with him, but Cailean never forgot. 

The Rebellion

From a young age, Cailean harbored a burning desire for revenge, yet they lacked a concrete plan for revolution. Their decision to leave home at sixteen was not driven by a desire to overthrow the king, nor was their attraction to their commanding officer rooted in his rebel status. However, these seemingly unrelated choices would soon thrust them into the heart of a revolution.

Perhaps Cailean would have returned home to the manor they didn't belong in, disgruntled by how things worked in Scotland but content with what they had if it hadn't been for Malcolm. 

Years later, Cailean would wonder whether they were only drawn to him because of his position within the rebellion or if they truly loved him. He offered them a chance to get the revenge they had longed for; with him, they could at least try to make Scotland a better place. 

Cailean was blinded by what they could accomplish; they did not take a moment to think of the danger they were putting themselves in, not even when Malcolm came up with the wild idea of assassinating the king. What could go wrong? Of course, everything went wrong. He was arrested, leaving the rebellion and Cailean utterly lost. 

Cailean and the rebellion would have faded into the shadows with Malcolm's death if the king had not extended an unexpected offer. But this opportunity was too significant to ignore. They had to seize it and, in doing so, get one step closer to bringing the Stuarts to their knees. 

Now, years later, they are the commanding officer of the Scottish military and the leader of rebels who are hellbent on dethroning the Stuarts. They used to dream of Scotland becoming a democratic country, and they fought for it. But now they wish to sit on the throne the Stuarts didn't deserve.

TL:DR

While everyone believes Cailean is the son of a chief, making their family part of the elite, it is all based on a lie. Their family were poor highland farmers who had to leave their home after their landlord and the king took their land for their own gain. After traveling between towns looking for employment, Cailean’s father forged their lineage to take advantage of the death of the Fergussons’ chief. He was a fraud who, along with his family, managed to infiltrate the elite of Scotland and, eventually, the king. Cailean was never able to forget their anger, not even after their father passed away. 

They ran away from home when they were 16 years old, joining the military, where they met Malcolm. A charismatic commanding officer of the military and a leader of a rebel group. They were drawn to him, but were they in love with him or the possibility of using his rebels to punish the monarchy? After Malcolm was arrested when an assassination attempt went wrong, Cailean became the commanding officer, and they used their new position to make the rebellion even stronger than it had been under Malcolm. They would not stop at nothing until the Stuarts’ name would be forgotten. But do they want a new democracy like France, or do they believe someone else should control Scotland? Perhaps the rebels themselves? 

[sakebytheriver]

Okay.

So to be completely candid and honest with you all, I don't really care too much about this particular twitter drama going on about the left and disaffected white men and boys and how better to appeal to them, I think it's petty and kind of dumb and most of the people weighing in on it are the same that attacked that person for cooking for their neighbors, because ultimately this issue is about being neighborly and about how capitalism has separated all of us, including white men, from our sense of community and building good relationships/allyships with the people around us, but you know what, here it is, my two cents

The system is set up in such a way that falling into this alt-right stuff is the default for all human beings, when we talk about how there is systematic racism and patriarchal constructs ingrained into our societal structure we mean that they are so embedded that they have basically become the systems themselves, resisting them is out of the norm, resisting them is supposed to be hard, it takes even people they directly oppress years to dismantle the racist and misogynistic beliefs they've subconsciously absorbed into their own minds and biases, so for white men who seemingly reep all the benefits going against these systems is especially difficult and these alt-right pipelines target them when they're young and they're brains are still squishy and moldable, it's hard to break away from something you learned to believe as a kid, but it's not impossible and anything that can be done to pull them back is something we should do. That's what diversity of tactics is supposed to mean, for the time being we have to work within these systems and so yeah that means pretty much the only way these kids will get deradicalized is by some dumbfuck leftist streamer, I'm real sorry, but the revolution is not going to come to dismantle these systems in the blink of an eye and fix everything, the leftist movement in America and in the world in general is still so small, there's basically no mainstream leftist news channels, but Fox News is considered one of the most reputable sources of information while actively employing scare tactics, openly lying, and even encouraging genocidal ideologies straight into the brains of over half the population of the entire country, the enemy is so much bigger than us, guys, at this point we dont even have one foot to stand on, we have to engage in guerilla warfare here, our methods are not their methods, we do not want to exterminate or punish, we want to rehabilitate and unify

The fact of the matter is the way these systems are set up is meant to look glamorous to white men in particular while they subjugate everyone else, but at the same time they are absolutely debilitating to those same white men and we need to be able to reach those white men/boys and show them how their lives would be better without them and at the same time talk about the way these systems compounded with the late stage capitalism we are living under means that they're lives suck even more, because corporations are taking away all sense of community and ramping up the division between all groups of the working class to make it easier to exploit them, hence the disaffection, and look, let's be real with ourselves here, when one side is telling you that you're the cream of the crop and it's everyone else who is the problem while the other is seemingly blaming you for every problem it's not exactly a surprise that some dumb fuck teenagers fall down an edgy alt-right youtube rabbit hole and grow up into even worse men.

These systems are the way almost everyone has lived for centuries the dismantling of them is going to be hard and it can't be done without unity, to steal someone else's words who was a much better speaker than I am,

"We're going to fight racism not with racism, but we're going to fight with solidarity. We say we're not going to fight capitalism with black capitalism, but we're going to fight it with socialism." ~Fred Hampton

We must appeal to every person in the world on the left, a better world must involve everyone, and that includes white men, I'm gonna be real I don't really care to police any leftist in the way they talk about white men as a force for oppression, but I do think sometimes talking directly to them in particular is good too, we need to talk to every single group of people on this god's green earth directly and show them the ways escaping from the systemic oppression inflicted by racism and patriarchy and dismantling capitalism will be a net good for every single human being, including white men, that the feelings of disaffectedness these white men and teenage boys in particular are feeling is coming from these systems and their lives would be better without them, not by becoming a pawn in service of them

It is so easy to reduce white men/boys to The Enemy, but they're not, part of leftist ideology is dismantling the prison/justice system's emphasis on punishment which often boarders on cruel and unusual and has been proven to only make the problem worse and cause more reoffenders rather than letting people reintegrate into society to lead healthy productive lives (of course we need to talk about how to reinvest in our underfunded communities and social service programs to combat the prison system problem but that's a different post), we cannot state to want to build a united and kinder world where we focus on rehabilitative justice while turning our noses up on a group of people who need just that kind of rehabilitation

Are white men's issues the biggest issues the left should be focusing on?

God no.

But that doesn't mean it isn't one of the problems that should be on the list, just because it's not high priority doesn't mean we ignore it completely, the world exists in shades of grey, no issue is ever as black and white as you think it is, allow nuance into your life or we will never reach the perfect leftist utopia you so desparately say you want

[ahungeringknife]

I genuinely love the story Spencer and Sunni are in. It's a real neat like... industrial revolution just kicked off and there's steam punk shit but also Magic is still a thing and so those two worlds are colliding RAPIDLY.

Also Spencer rides a GIANT fucking dog who's main purpose in life is fucking up witches

January 12

Sunni peered around the corner of the hallway where Spencer was talking with his dad. He was still dressed in his hunting outfit and Sunni thought he looked extra handsome like that with the thigh high boots and belt with extra loops to attach himself to Cedar while in transit, holding his hat under an arm. They were having a serious conversation but at this range Sunni could only hear their voices but not what they were saying.

"What'cha doing-?"

Sunni shrieked in surprise at the voice in his ear and almost threw a punch. Mia just laughed at him, hands on their hips, almost too wide smile spread across their human face. "Mia, don't sneak up on me," he scolded them. Fairy glamor didn't always work best on other Wild Things and Sunni could still see their nearly transparent dragonfly-like wings behind them buzzing in amusement. "None of your business," he said.

Mia leaned around the corner too. "You're so predictable Moai," they scoffed. "Of course it's about your favorite little human," they needled him and pinched his cheek hard, giving him a hard time, using their long wiry frame to curl around him.

He batted them off him. "You're such a gnat."

"Everything okay over here?" and Sunni started but Mia wasn't even surprised when the father and son came around the corner. "We heard a shout," Gerard said, dark skinned face creased in a frown.

"It was nothing. Mia just snuck up on me," Sunni punched them in the side. Mia hardly bothered to notice.

"Don't cause a scene Rïvûrthenæ," Gerard said and Sunni still didn't know how he said that word with his mouth so well. Sunni couldn't do it. "Parliament is still in session and I don't want it disrupted because you're making the prince scream."

"Well maybe he should be a bit braver," Mia said and leaned their arm on Sunni's shoulder.

"I'm sending a correspondence to the Monarch next week on state of affairs. Don't give me an excuse," Gerard said.

"Uhhhg, you humans are so boring," they complained.

"You're the one who came to Parliament," Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "Isn't the Wild Council meeting right now?"

"No it's not," Mia said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh you didn't hear? Me and Cedar just came to deliver a message from the western forest about the ents. Something like they're about to go to blows with the logging company there-

Mia was gone in an instant, racing down the hallway the way Spencer and his father had come from. "That wasn't very nice either, Spenc," Gerard said to his son.

"Eh they'll forgive me," he grinned.

"There's no problems with the ents huh?" Sunni asked.

"Nope."

"There haven't been ents south of Glaigon in three hundred years," Gerard said. Sunni stared at them both and then covered his mouth to laugh. Spencer was still grinning. Gerard sighed softly, "Now I need to go to the Council and make sure Rïvûrthenæ doesn't cause a scene."

"Have fun," Spencer said and Gerard left. "I didn't expect you at Parliament," Spencer said looking at Sunni.

Sunni fiddled with his hands a moment. "I was hoping to find you here. Your letters said you were out west," he said.

"Oh. I guess the post didn't get to you before you left. I'm going to be in the capital for a while."

"Really? That's good." Then, shyly, he added, "I missed you."

"You're funny. I missed you too," Spencer said and leaned to give him a soft kiss. Had this been a few years ago Sunni would have fainted but he'd gotten used to it by now and used to humans being so okay with their public displays of affection. "It's almost winter though so the Parliament and Council won't need me and Cedar as much." He grabbed one of Sunni's hands and his hand was covered in a worked leather glove. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Y-yes. Can we talk?"

"Sure. Should I worry about Cedar?"

"I don't think so," Sunni said slowly.

"There's a bench just outside of that door," and Spencer guided him out of the Parliament building to one of the courtyards and indeed there was a bench. They sat and Spencer stretched out his legs. "These things get so fucking itchy," he groused and Sunni laughed when Spencer unzipped part of his boot to shove his entire hand into it to scratch around his calf. "Ah! Way better, so what'd you want to talk about?" he asked as he zipped the boot back up.

"Do you think this will be a permanent thing?" Sunni asked him.

"Hmm?" Spencer rose a black eyebrow at him.

"Us."

"I dunno why it wouldn't be? Unless your dad's acting up. My parents don't really care and Renny's girlfriend is interested in having kids later so it's not like I'm honor bound to keep up the family name or anything," Spencer rolled his eyes.

"He has been... speaking to me about this," Sunni admitted. "And he says stupid things I know can't work but they're still good points."

"Like what?" Spencer asked.

"He said if I was really serious I'd give you my skin full time and not just when we see each other. Even though it's no use to you!" Sunni huffed in annoyance and folded his arms. "And I wouldn't be able to go home if you had it." Spencer groaned in sympathy of having an overbearing dad. "And he says if you were serious you'd reciprocate."

Spencer blinked. "You've told him humans can't just shed a skin like a selkie right?" he asked Sunni.

"Of course!" Sunni cried. Spencer gently shushed him and he was very upset about his father. "But he says I need to stop playing around with some human when there are plenty of good suitors back home. Especially when 'that human' can't even participate in our traditions." He was so worked up he was almost about to cry in frustration.

Spencer hugged him. "Sorry your dad sucks, Sunshine," he said and Sunni sniffed but he did like that nickname. "He sounds real hung up on this traditional skin exchanging yeah?"

"Yes. And humans, like most creatures, don't have second skins. It's so frustrating trying to reason with him about this. He's such a traditionalist. Even more than uncle Koa-

"Which seems crazy because your uncle is such a hard ass for tradition." Sunni nodded and wiped his eyes on Spencer's shirt. "Is it important for you?" Spencer asked him.

"I guess?" Sunni sniffed and sat up from him. "I know you can't so I don't care. And it isn't like I can just give you mine and go back to my dad like 'look I did it now leave me alone' because you'll have my skin."

Spencer looked pensive just holding Sunni's hand. "If you give me your skin you're stuck on land until I lend it back, right?"

"Yeah," Sunni nodded.

"So you'd have to stay here?"

"I guess."

"So you'd be able to stay with me?"

Sunni stared at him. "You'd want that?"

"Better than stuck at home with Renny all winter," Spencer said and made such a disgusted face Sunni laughed. "And your uncle can just tell your dad what happened."

"But... you don't have a skin," Sunni said.

"When's not having a plan stopped me before?"

"And has almost got you or your sister killed every time?" Sunni asked.

"Yeah but this is just a skin. I'll ask Holly. I'm sure she's got something I can sub in for a selkie skin that will be okay with your dad."

Sunni wasn't so sure. Dealings with hags rarely went great but Holly had known Spencer since before he was even born. She didn't want anything malicious for him or Renny. "Okay," he said slowly.

"I'll handle it and you don't worry about your dad, okay?" Spencer said. "He thinks tradition is going to break us up he's never dealt with a Witch Bane on a mission."

Sunni blinked at him dumbly, "Mission for what?"

"To have you stay with me, duh! Dummy," and Spencer kissed him again. Sunni kissed him back. They only parted at the sound of loud barking coming from the front of Parliament. "Ceder," Spencer grumbled under his breath. "He only barks when it's important. I gotta go see what it's about."

"Okay. Be safe," Sunni said.

"When am I not?" Spencer asked, standing up and pulling on his riding hat.

"Shall I get the list?" Sunni asked him back sarcastically.

Spencer chuckled. "It's Vangild, how dangerous could it be?" he smirked and then left Sunni sitting on the bench.

Deep Water Prompt #2822

Here is what they won’t tell you. When a selkie who loves you offers you her pelt, she will expect your skin in return.

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

[flickeringart]

Neptune in aspect with Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Pluto and Chiron

(Read my other posts 1: Neptune aspecting Sun & Moon, 2: Neptune aspecting Mercury & Venus, 3: Neptune aspecting Mars)

It is always difficult to interpret aspects of generational planets to other generational planets because they are such big forces and encompasses such broad complexity that it would take a genius to accurately convey their impact through the Mercurial function; verbal and written communication. The social and collective planets are describing the bigger picture of what is going on a societal and global scale – but they do matter in the personal natal chart because they indicate the overall collective climate that one was born into and will inevitably color the personal life experience. When I refer to “collective tendencies” in describing these aspects I’m therefore also referring to “personal tendencies”.

Neptune in aspect with Jupiter

With the harmonious aspects this would translate into a time of deep collective faith and belief in the transience of the world as well as a faith in the ability to be redeemed through the correct attitude and positive expectations. This is a typical aspect of “follow your heart and your dreams” which is often considered extremely naïve by more “realistic” people. With this aspect forming at a point in time, there’s a greater collective tendency to take chances and put one’s luck in the hands of the universe. This aspect lends itself to big dreams and visions, a freedom to pursue spirituality and let go of inhibitions, to pursue freedom with complete abandon of boundaries, to enjoy culture and contribute to it in order to feel closer to the divine. In case of the hard aspects, belief systems may be dissolving and reconstructed, the future might seem obscure; the erosion of culture and lost sense purpose might cause people to pursue religion or spiritual doctrine more vigorously than ever. People could attempt to escape from it all through distraction and dissociation, to cling to illusions in order to cope, or take to drugs in order to numb the sense of meaninglessness and desperation that permeates the social-societal fabric. The hard aspects could indicate disillusionment and disappointment in religious doctrine, an abandonment of belief and collective spirit. People could feel betrayed and deceived by thought leaders and visionaries leading them astray instead of enriching their lives. In any case, these two planets together combine the yearning for something sacred and transcendent with the symbolic expressions of meaning in culture and social life.

Neptune in aspect with Saturn

With the harmonious aspects this combination of planets, the collective might try to create a system of protection for the less fortunate, to provide a container for the unformed and passive souls that are helpless in the face of existence. It might also lend itself to collective fantasies of the ideal state with an ideal structure. Hard work and duty might be glorified and seen as the height of goodness. There could even be a great sense of bliss in restricting and depriving in order to chip away at a distant goal. It could also mean that there’s romanticizing and mythologizing of authority, a deep need to idealize paternal figureheads and put faith in tradition. This aspect forming at a specific point in time could generate a tendency to expect to be taken care of by society, for the powers that be to provide and coddle its citizens. There could be an expectancy to be redeemed through putting noses to the grindstone and get rewarded in this (or the next) life for doing the right thing, for believing in the system. With the harmonious aspects this might not be such a disastrous preconception to live by but with the harder aspect it becomes another story. With the hard aspects, Neptune-Saturn might express ad deep guilt and regret in not pursuing worldly goals or becoming successful – there could likewise be a sadness of not being receptive enough to have dreams and longings because of too much realism. There might be great defensiveness collectively against chaos as to make people paranoid to not loose control. Counter to what is desired; this fear might cause more disorder and a collapse of defense systems through the very effort of keeping them intact. Saturn has to do with boundaries and Neptune has to do with dissolution, which might indicate collective experiences of trying to keep things in but being unable to. Avoiding the “swamp” whatever form it comes in, would be the dilemma of these people’s lives and for the greater collective at this specific point in time. Escaping responsibility causes guilt and disorder and taking responsibility will cause guilt and disorder, whether it’s mental or physical or both. There’s dysfunction present at both ends. There would possibly be an undermining of authority taking place and simultaneously a stronger defensiveness around authority in order to not fall prey to the temptation of chaos.

Neptune in aspect with Uranus

With the harmonious aspects, this set of planets will combine themselves to create a common experience of looking to the future for redemption. That which is new is idealized and welcomed with open arms – change might seem like an appealing concept. Dreams of a utopian society where every individual is accepted and harmoniously coexisting without the necessity of rigid rules and structure might be prevalent. Faith in humanity and its capacity for genius to solve all its problems might come with this planetary contact. In fact, Neptune is sextile Uranus at this point in time, pointing to a longing for change and the opportunity to create something new that saves humanity from the “dark” past and elevates it to new heights of spiritual and scientific excellence. This is a highly idealistic combo that can produce genius solutions that are in line with the yearnings of the collective. The hard aspects can create tremendous despair and incapacity to pursue progress, without feeling like there’s an abandonment of the potential for redemption. These are the aspects that will sabotage any new endeavor and model in favor of remaining in a state of nebulous undifferentiated potential. New discoveries and insights made during the time of the hard aspects might produce great hurt and disillusionment in the collective. The new discoveries will seem to threaten that which is perceived as pure and sacred, the romantic ideals of humanity will be crushed in favor of breaking free from the limits of the status quo. The collective might polarize into people who want to jump on the band wagon of more advanced thought and the people who can’t abandon the “way things are” because of sentimentality and feeling ties. Either way, with the hard aspects there will be a conflict of the glamorous, timeless and bittersweet and the push to break out of the confines of old society. Neptune often symbolizes the urge to regress or transcend to reach a state of unity; Uranus symbolizes radical rebellion and revolution. With the hard aspects, there’s no way to have both. Uranus is too aggressive and might push people into emotional chaos, Neptune is too receptive and might consume and confuse people as to what is really going on in terms of thought advancement to ever come outside of their current mental framework.

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Neptune in aspect with Pluto

With the harmonious aspects, the Neptune-Pluto dynamic expresses itself through experience of unity through crisis. This might sound scary, but Pluto is after all representative of destruction and rebirth. With this aspect the collective longing for redemption stimulates the impulse to protect something that is necessary for survival. At this point in time Neptune is sextile Pluto, which makes sense considering the state of the world we’re in at the moment. There’s a sense of a need for survival in order to be able to guarantee a blissful destiny of humanity. The collective feeling tone is certainly categorized by fear and paranoia at this time, but also of greater oneness because the whole world is going through this pandemic. With the Neptune-Pluto sextile there’s a need for drastic measures in order to survive the pressure that is felt. The way to Eden is through the darkness. Pluto is in Capricorn, which suggests the desire to protect and control the structure of society at all costs – hard work and endurance is necessary for survival on a collective level. To ensure integrity of the building blocks of society becomes more important than anything else.

With the hard aspects between these planets, the picture becomes less appealing. The urge to merge and retreat into the world of pre/post existence to find healing and peace inevitably causes chaos and violent destruction. The collective would find that the fear and pressure that is experienced is too much to handle. Taking control and exercising power destroys all the hope of beauty and love in the world. This aspect could indicate a time of heart-breaking vulnerability and a lot of fear and need to escape into a dream of how things could be. People born around the years of 1814-1822 seem to have Neptune square Pluto in their charts if you look it up on astrotheme.com. These people would’ve been born into a collective climate of hopelessness and despair to some extent, of power wielded over the weak. There would’ve been a necessity to surrender to the threat of death, to accept the unacceptable and either give up power or use it at the expense of sensitivity and compassion. Karl Marx is a good example of an individual with the square aspect because it falls across two angular houses, Pluto in the 1st  house of self and Neptune in the 10thhouse of public image. The conflict between Neptune-Pluto is consequently evident in his persona. Publicly he’s known for his ideas about how the ideal society should be run (Neptune conjunct Uranus in the 10th). He argued that class tension and antagonism that developed under capitalism was unsustainable – the ruling classes controlling the means of production and the working class offering their labor in exchange for wages would not work in the long run in his opinion. The working class would eventually develop class-consciousness and conquer political power to establish a classless communist society. In this case, Neptune symbolizes the working class and Pluto the ruling class - in Marx’s experience these were at odds with each other (as reflected in his chart). His opinions certainly came from his inner personal tension of needing to identify as powerful (Pluto 1st house) and to offer a recipe of redemption as a part of his life’s work (Neptune in the 10th). I’m sure he felt powerful in himself, yet despairingly at loss when having to contribute to society. Undoubtedly, he felt like he had to give up his power to serve at the feet of the ruling class, to “give himself up”, like Neptune often nudges us to.

Neptune in aspect with Chiron

The harmonious aspects would translate into a peak experience through suffering, a sense of being touched by the sublime through the unintended infliction of pain, whether it’s physical or psychological. Redemption is inextricably linked with the misfortunes and wounding that can’t be cured with current scientific method. Suffering is somehow a vehicle for finding a sense of unity with the remainder of life, it makes for a transcendent experiences that allows for ecstatic bliss in conjunction with permanent damage and disability. At the point in time of the aspect’s formation there might be an unusual acceptance and romanticizing of disability, even to the point of elevating it to something divine and sacred. Knowledge and methods of healing are pursued as a means of redemption, a means of returning to Eden. Technique and skill to remedy the wounds of the collective are sought with a deeper emotional hunger. Compassion and unconditional love might be seen as the key component to healing. Artistry, creativity, music, drug use, alcohol, meditation, hypnosis and emotional surrender might be sought in the name of healing. There could be an effort to collectively spread as much knowledge and insight as possible in order to cure a little bit of the ignorance that causes so much trouble in society. Living with a permanent wound unites people, it connects the souls of the world in mutual longing to go “home”, to return to oneness. The wound stimulates a longing for fusion, which might express itself through a deep understanding of people’s suffering. Princess Diana is a perfect example of someone with the trine; she saw the universality of suffering and wasn’t hesitant to shower “love” on people with severe sickness or disability. She saw herself in people’s pain.

The hard aspects are more gruesome, as always. Personal wounds conflict with the need for fusion and a sense of oneness with existence. At the specific point in time of this aspect there might’ve been feelings in the collective of being fundamentally flawed and damaged to ever be redeemed and brought into the light of the eternal. There would’ve been great struggle to save people from irretrievable damage, yet the longing itself could cause more damage and additional feelings of insufficiency. There could’ve been a tendency to cover up the wound, numb it out and avoid looking at it in order to have a chance at something beautiful, pure and elevated. However, the escape and dissociation from it would only make it worse. The resistance to hope would potentially make the healing journey difficult. Great sympathy could be present yet it would be frequently cancelled out by stone cold realism. Chiron is the wounded healer archetype. He uses the mind and his practical skills to cope. When he’s in hard aspect with Neptune there’s going to be tension in the face of the possibility of redemption. It might only be an illusion after all, and the dark abyss of disillusionment is nothing to gamble with– consequently people would stick to the difficult but nonetheless, real, experience of pain in front of them. However when the pain of life becomes too much and one succumbs to the sweet escape through drugs, alcohol, food, tv, spiritual practices or any other method, it might backfire terribly and cause total disintegration and victimization. A good example of someone with the square is Oprah Winfrey with Chiron in the 1sthouse and Neptune in the 10th house. She’s widely known as a person of great compassion and insight – on a public level she embodies the role of the redeemer to some extent. Her identity however is that of someone who’s been wounded yet has come to terms with the burden and has learnt to live with it. She’s generally perceived to be very wise, similar to Chiron in myth. However, in her need to heal people she makes it into a show and molds the narrative to her liking or preference sometimes. She’s deeply compassionate, yet she can also expect people to live with the permanent burden of certain pains. Her Neptune draws the public in – promises redemption, but in person, she expects people to be realistic and strip their issues down without glamorizing or mythologizing.

[an-actual-angel]

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.” You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

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Chapter 36 -  Running away is easy, Its the leaving that's hard

It had almost been two weeks since you last saw Connor and Collin. It had been tough, to say the least, you missed them like crazy. You would constantly check your phone for messages that would never come. Perhaps it didn’t take them long at all to forget about you. You couldn’t let yourself get too upset about it though, this was your decision. Maybe it was easier for them to keep their distance. It would probably work out better this way in the end.

Danny was right when he said that life in the settlement wasn't going to be glamorous, it was hard work, something you weren’t used to, coming from living cushy in a penthouse. You mostly helped out with farming the land and tending to the chickens, feeding them, cleaning out their coop, collecting eggs, etc. You also got stuck with the job of babysitting some kids from time to time. It was good to keep busy though, to keep your mind away from androids.

When you had free time, you spent it mostly with Emily, catching up, attempting to look after her, although insisted she didn’t need the fuss.

You had been staying in Emily’s shack, it was just you her and her cat Pepper, but you made a good little family. You wondered whatever happened to the father of Emily’s child, she didn’t want to talk about him too much, whoever he was. She’d just say he was away.

You didn’t want to push her but your overbearing curiosity would not sit at peace. Some other ladies around the settlement had told you he had been taken by androids.

What Emily did tell you about the child’s father was that his name was James and he was the one that saved her from the adoption centre. Well, he’d been one of the humans in the midst of the one of the riots in the city who also happened to help some of the humans escape the centre.

“Took down two androids right in front of my eyes, that how I knew he was the one.” She laughed.  

“He took down two androids? On his own?” You spluttered out, not believing her.

“Yeah, with one of these,” Emily smirked handing you over a baton.

Taking it in your hand you examine it, slightly confused until you see a button near the bottom. “Is this one of the electric ones the cops use?”

“Yep, can take out an android with a few quick buzzes.” She points her chin at you and smiles. “That’s my man, always got the good weapons.”

“I’m quite surprised you settled on a man honestly.” You smirked, “Last time I saw you, you were giving puppy dog eyes to Olivia.” You cock your head to the side, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I did have a thing for her, until she got adopted and you know. Kinda couldn’t see her anymore.”

“Liv got adopted?”

“Yeah.” Emily shrugged plainly and looked away.

“I’m sorry Emily.” You reach out your hand to touch hers.

“Why are you sorry?” She shakes her head, pulling her hand away from yours to rest on her baby bump.

“It just must have been lonely for you, without me and Liv.” You bite at the broken skin on your bottom lip.

“Yeah it was a bit, but then I met James.” She smiled a little but it faded fast. “He’ll come back you know.” She said quickly, more telling it as a way to convince herself, rather than you.

You nod back to her, not wanting to hurt your friend. “Of course Emily.”

Her hand wipes at her eye a little. “Best be getting to bed.” She stands to her feet. “You should as well” she smiles placing her hand on your shoulder.

“That’s probably a good idea.” You nod. “Big day tomorrow.”

___

You woke to the sun shining through the thin material of your makeshift curtain, with a rub of your eyes and a quick stretch you were up to start your day. Making breakfast for yourself and Emily was first on the list and then feeding Emily’s cat Pepper was second. The next few hours would be spent outside on the farm tending to some of the plants and vegetables, you would do this until lunchtime when you would have a quick bite to eat and then on to the ‘town’ meeting, a quick impromptu one that had been called by Danny.

They had received word from another settlement, one not too far from them that they would aid them in their next city raid.

“City raid?” You whispered to Emily, not understanding what he had meant.

“Yeah, we’d been planning this one for a while.” She whispers back quickly. “It’s how we get more weapons, people, stuff like that.”

“Does Connor know you guys have been doing this?” You ask.

“No. but he doesn’t need to know.” She shrugs. “We send our doughboys out with masks anyway.”

“Doughboys?” You asked even more confused than before.

“Yeah, our fighters.” She snaps as she furrows her brows. “Don’t you listen?” realising how quick she was with you she apologises “Sorry, I forgot that you’re still new around here. We call our ‘recruits’” she says with parenthesis. “Doughboys, and they get shit done. I was one before, well before y’know.” She rubs her bump.

“Never pegged you as a fighter.”

“Well, I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me then.” She laughs.

“Ladies,” Danny calls Emily and your attention back to him.

“This time it’s going to be the big one.” Danny looks around at everyone’s faces. “There are people from other settlements in the city as we speak. It’s almost our time to join them. Three days. Three more days!” His weathered hand hits the table he was standing in front of. “And we're getting our boys back.”

You notice Emily nod to Danny, her lip wobbles as she turns to you.

“James.” she half-smiles half whimpers as her hand grabs yours.

You give her hand a tight squeeze and whisper a silent prayer that they will indeed find him alive and well.

As the day goes on most of the camp seems in a mixture of excitement and fear about the upcoming raid.

The ‘Doughboys’ as Emily called them, coordinating their plan of attack, parents ensuring their children that everything will work out, farmers, bakers, and medics in a tizzy to prepare the needed supplies.

As the evening settles in you begin to worry for Emily, what if they can’t find James? what if he’s not even alive?

Poor Emily has been through so much. She doesn’t deserve any more grief.

A part of you wants to tell her to not get her hopes up but saying that would be cruel. You just nod along and try to keep her comfortable. After dinner Emily ends up falling asleep on the recliner chair she had been sitting on. As you wrap a blanket over her shoulders you realise that you're almost out of firewood and the fire its self is beginning to dwindle down.

Grabbing one of Emily’s cloaks from a hanger, you drape it over your shoulders before heading out on your quest to seek out more wood.

Wooden logs were usually kept in an area just west of the settlement, it was a little walk through the trees but not too far. You usually preferred going out when it was brighter. The light from your phone only made the place look creepier. The quietness of the area didn’t help either, if it wasn’t for the noises made by nearby animals the place would be downright eerie. At least you could still see the warm glow of the settlement in the distance through the trees.  

You knelt down on dry dirt to pick up some of the logs from the bottom of the pile to put in the wicker basket that you had brought with you. After you make your selection you stand back to your feet and dust off the dirt of your clothes. Just as you are about to reach down for your basket again you are abruptly stopped by a large hand being placed over your mouth as well as an arm wrapping around your front holding both your arms in place so that you cannot struggle from the grasp. You try to wrestle your way out of the grasp in a fit of fear but a familiar voice sends you into shock.

“Please calm down.”

Is that?

Your body is frozen.

“I only grabbed you like this in case you screamed. Sorry, it was a bit abrupt, I know.”

Your heart begins to thump harder in your chest but this time not from fear.

“When I let go, please don’t scream.” The voice pleads.

You manage to nod your head, still, in your state of shock, the hands and arm loosen from you and you try to steady yourself on your feet before turning around.

You take a deep breath as you slowly move on your feet towards the person whose grip you had just been in.

“Richard.” You exhale deeply.

His tongue wets his lip before he attempts to speak, however, you cut him off.

“What are you doing here!? If anyone sees you!” You shout in a whisper at him.

“Look, I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “I was just lucky that you happened to be out here so I didn't have to go in there.” He gestures his head towards the settlement.

“Don’t dare step foot in there.” Your eyes widen as if he’s gone mad.

“I won’t, I won’t… If you come back.”

“What? No.” You shake your head.

“No?”

“I can’t Richard. I belong here.”

“Y/N, Look at this place. It’s disgusting.” He shakes his head as he scans his eyes across the poorly put together ‘town’. “Surviving on scraps, like an animal. You have a nice home, come back.” He reaches out to hold your hands.

You lift your brows to look up at him, your mouth becoming straight as you shake your head and slowly pull your hands away.

“I can’t, I just can’t.” You pick your basket off the ground and turn to walk away from the android.

“I’ll give you anything!” He shouts out. You turn your head to him.

“I’ll do anything.” He moves towards you again. “Just say the word. Please.”

He reaches his hand towards yours once more, his other caressing your cheek.

“I’ll even help with the rebellion.” He whispers.

“The rebellion?” You look up at him, your face plagued with even more confusion.

“Whatever it is the humans are planning. I can help, I can be of use just, please come back.” He begs his forehead now resting against yours.

“Wha- I don't understand. Why?” You whisper to him, closing your eyes as you press your forehead back against his.

“Because I love you.”

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 37 -  Alrighty Aphrodite

You had entered the settlement on your own again. Going back to your shack, you had to explain the situation to Emily.

“If he can get James back.” She stopped for a minute to steady her breath. “Then I’m on board.”

After a quick hug and farewell, you had a bag packed and you were off.

“I’ll be back.” You said once more to Emily before leaving.

“I know.” She nods.

Richard had been waiting for you just outside the gateway, you had told him to wait there so he wouldn’t spook the residents.

“I can carry that” Richard insist, taking your bag from your hands, before you could say anything he had it thrown over his shoulder. You bite at your lips not really knowing what to say but walking through the forested area with him in silence.

“It’s not too far of a walk to the car,” He said. “I did try to park as close as I could.”

You just nod and continue to walk. After another while of insufferable silence, you finally speak up to him.

“So, is it true?” You turn towards the Android. “Do you really love me?”

His eyes fall to the ground for a moment as he continues on. “Yes.” He fell quiet again for a moment before continuing on. “I think I first began to realise when Collin got in that accident. You stayed with him.” He let out an artificial sigh. “I started to think about if something had happened to you and-” He shrugged.

“It took me a long time to come to grips with my feelings as you could probably tell. I never experience this type of emotion before.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You tilt your head attempting to make eye contact, his gaze still avoiding yours as he trudged forward.

“I was an idiot. A scared fool.”

“You are an idiot.” You stop for a minute causing Richard to stop as well, he moves closer to you, to see if you are alright. Taking him by surprise you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. Richard hums for a second moving away slowly, he looks into your eyes before he tries to kiss your lips.

You however hold your hand out and say “I can't do that, I have boyfriends.” Before walking on.

“Yeah, ones that left you behind.” Richard sighs moving again to walk beside you.

“They did that to protect me.”

“Connor in his twisted reasoning. He probably did it more to protect himself. He is selfish. You have no idea what your leaving has done to Collin.” Richard grumbles.

“So you’re guilt-tripping me now?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying.” Richard grunts, re-adjusting your bag against his back. “Why’d you not bring your suitcase?”

“This is just temporary.” You shrug.

“I see.”

“How’s Connor doing?” You change the subject before Richard tries to convince you to stay forever.

“He’s stressed about all of the attacks that have been happening in the city and he’s stressed because Collins current mental stability is not too fun. I think it would cheer him up to see you.”

“Yeah and he might murder you for bringing me.” You quip back.

“True. I guess we’ll just have to see.” He retorts as you notice Richard’s car parked in the distance. He did park quite close. Something Connor would also be pissed about.

“How did you find me anyway?” You ask the question that’s been on your mind since you first saw him.

“I’m afraid the truth of the matter might unsettle you a little.” He explains as his car beeps at his arrival.

“Go on.” You encourage him. “You can’t stop now.”

“I am one of the most advanced androids in existence.” He explains whilst throwing your bag in the back of his car. He then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. When you do he leans down to your ear to whisper, “I’m everywhere.” And with that, he closes the door.

You sit for a moment in contemplation as he gets into his side of the car to sit down. As he puts his seat belt on you turn to him with confusion on your face. “Did you hack my phone?”

Richard rolls his eyes as he starts up the car. “I was able to tap into the journey history of Connor's vehicle. I knew he was behind all of this.” He begins to explain as his own car sets out.

“When I got to the location of the factory I was able to scan for signs of nearby technology. Your settlement stood out like a beacon. Didn’t take too long for me to tap into some phones that were being used yes, and then I saw you.”

“Can other androids do all that?”

“Not a lot can. And definitely not to the extent that I can. As I say, I’m everywhere. Any piece of technology, I can tap into if I desire so.” Richard explains proudly.

“So, do you ever use it to spy on people?”

“Only if necessary.”

“You ever watch people naked?” You smirk a little.

Richard’s brows furrow as he blushes slightly. “No, I would not do that.”

You burst out in laughter at his defensiveness. “I’m just teasing.”

Richard adjusts his shirt collar in discomfort. “Indeed.” He replies dryly.

You smile and rest your head against the back of the seat.

“You know you can lie in the back if you want, it’s a long drive and you could do with some sleep.”

You swivel your seat around to look at the back seat, assessing it. Swapping your seat with your bag that had been put in the back and lay down on the cool leather.

“You don’t have any blankets do you?” You ask Richard as you attempt to find some level of comfort on the cold seat.

“No, sorry. I can turn the heat up if you like?”

“hmmpf.” You think for a minute. “Isn’t this car self-driving?”

“Yes,” Richard replies, not really sure at what you’re getting at.

“Why don’t you just put in the destination and then come back here and lie with me?”

His LED begins flashing red. “I think Connor would definitely try and kill me if we sleep with each other again.” Richard stammers.

“I wasn’t suggesting we have sex, oh my god!” You smack your hand over your mouth to not laugh.

Richard's face began to turn in cringe, “oh I just thought-”

“I meant so we could cuddle.” You explain, smirk still present on your face.

“Do you think Collin and Connor would be okay with that?”

“I think they’d be angrier if you let me get sick from the cold.” You tease.

“That is a fair point.” Richard raises a brow as he puts in the location for the car to self-drive. When he has it tapped in, he too swivels around in his seat to move to the back with you.

Richard is a little awkward at first as he clumsily shifted to lay down in the backseat with you, eventually pulling you into his chest. The thrum of his thirium pump makes you grin in triumph as he settles his head to rest on top of yours. Richard then changes his body temperature to a comfortable setting so that he could be your personal radiator for the next few hours.

Was this weird? Absolutely. Was this wrong? Maybe. Was this comfortable? YES.

But you allowed yourself the brief comfort of being in Richard's arms, even if it was just for this one night. Maybe you felt like you deserved it, you were entitled to some amount of comfort after all the crap you’ve been through.

A part of you was angry and Collin and Connor for not reaching out, even to send a measly little text message. Your more rational mind told you to drop it, something might have come up, you didn’t know the full story, and maybe it was too hard for them. Although that didn’t stop it from stinging your ego any less.

You managed to drift off to sleep rather quickly, that was one of the benefits from all the hard work you had been up to at the settlement, sleep found you a whole lot quicker. Richard had stayed beside you for the majority of the journey as well, cherishing the feeling of having you in his arms once again. Deciding to himself to never be without this feeling anymore. His face snuck its way between your neck and collar bone to take in your scent and to delicately place his lips against your skin just for a sweet moment of indulgence. He had to wiggle his hips away from yours so you would not awake with his growing hardness against your ass.

Feeling a little guilty for his body’s response he decided to give you some space, sliding his form out from the side, slowly as not to wake you. He couldn’t help but smiling down at how comfortable you seemed as he made his way back to the driver’s seat, the seat still swivelled around to face the back.

Richard did eventually wake you up as the car pulled into the private garage area for the RK’s apartment building.

“We're here, little dove.” He coos to you, brushing his knuckles down the length of your arm.

Your eyes squinted open, feeling blinded by the violently bright fluorescent lights of the garage you had found yourself in. Looking down you had noticed one of Richard's coats had been draped over you. You rubbed your eyes briefly before reaching down to it to hand it over to Richard.

“You put it on.” He insisted, pushing it back towards you. “At least until we get inside. It gets cold in the garage, at least that’s what my sensors tell me.”

You didn’t object you just nodded in silence, still in that groggy half sleep-like state. Throwing the oversized coat onto yourself you open the car door and hop out, Richard grabbing your bag soon follows behind, hand on your shoulder as he directs you towards the elevator.

It felt strange being back in the city, even stranger to see the apartment building again.

When you entered back into your old home, it had felt different somehow, a little bit eerie even. Suppose it didn’t help that most of the lights were off.

“Collin and Connor are both out at the moment.” Richard finally spoke up again, leading you by the shoulder into the dark living room, with a flash of his LED the lights were on.

You squinted again at the harshness of them before Richard had dimmed them to a more pleasing brightness level.

“Why don’t you go and get a nice hot bath and I can put your stuff away.” He awkwardly half-smiles over at you.

“Are you sure?” You ask skittishly.

“Of course.” He tilts his head in confusion, it’s not like having YOU here was any bother to him, he was bloody delighted. “After that, I can go get my brothers?”

“Right now?” You stuttered out the question, fidgeting with the large sleeves of Richard’s coat that you had forgotten to take off.

“Do you want some time before?” Richard asked, head tilting once more, exposing his pale neck to you.

You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. “I don’t know, maybe. It’s not that I don’t want to see them. This is all just a little overwhelming.”

“I understand.” Richard nods. “Just one thing at a time.”

You look up at him once more, catching his cool eyes in a stare, you nod. “A hot bath sounds good.”

________________________________________________________________

Notes:  I lowkey called Emily's love interest James after Bucky Barnes (cause for some reason I imaging him looking like Bucky lol)

Sorry I'd been gone for a while, just been really busy with work and general life stuff.

____________________________________________________________

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[a-womans-rhetoric]

Natalie Wynn's "J.K. Rowling" and Disruptive use of Women's Rhetorical Tropes: A Defiant Reply to Transmisogyny

ContraPoints, surrounded by an opulent, candle-lit set and adorned in witch's garb, leisurely pours champagne into her glass — she's ready to breach the internet's hottest topic of January, 2021: her childhood idol being outed as a transphobe (link here). The video itself being over an hour and a half long, I would be hard-pressed to claim that I could ever hope to cover its entirety, comprehensively, in a single post. So to save-face, I'll be dedicating this space only to breaking down her most frequently used rhetorical tropes, one by one.

Irreverence

"Joanne, I wanna talk to you, Joanne! [Fans herself with a rainbow paper fan with the word "BIOLOGICAL" written across it] What is it about Joannes? I can't catch a break from these people" (00:23-00:29, emphasis added).

Wynn's introductory lines immediately open a dialogue with J.K. Rowling — however, this invitation of discourse is defiantly "irreverent" (reminiscent of Nomy Lamm's punk-feminist style in "It’s a Big Fat Revolution” (1995)). Contrapoints, herself a transgender woman, is aware that her very existence is considered in opposition to the TERF-ideology that Rowling subscribes to. Thus, she's rather playful — even openly disrespectful — with her diction: calling the British author by her first name in a mocking-tone and flaunting her own trans identity to the camera (in a way that would likely offend the fragile sensibilities of a transphobe). Her personal tone (with ample use of the pronoun "I") servers a duplicitous purpose: a simultaneous message of "sit down and listen" and a fair degree of "I don't care if you can't accept me."

"So, now that 2020 is finally over, I think we can let the record conclusively show that it was a year whomst is bad. And on top of everything else going on, truly the last thing we needed was the author of Harry Potter coming forward to announce there's two things she can't stand: bigotry, and the transgenders. (00:31 - 00:50, emphasis added).

Finally broaching the subject at hand directly, Wynn employs kairos alongside her irreverence. Kairos, or the rhetorical use of an "opportune moment," holds incredible weight in the first month after 2020: the year in which the whole world fell into a stasis. Characterizing Rowling's transphobia as a collective "the last thing we needed," is also rather dismissive — she unites herself with her audience with the pronoun "we" and invites us all to groan at the exasperating nature of Rowling's bigotry.

Claiming the Right to Speak / Personal Experience

"This is a painful topic for me all around because, as a transgender woman, I am honestly really hurt by a lot of the things Joanne has said in the last year. But I also know what it's like to be the target of a Twitter mob" (01:36-01:47).

As she begins to touch on the topic, Natalie Wynn claims the right to speak on the issue of Rowling's transphobia — a type of bigotry that directly effects her. However, Wynn also situates herself partially with Rowling in her acknowledgement that receiving Twitter backlash is a terrifying experience (an experience, she argues, that the human brain is not prepared to handle the scale of, 01:49-02:39). In treating her subject with such dignity — and adding her own deeply personal account— ContraPoints creates a credible ethos in the beginning of her video essay. The audience is inclined to listen to someone who has been directly effected by the subject of Rowling's controversy (transphobia) and someone who is, rather compassionately, willing to empathize with those who would wish her harm. Although the generally sassy, glamorous, and irreverent tone of the video still appears soon after (see: the above image), her opening up for this somber moment garners a fair degree pathos in the viewer — we, as human beings, are inclined to sympathize with people who are open about being hurt.

Metis (Embodied Rhetoric)

[The following ContraPoints quote is addressing the above J.K. Rowling tweet, content warning for transmisogyny] "Transphobes love to play this game where they pretend that trans people just don't understand basic biology, that's our problem! As if I didn't start taking female hormones because I'm acutely aware that my body is not the same as a cis woman's body, that sex is real. "[Fictional TERF character] You will never be a woman, Nathan. Every cell in your body is male and has a Y chromosome." Really? That's crazy. How you'd you learn so much about science? You know I don't really feel the need to have a second X chromosome, I get by with only one, I make it work. I actually like the Y chromosome, I think it's a little more dainty, you know, it's little softer, a little more petite. The X chromosome has a lot of extra appendages, and don't you think? I don't need anymore of those, thanks. No trans person thinks it's possible to change chromosomal sex and to pretend otherwise is to argue in bad faith" (08:47-09:34).

If you can excuse my gargantuan quote, I hope you'll agree that the dialogue ContraPoints builds here was just too good to cut short. Within this excerpt, we see Wynn's use of irreverance and personal experience blended seamlessly together. For this YouTuber, the personal is perpetually political — especially when her own identity is constantly taken as an ideological stance. She uses her own expertise in trans issues to pick apart just how disingenuous Rowling's assertions are — even accusing her of "argue[ing] in bad faith" with her reductive claims (later, taking specific issue with how Rowling treats trans-ness as a costume). But, here, she also directly invokes another rhetorical trope: that of metis, or embodied rhetoric. Natalie Wynn specifically references her transgender body as a sort of counterpoint to the condescending "sex is real" claims by TERFs. She cites her intrinsic desire to pursue hormonal therapy as evidence that she — and other trans people like her — are all "acutely aware" that there are chromosomal differences between themselves and cis women. With this salient statement, she then follows with some humor: which, again, utilizes her trans body in her rhetoric. Her characterization of the Y chromosome as "more petite" and playful declaration of not needing "extra appendages" lightens up the often dark tone that arguing for trans rights and liberation can take. The clever points she makes are by no means weakened by her humor — if anything, the audience is more willing to listen to someone who can "joke about themselves" (so to speak) while still arguing an incredibly important message.

Naming and Defining Issues

"When I see Joanne tweeting about how trans people think sex isn't real and they're erasing same-sex attraction and they're silencing women, alarm bells are ringing because I recognize these as familiar transphobic talking points, specifically TERF talking points. "TERF" means trans exclusionary radical feminism. God are we still talking about this? I promise this is the last time. So TERFism is a hate movement that disguises transphobia as feminism. ... The fundamental problem with TERFs is not that they're mean. It's that they're politically reactionary, they want to reverse the progress of trans liberation." (14:05-16:02)

In her definition of TERF rhetoric, Natalie Wynn outlines some dog-whistles that are obvious to her, as a trans woman. She calmly explains to the viewer that, oftentimes in the present-day, rhetorics of exclusion are thoroughly disguised; TERFs, specifically, hide their rampant transphobia as a form of feminism. However, she further clarifies that the specific "danger" that TERFs pose is not from their cruelty — it's from their fervent dedication to strip away trans rights through political means. By specifying this danger, Natalie Wynn shifts the conversation away from empty discussion of offensiveness/terminology, to issues which directly affect the lives of trans people every day.

[This portion addresses the picture above] Also an act of naming and defining, ContraPoints makes a distinction between "Direct" and "Indirect Bigotry." She argues that many people envision bigotry as a festering, public, frothing-at-the-mouth hatred — a phenomenon she dubs "the Westboro Baptist Church theory of bigotry" (20:06). In bringing attention to the human tendency to think of people as exclusively practicing "direct bigotry" — envisioning them as a sort of delusional "other" — she then forces the audience to contemplate the relative omni-presence of the more covert (and possibly alluring) "indirect bigotry." This definition, crucially, requires introspection. By allowing ourselves to think of bigots not exclusively as "Westboros," we're made to adopt a much more nuanced view of subjects (most) generally prefer to keep black-and-white. Natalie Wynn uses her J.K. Rowling case study to complicate this 2D view of "The Bigot," inviting others to more carefully examine how politically reactionary views develop.

Phew, this was probably the longest post I've ever typed up on tumblr! Hopefully, I succeeded in demystifying (or at least adding clarity to) some of the specific tropes ContraPoints uses (that are common to women's rhetorics as a whole). Thanks for reading if you stuck around this long, and my ask box is always open!

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

Diamonds Are the World’s Best Friend: The Important Roles Diamonds Play in Society

by Shelby Wyzykowski

In the classic 1953 movie “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes” is a memorable musical number performed by silver screen legend Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a striking pink satin gown and dripping in dazzling jewels, she is surrounded on the stage by a bevy of handsome suitors that are dressed to the nines. In this glamorous setting, she sings the praises of diamonds…how nothing in the world can compare to how it feels to possess these glittering gemstones. But off-screen, Monroe’s taste in brilliant baubles was radically different, preferring costume jewelry to the real thing. I have to admit that I agree with Marilyn. Diamonds have never held much interest for me. That is until now. After doing a little research, I’ve discovered that, besides their use in the jewelry industry, there are other ways in which diamonds are utilized in society today. In fact, there is so much more to these captivating stones than just their scintillating sparkle.

Perhaps you’ve heard the adage “one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.” Well, it just might surprise you that this saying holds true for diamonds. In the jewelry world, a diamond with perfect clarity is the much-desired ideal. But in the scientific world, a so-called “poor” specimen that is full of inclusions (imperfections), could hold a treasure trove of geologic information. Researchers are studying them to try and uncover the secrets of the deep-Earth environment. The majority of diamonds are created fairly close to the Earth’s surface, between 93 and 150 miles down. But there are some diamonds, called super-deep diamonds, that come from far down in the Earth’s mantle and are as deep as 500 to 600 miles (the mantle, which is mostly made up of solid and very hot rock, is directly below the Earth’s surface layer, or crust, and makes up more than 80 percent of our planet’s volume). These 3.5 billion-year-old gems formed at a pressure that is 240,000 times the atmospheric pressure at sea level, and this fact makes these tiny stone time capsules extremely valuable to researchers. No doubt geologists would love to travel deep under our planet’s surface like the characters in Jules Verne’s 1864 science fiction novel Journey to the Center of the Earth. Unfortunately they can’t, but these super-deep diamonds are the next best thing to journeying there themselves!

With these diamonds, scientists are uncovering clues to the origins of water on Earth. Did water come from incoming asteroids and comets, or was water an integral component at the planet’s formation? We’re still not quite sure. But diamond research has brought us closer to figuring out how much water lies deep underground. Scientists think that there may in fact be as much water present in our planet’s deep subsurface as there is found in our oceans. They have developed this idea after discovering a special water encased in the inclusions of deep diamonds. Called ICE-VII, this water ice can only be formed under tremendous deep-Earth pressure. In addition to water, geologists have found an elusive mineral in diamond inclusions. Scientists had theorized it to be an extremely common mineral that makes up to 38 percent of the Earth’s volume, but it’s been impossible to create in a lab. Now that it’s been found in nature, researchers have the proof of its existence and have named it Silicate-Perovskite (or Bridgmanite). In addition to Bridgmanite, they have discovered other trace minerals and elements that are commonly present in the Earth’s crust. This means that the materials were subducted (drawn back down into the Earth) billions of years ago by plate tectonics. Deep in the mantle, the materials were encased in a forming deep-diamond and then eventually sent back up to the surface by way of volcanic eruptions. Even more exciting than all of these discoveries is the thought of what geologists still have yet to uncover. They still hope to find carbon from primordial organic matter in these special diamonds. That matter could be a clue to the origins of life on Earth!

"Earth’s most abundant mineral finally has a name" byArgonne National Laboratory is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

In addition to their contributions to the scientific field, diamonds also have practical uses in society. In the mid-1950’s, synthetic diamonds were invented. Created in a lab, they are chemically and physically exactly the same as natural diamonds. However, these man-made gems do not possess the allure and mystery of natural diamonds, so they are not very desirable in the jewelry market. But since diamonds are the hardest known natural substance, they are ideal for industrial use. For example, they can be pulverized into a fine abrasive that can be made into a “diamond paste” and used for polishing other jewelry-grade gemstones. Small particles of diamond can also be embedded in tools like saw blades, drill bits, and grinding wheels. These diamond-coated tools are very wear-resistant and can be used for mining, deep-sea drilling, and road construction. And there are some ingenious uses for diamonds that you may find to be very surprising. Diamond windows can be made from very thin (thinner than a human hair) diamond membranes. These windows cover X-ray machines, laser openings, and vacuum chambers. A diamond can also make your music sound better. A speaker dome made out of diamonds can vibrate very rapidly because this gem is such a stiff material. So it is ideal for enhancing the performance of high-quality speakers. Diamonds can even help you keep track of time. Small mechanical devices, such as watches, have tiny bearings inside of them that make everything move (in a watch, it’s called its “movement”). A thin coating of diamond makes these parts wear-resistant and ensures accurate time-telling and lasting durability. From helping to build highways to making your timepiece tick, who knew that diamonds could be so useful in so many ways!

CM18561 is located in the Native Elements case in Hillman Hall of Minerals and Gems. Source: https://carnegiemnh.org/emu_widgets/mineralogy.html#details=ecatalogue.2019718

Yet another important role that diamonds have played in our world is how they have influenced history. The brilliantly blue, supposedly cursed Hope Diamond, for example, has not brought much luck to its owners since it was discovered over 350 years ago. It was in the possession of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI until their untimely deaths during the French Revolution. Subsequent owners also met with unfortunate outcomes until it was donated to the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History where it is now safely on display. Another famous diamond, the 750 year-old Koh-i-Noor, has been owned by many royal rulers. It once decorated the Peacock Throne that was used by the Mughal Emperors of India, including Shah Juhan, the builder of the Taj Mahal. Now in England, the stone is part of the Imperial Crown. Due to an alleged curse, it can only ever be worn by the royal family’s female members. Finally, there is the Regent Diamond, which was unearthed in the early 1700’s. After being owned by several rulers, it disappeared during the French Revolution. Years later, it reappeared in the sword of Napoleon. But he was unable to hold onto it for long. After being defeated by the British in the Battle of Waterloo, the once-great ruler was exiled to the tiny island of Elba in disgrace. Since 1987, the Regent’s home has been at the French Royal Treasury in the Louvre in Paris. But you don’t need to travel to France or Great Britain or Washington D.C. to see the Regent Diamond, the Koh-i-Noor, and the Hope Diamond. Replicas of these three stones plus many more world-famous diamond replicas are on display at the Hillman Hall of Minerals and Gems. While you’re there, you can also admire some expertly crafted pieces of authentic diamond jewelry that would make any gem lover’s heart skip a beat.

Even though Hillman’s diamond collection is truly amazing, I can’t help but wonder if it would have impressed someone like Marilyn Monroe. Apart from a single piece of jewelry, the diamond wedding band that was given to her by Joe DiMaggio, she had no real affinity for diamonds. Apparently, the legendary actress didn’t believe that they’re a girl’s best friend. But if she had been given the opportunity to find out about all of the other meaningful ways in which diamonds benefit our world, perhaps this screen siren might have developed a new appreciation for these precious gems. I know that I have. I’d like to think that Marilyn would have too.

Shelby Wyzykowski is a Gallery Experience Presenter in CMNH’s Life Long Learning Department. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[nellygwyn]

When I first began studying Renaissance history, almost two decades ago, I did so in part because I wanted a change from the world of present-day politics. I always found parallels, of course: I would laugh over sixteenth-century letters that unwittingly foreshadowed the voices of politicians I knew, but I was firm in my mind that the past was a foreign country. When I made jokes comparing those supranational centres of Europe - fifteenth-century Rome and twenty-first century Brussels - they got a laugh but I was sure I was being flippant. As I went on, however, the past seemed to become less foreign. I would read 'tech revolution' stories and think about the history of printing; read about the election of Pope Francis and think about the global sixteenth-century Catholic Church; read about the refugee crisis in the Mediterranean and think about the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims from Spain. This is not to say that nothing has changed: as we will see, there are many differences between that society and our own. But precisely because the legacy of this Renaissance (or Age of Reform, or Age of Exploration, if we prefer) has become so important in Western culture, in defining who 'we' are (and who 'we' are not), it is worth getting to know it better.

This is all the more important because the popular story of the Renaissance - like many versions of modern Western history - tends to focus on the genius and the glory at the expense of the atrocities. Machiavelli's ideas about power, for example, become a set of timeless aphorisms rather than emerging, as in fact they did, from a specific setting. The fact that all these people coexisted with the early European voyages to the Americas, to which some of them had personal connections, and that Italians provided personnel, finance and write-ups of the subsequent colonisation, is not unknown. The bloody side of the Renaissance has always been part of the period's fascination. It is more often told, however, in the fashion of TV's 'The Borgias' as the glamorous, sexy violence of the rich-and-famous murdering one another in pursuit of power (the viewer consoling herself that most of them deserve their fate), and far less the violence of war, exile, and colonisation, nor yet domestic abuse. This is the narrative that makes the Medici a family of mafia godfathers, and it is about as connected to the reality of Florence in the sixteenth-century as gangster movies are to actual life in a town run by organised crime today. I have no objection to people enjoying a bloody tale of vendetta: I’ve told the gory story of the Baglioni wedding in Perugia in 1500 to tour groups myself. Yet too much of this masks the brutal realities beyond Renaissance works of art. Take the 'Mona Lisa': Lisa Gherardini, the woman of the mysterious smile, was married to a slave-trader. One possible model for the 'Venus of Urbino' - Angela Zaffetta - was gang-raped. The Florentine Republic that commissioned and was symbolised by Michelangelo's 'David' came to a brutal end with a sack of 'unheard-of cruelty' in which thousands of men were massacred in just a few hours. 

As I was finishing this book in March 2019, forty-nine people were killed in a gun attack on two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand. The perpetrator, a right-wing extremist, posted on social media numerous precedents for his actions, including notable Christian victories against Muslim forces. One was the 1571 Battle of Lepranto, the subject of my final chapter. Sixteenth-century history has rarely been so explicitly appropriated by the far-right as have, say, the Crusades or the myth of the all-white medieval West. More commonly, Renaissance history has played a more subtle, if no less pernicious role, the mythologies of its great men reinforcing ideas about European and Christian and white superiority without ever being so vulgar as to say outright. That is not to say it is wrong to appreciate or enjoy the artistic innovation of sixteenth-century Europe: there is plenty to wonder at. And by exploring how people of this world thought about their own media revolution, or considered questions of gender and sexuality, or responded to changing weapons technology, we can better understand our own world too, and the ways in which then as now brilliant cultural innovation can exist alongside - indeed, is often intertwined with - all manner of atrocity.

- The introduction of Catherine Fletcher’s book The Beauty and the Terror: An Alternative History of the Italian Renaissance

[deputychairman]

rules: make a moodboard about yourself, including the following types of images:

Standout physical feature: these prescription sunglasses are an integral part of my face now. Sometimes ppl remark, surprised, that I am ‘glamorous’ in photos but what they actually mean is ‘you are always wearing big sunglasses’

Favorite album: Pedestrian Verse by the best named band ever, Frightened Rabbit

Favorite type of plant: the Chinese money plant which flourished in London but tragically will not grow here. Or not for me, anyway.

Something you ate or drank today: I started this at the weekend and then it was Málaga’s most typical food the espeto de sardinas! Today it was all much sadder & less photogenic

Your ideal weather/season: if I still lived in a dark wet English November maybe my answer would be different, but this photo is taken from the shelter of a deli with precisely 2 tables while we waited out the downpour, a weekend I stayed with my brother not long after his son was born. We drank coffee, the baby drank milk, I felt Something watching it rain all right.

An inanimate object in your favorite colour: the green pane of glass from this staircase in a Madrid apartment building

A subject of study: Thomas Cromwell, because the Tudor Revolution in Government has been sexy since A level history, babey! This time around I’m reading it as a treatise on dealing with the destructive whims of a capricious unaccountable CEO (who can murder you), maybe Brexit? Or is England’s splendid isolation break with Rome just a national myth that doesn’t mean what we think it means? Hilary Mantel invites you to think about these things

Your celebrity crush hi Oscar Isaac in Granada, that whole era was just very intense for me

A quote or text of your choosing: this by Carol Ann Duffy, bc every British person with a radio 4 childhood will get shivers down their spine at the last stanza and then it works backwards up the poem until your hair’s standing on end.

@youandthemountains tagged me to do this approximately 67 years ago and as is always the way, I’ve thought about it WAY more than a fun internet meme should be thought about. @aimmyarrowshigh @bomberqueen17 @gethporno @cicaklah @clevermanka @missionlameturtle @bebeocho @some-stars @sixappleseeds and anyone who scrolls past this perhaps you would like to perform some amateur DIY introspection too?

[carewyncromwell]

POTC AU go time! Pictured above are fresh-faced pirate Charlie Weasley, the mystical witch of Tortuga Chiara Dalma, and so-called “Pirate Dragon” Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts! Looks like these three are a bit over their heads...let’s see if they can get out of it!

For those of you who appreciate my mini-history lectures surrounding real Caribbean pirates of the 17th and 18th century (please let me know if you do, I will happily geek TF out if it’s something you all like XD) -- Tortuga is an island in modern-day Haiti. It was originally a Spanish colony, settled in the 15th century not long after Mr. Despicable himself Christopher Columbus “discovered” the New World. Despite this, and despite the, er...tempestuous relationship between Spain and its neighboring countries, Tortuga ended up also hosting both English and French settlements, largely made up of buccaneers, in the 17th century. Buccaneers were an ancestor of the more classic “pirates” we think of today -- the biggest differences were that they were privateers, meaning they worked on behalf of a country and only attacked ships from other countries (i.e. a British privateer like Sir Francis Drake would only attack Spanish or French ships), and that buccaneers specifically congregated in that area of the Caribbean (namely, Tortuga and the island of Hispaniola) alone. Historically, however, Tortuga stopped being a great place for buccaneers to gather before the end of the 17th century -- specifically when treaties were passed officially banning those old privateers from attacking foreign vessels during times of peace, circa 1680. This also effectively killed off the buccaneer as a profession, until the War of Spanish Succession turned a lot more privateers who had fought during the War into the more classic 18th century pirates we think of today. During the most famous period of the Golden Age of Piracy -- namely, the third and final wave after the War of Spanish Succession ended in 1714, which hosted all of the best known pirates like Blackbeard and which both the Pirates films and this AU is set in -- it would’ve been far more common to find actual historical pirates in places like St. Mary’s Island off the coast of Madagascar or (I’m not kidding) Port Royal, Jamaica, which was quite frankly NOT the beautiful, upstanding city we see in the films. In truth, it actually prospered under piracy, until Port Royal’s leadership finally decided to crack down hard on pirates circa 1720. In this project, though, for the sake of iconography, I will treat Tortuga very much the way Port Royal would’ve really been historically -- a pirate island which, in this time period, was suddenly barraged by the pirates’ enemies and was immediately no longer a safe place for pirates to hide in. (Of course, historical pirates were much less likable or sympathetic than the pirate characters in this AU are, regardless of how objectively hard their existence was and how frankly horrid the world was in general for anyone who wasn’t upper-class, white, and male back then.)

The so-called “seven seas” have gone through a lot of “shuffling around” over the centuries, as our understanding of the world has grown. The phrase was first used by the Ancient Greeks, but back then of course, they didn’t know about the existence of bodies of water like the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean. In the Pirates films, there are nine Pirate lords for the Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic Oceans, as well as the South China, Caspian, Adriatic, Black, Mediterranean, and Caribbean Seas. I’ve slimmed down the number to just seven for the sake of referencing the so-called “seven seas,” and also because with the Pirate King, that would then give us eight pieces of eight, which seems like a much more logical number than nine pieces of eight. (Plus, to me, the Caspian and Black Seas are kind of weird choices to have Lords for as the Caspian is land-locked and the Black Sea can only be sailed into through a narrow channel in the Mediterranean...and from what I can tell, there wasn’t much 17th-18th century piracy specifically centered around those two seas either.)

Previous part of the AU is here -- whole tag is here -- and of course Jules Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier and Finn McGarry / Davy Jones belongs to @theguythatdraws. <3

x~x~x~x

In the nearly three weeks since Jules, Bill, and Charlie said goodbye to Carewyn, the three had practically been thrown head-first into what piracy truly meant. Sailing aboard the Artemis hadn’t been as glamorous as the stories Jules grew up with, but trying to steer the Revolution with only three people aboard without enough food or drink to go around, all the while knowing that just about no ships they might come across and very few islands they might land on would be friendly to them, was something that didn’t sink in until one was left sitting up all night thinking it over. Everything the three owned now -- everything they were -- was either on their person or on this ship...and if anything happened to the ship, they wouldn’t just lose the belongings they had on board, but also the only way they could transport themselves out of danger and the only “home” they still had. No one would likely even know anything had happened to them until days, weeks, or even months afterwards. It was like nothing tethered them to the Earth at all -- like they had no gravity and could just fly up into the air at any time, disappearing forever without a trace.

There was a freedom to it, of course, knowing that you didn’t have to be defined by how you were born or what arbitrary value society placed on you...and yet, the freedom came at a cost.

The three Weasleys arrived on the island of Tortuga within four days. Truthfully it wasn’t really a place a lot of people would enjoy visiting -- it was loud, filthy, seedy, and treacherous, and yet, it was a safe place for them to fill their bellies and get their ship repaired and outfitted with new crew members.

There were a few pirates who initially balked at the idea of joining the crew of a ship captained by a woman, but before long, Jules made a name for herself in Tortuga after she was able to out-maneuver two drunken men twice her size in a fight, the first by ducking under his arm and then smashing a bottle of rum over his head to knock him out and the second by stealing his own pistol out of his belt and pointing it right between his eyes until he backed off. 

Charlie couldn’t help but grin as the pirate rather cowardly slunk off like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“Bloody hell, Jules!” he laughed. “Reckon you scared him so bad he’ll be running off crying to Mummy...”

Jules crossed her arms, the man’s pistol still in her hand. “Well, he had it coming. Not wanting to be on our crew I can accept, but I am not a thing he can pay for.”

“You can’t be bought, period,” agreed Bill lowly, shooting a rather dirty look at the man’s back as he secured an arm around his wife’s waist. “Least of all by a disgusting cur like him.”

Charlie gave a low whistle.

“Blimey, Bill, a man of the Church, swearing like that?” he teased. “Whatever happened to turning the other cheek?”

“Ecclesiastes 3:8 -- ‘there is a time to love and a time to hate,’” said Bill coolly. “This is not a time to love.”

Jules smiled wryly up at Bill.

“I might have to disagree,” she said amusedly, as she tilted his head down enough to ensnare his lips with her own.

Not long after they arrived, Orion and the crew of Artemis met the Weasleys in Tortuga, as planned. It was good to see some familiar and friendly faces, in a sea of insincere smiles and shady looks. Orion immediately introduced the crew of the Revolution to a few of his “friends” on the island -- Andre Egwu, a rather fashionable pirate who had once been both a tailor and a French privateer; Erika Rath, the rough-and-tough owner of the Faithful Bride tavern, who had been a pirate herself before settling in Tortuga to offer a safe place to those who were too ill, young, old, or otherwise unable to sail anymore; Ethan Parkin, Skye’s father and a retired pirate himself, who, despite being a rather egotistical sort that disdained Orion quite a bit, still was always willing to do the crew of the Artemis and their associates a favor, for the sake of his daughter; and a pirate solely called “Face Paint” who was known on the island for being a master of disguise that could not only look like anyone they wanted, but also make other people look like just about anyone else too.

Andre and Face Paint were able to help out all three Weasleys with their wardrobes, so that they “fit” a bit more with the pirates of the island. Bill picked out a new belt that could better fit a scabbard for his sword, and Jules finally got a hat worthy of a captain -- a forest green tricorn hat trimmed with silver embroidery. Charlie was even able to snatch up a pair of boots made of a black scaly material that reminded him of the pictures of dragons he’d see in books as a kid. Charlie had expected Andre to encourage him to shave too, since both he and Bill were already getting a bit stubbly since they hadn’t shaved since they left Port Royal, but Andre actually discouraged this.

“If people know you better without a beard, then you should grow one,” he advised. “The more different you can look from how you did before, the better the chances you’ll have of not immediately being recognized, if you collide with the wrong person. In general, my advice is to change your look up every four to six months, just to throw off the authorities.”

Bill, Jules, and Charlie also accompanied Orion on his visit to the far corner of Tortuga, over a small lake to an eerie-looking worn-down shack on stilts in the middle of the water, which was the home to the resident “witch” of Tortuga.

“Have you ever met a witch before?” Jules asked Bill and Charlie.

Both Weasley brothers shook their heads, looking a little disconcerted.

“She’s truly not as terrifying as everyone makes her out to be,” said McNully reassuringly. “I’d say there’s only a 63% chance she’ll curse you if you make a wrong move.”

Charlie shot him a flabbergasted look. “Oh, that’s encouraging.”

Skye gave a light “hmph!”

“My best piece of advice? Try not to make eye contact and let Orion do the talking,” she said under her breath. “The witch can do favors for you, if you somehow get on her good side and give her proper payment...but she doesn’t trust easily.”

“And likes anyone even more rarely,” added McNully, though he sounded more thoughtful than Skye. “Orion’s one of the few people I’d say she does favor a bit...though I reckon that’s because they go back a ways, and Orion’s not really like most pirates...”

“It’s pirates especially she doesn’t like,” said Skye. 

Charlie frowned. “If she doesn’t like pirates, then why is she here, on an island owned by pirates?”

“I reckon witches probably don’t have a lot of safe places they can live as it is, Charlie,” Bill pointed out somberly. “Even the Bible says you should not suffer a witch to live. She probably lives here because she doesn’t have much choice.”

When they reached the dock under the shack, they tied up their boat, McNully staying behind to watch it while Orion, Skye, Jules, Bill, and Charlie climbed the ladder up into the shack itself. It was a bizarre place with various bottles, model planets, and other such trinkets dangling from the ceiling, and toward the back of the single large room was a table covered in a dirty grayish white tablecloth covered in spots and stains.

The witch called Chia Dalma was almost ethereal in appearance, from her long, flowing white hair to her sea-blue eyes to her bloodless, porcelain skin. She wore a rather worn, clearly second-hand dark red dress and a full-moon-shaped locket around her neck. She also considered all of Orion’s party with considerable distrust in her eyes -- Charlie felt like he was being X-rayed. Orion, however, acted as though he didn’t even notice the scrutiny the others were getting and spoke to Chia very pleasantly after giving her some incense and a jar of candied pineapple.

“How are the stars sounding, to you?” he asked. “From what I’ve seen, Venus is particularly bright, right now -- I would think you’ve heard a lot about love, in your conversations with the night sky.”

Chia finally tore her critical eye off of Charlie to turn to Orion, her posture still noticeably guarded.

“Yes,” she said, “though I believe there’s a reason you noticed Venus’s brightness in particular, as opposed to the rest of the planets’ movements.”

Her voice was very soft and understated, enough to make you freeze where you stood and hold your breath in a subconscious attempt to hear her better. Despite this, her discerning look on Orion was considerably less suspicious: if anything, it looked almost curious.

A flicker of a smile teased at the corners of Orion’s mouth. 

“...I suppose I may have.”

Bill and Charlie both shot Orion looks out the side of their eye. They had a feeling they knew exactly why that was.

Bill and Jules had talked to Charlie about their suspicions about Orion and Carewyn, and although Jules had been very supportive of it and even Bill acknowledged that Orion did seem to feel genuine affection for Carewyn, Charlie himself still felt a bit uncomfortable about it. To him, Carewyn was his twin -- although in a lot of ways, she was more like Bill personality-wise and Bill and she were clearly the best of friends, Charlie and Carewyn had still been two peas in a pod for a lot of the War. Because they were seen as twin brothers by the Navy, they were often positioned together and ended up supporting each other whenever Bill -- the person they both loved and trusted more than anyone else -- wasn’t around. This whole experience was the first time he’d really been apart from Carewyn since he’d first joined the Navy...and with Bill now married to Jules and the whole world suddenly being against them...Charlie found himself missing his “twin” more than ever.

‘Orion’s not a bad bloke,’ Charlie thought to himself. ‘If Carey really likes him, I’d understand, but...I just don’t want things to change anymore than they already have...’

Becoming estranged from Percy had been hard enough. Knowing that Bill and he would drift apart as his older brother made a life of his own with Jules, and thinking of Carewyn making a life of her own with Orion, while he himself was left on the sidelines...it was a thought Charlie didn’t like wallowing in.

Chia regarded Orion with a more solemn look as she took a seat at her table.

“It would behoove you to take a more complete look at the planets,” she said lowly. “There’s friction growing between Saturn and Uranus.”

Orion’s eyes narrowed, though his expression remained typically serene. Charlie glanced from Orion to Chia.

“...What does that mean?” he asked.

Skye shot him a look as if to warn him to be quiet -- Chia turned her attention to Charlie, her blue eyes boring into him with such intensity that Charlie flinched back a bit despite himself.

“Saturn represents Law -- a rigid structure,” she answered lowly. “Uranus, his father, represents Disorder -- Unpredictability -- Rebellion and Reformation. It suggests that there is to be great upheaval, very soon -- a large shift, the likes of which none of you have seen in your lifetimes.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Bigger than the War?”

Chia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“That was a War fought solely for the advancement of a few,” she said, her voice noticeably cool. “However big it felt to you, Charles Weasley, it merely reinforced what was already there, and so it will ultimately be forgotten. Only the ripples of that War -- the ones we feel, in this moment -- will leave any real impact.”

Charlie wanted to ask how Chia knew his name, but Orion spoke before he could.

“Can you tell which planet is rising, of the two?”

Chia glanced up at the model planets over her head pensively. “Right now, no. They’re on a collision course in the night sky, set to eclipse each other...but I can’t say which will fall first...and what will fall here on Earth, in response.”

Chia’s eyes drifted from Orion to Charlie to Jules, narrowing a bit more critically as she considered each of them in turn.

“One thing is for sure, though -- when two such powerful planets meet, it signals the end of an age. Whatever’s born from the ashes of that end may be up to whomever is fortunate enough to survive.”

The group left Chia Dalma’s feeling considerably less comfortable than when they arrived. Despite this, and despite how weirded out he was that she’d known who he was before he’d even told her his name, Charlie had to admit to himself that she didn’t seem as scary as Skye or McNully had made her out to be. She kind of reminded him of the ocean in a way -- mysterious and intimidating, sure, but ultimately something worthy of respect. Even just the way she spoke seemed to hint to her being much older than her face would suggest.

No one in the group had any idea what Chia Dalma could’ve meant when she discussed “an great upheaval” until over a week later. That was the day that the Flying Dutchman arrived on the shores of Tortuga and, without any warning, opened fire.

It was Hell the likes of which even Bill or Charlie had never seen. Cannonballs blasted through buildings, smashing windows and shattering walls. Before long, whole buildings were coming down and crushing people as they fled. Then the Flying Dutchman’s crew came ashore, undead and rotten and crusted over with barnacles and sea-life, as if they’d been swallowed up and spat back out of the sea itself -- and they killed and captured by the hundreds, with both swords and nets.

Then the Captain of the Dutchman himself, his octopus-like face visibly furious as his lobster-like claw clutched at the front of his chest where his heart should be, turned his ire on the settlement itself.

Cutler Beckett wanted him to send the pirates a message, did he? Well, then...he’d send them a message they’d see for miles.

With a click of his claw, Jones conjured up a large, flaming cinder, which he then chucked at the Faithful Bride. In an instant, it was set ablaze...and all of the pirates trying to hide inside the tavern were soon forced to flee and be captured, or burn to death. The fire spread from roof to roof, and soon all of Tortuga was in flames.

In the midst of the chaos, the crews of the Artemis and the Revolution hurried back to their ships, preparing to retreat. As Charlie ran behind Jules and Bill, however, he stopped abruptly when he caught sight of a white-haired figure being shoved around inside the crowd. It was Chia Dalma. She looked like she was trying to push through, but the horde was quickly devolving around her, trapping her in once spot.

Making up his mind very quickly, Charlie darted back the way he came.

“CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

“SET SAIL!” Charlie bellowed back. “I’LL CATCH UP!”

“CHARLIE!” Jules shouted too.

“Wait -- !” 

Was that Orion’s voice? Charlie had never heard him sound tense like that before. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop. He pressed on, unsheathing his sword as he pushed and shoved the other pirates aside.

“Move! Bugger off!”

Finally he was able to make his way over to Chia Dalma, just in time to block a block a blow from a shark-headed sailor’s sword.

“Oi!” he said angrily. “Leave the lady alone, you toothy maggot!”

The two immediately started to fight, until Charlie managed to get the upper hand by slashing at his flipper-like leg and then shoving him back off his feet through the window of a house.

He turned to Chia Dalma.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The witch’s gaze was just as piercing and guarded as it had been before as she analyzed Charlie’s face.

“Yes,” she said softly.

Charlie offered her a smile, even as more sailors charged at them.

“Stick close to me, all right?” he told her.

“You can’t win against the crew of the Flying Dutchman,” said Chia very gravely.

“Not with that attitude!” said Charlie almost cheekily. Seeing the severe look on her face, he said a little more seriously, “Look, I get that you don’t trust me -- I don’t know you at all either -- but I’m not just going to sit back and watch someone die if I can help it. And if this is the crew of Davy Jones, you’ll die if you stay here.”

The sentiment seemed to cause Chia visible pain. Her eyes abruptly hardened.

“Do not speak with such certainty about Davy Jones,” she said very sharply. “He may be a heartless being now, but that doesn’t make him devoid of conscience, or of feeling.”

Charlie frowned deeply and was prepared to ask Chia what she meant, but before he could, he soon found himself faced with another crew member from the Dutchman with a face covered in barnacles and starfish and had to immediately go on the attack again.

Charlie fought off three other fishy sailors, beating them back as best he could as she tried to steer himself and Chia back toward the docks. But as more time passed, the flames engulfing the nearby buildings only grew. Soot and ash rained from the air, making it harder to breathe by the second.

Charlie struggled to breathe normally as he fought the sailors away from Chia Dalma, but there were just too many of them, and just like with the cursed crew of the Revenge, they didn’t go down easily. Somehow, he managed to steer Chia to the dock, where the Revolution was still floating close by, their anchor already weighed and a ladder dangling off the edge.

“COME ON, CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

Coughing hard, Charlie brought an arm around Chia Dalma, pushing her slightly forward.

“Go on, climb up -- ”

BAM.

All of a sudden, Chia whirled on Charlie, grabbing hold of him and shoving him backward and to the ground just in time to avoid a giant explosion of flames that collided with the dock. The force of the explosion made the ocean water around the island crash, shoving the Revolution back with the force.

“CHARLIE!”

“CHARLIE!”

Charlie could hear both Bill and Jules’s voices as the ship was thrown backward away from the island by a massive, torrential wave. His heart gave a spasm of terror as he stared at the red-hulled ship being tossed like a bath toy in the chaos.

“BILL! JULES!”

Within moments, Charlie and Chia Dalma were surrounded by the Flying Dutchman’s crew. Charlie immediately stood in front of Chia protectively as they were encircled. The witch, for her part, looked disconcerted by the Dutchman’s crew’s appearance, but not in the way that she looked afraid -- if anything, she almost looked deeply troubled.

“There’s reluctance, in their eyes,” she murmured.

Charlie glanced back at her. “Huh?”

Chia’s lips came together seriously. “You know the purpose of the Flying Dutchman?”

“Yeah -- it’s supposed to ferry the dead.”

As Charlie considered this, he realized that this was strange. Why would a crew that was supposed to ferry those lost at sea into the next life be attacking Tortuga?

Chia nodded solemnly. “They’re not here of their own free will. Neither they nor Davy Jones...have come here because they wish to.”

Charlie felt his jaw clench as he stared down the circle of sailors holding up nets and pointing their swords at them as they prepared to capture them.

“Maybe they haven’t, but that doesn’t make them our mates,” he muttered.

Just as it seemed that Charlie was out-numbered, there was a loud rumbling down the street. A whole cart full of barrels were rolling right down the street, right at them.

Chia abruptly grabbed hold of the back of Charlie’s shirt and in an instant, the two had levitated about four feet off the ground, just in time to avoid the throng of barrels knocking over the Dutchman’s crew like nine pins.

As Chia and Charlie slowly returned to the ground, they were joined by another pirate -- a rather striking blonde with emerald-colored eyes. She held a pistol in one hand and her sword in the other as she rolled down the street on one of the barrels, jumping off of it to land on Chia’s other side.

“You both all right?” she asked, as she lifted her leg just enough that she could catch the barrel she’d arrived on with her foot.

“...Aye,” said Charlie after a moment, still a bit in awe about having just been floating in the air like a cloud. “Thanks, uh...?”

“Samantha O’Connell,” she introduced herself quickly.

Charlie blinked. “The Pirate Dragon?”

Both Samantha and he immediately had to duck to avoid a grenade being chucked over at them. It seemed some of the Dutchman’s sailors had recovered from the “barrel attack” and were coming back.

“Look, I’m all for introductions and ‘how-do-you-do’s,’” said Samantha with a wry smile, “but right now, we’d better move!”

Urging Chia in front of her, she then ran down the street away from the dock, Charlie at her heels.

It seemed that the infamous “Pirate Dragon” and Charlie also had a mutual friend in Orion Amari. Despite persuading both crews to “keep to the Pirate Code” (namely, that whoever falls behind is left behind), Samantha nonetheless had enough honor to -- upon seeing Charlie and Chia had been separated from the others -- backtrack enough to make sure they got away too, even if it couldn’t be on the Artemis or Revolution.

“I have my own ketch here at the eastern dock, which I’ll be taking back to my ship,” she explained as they ran. “There are a few others you can choose from, to steer yourself and Ms. Dalma here to Shipwreck Cove -- you’ll be safe there...”

“Shipwreck Cove?” repeated Charlie.

Chia Dalma’s eyes flashed at the name.

“The home of the Brethren Court,” she murmured very icily.

Samantha shot Chia a frown.

“Look, I get it if you don’t like going to another pirate haven, but it’s really the safest place, now. I doubt even Jones himself knows how to get there -- and once all the Pirate Lords assemble, we can come up with a plan to deal with this.”

Samantha immediately boarded the small blue-painted boat, preparing to cast off. Charlie was frowning more deeply than ever in confusion as he jumped aboard a neighboring red-painted ketch.

“There are Pirate Lords?” he asked.

“Of course -- the owners of the seven Pieces of Eight, representing each of the seven seas,” Samantha said logically, as if it were common knowledge. “Or at least six out of the seven -- the Piece of Eight representing the Pacific Ocean was lost after its Lord, Bartholomew Sharp, died...anyway, Orion’s one of the Lords too, so he’ll be able to show your sister-in-law the way and you can meet the rest of your crew there -- ”

Charlie could hear a lot of shouting and pillaging growing louder in the distance. Soon the Flying Dutchman’s crew would be on top of them again --

He quickly threw out a hand, offering it to Chia Dalma. “Come on -- we’d better hurry.”

Chia glanced back in the direction of the flaming city, her blue eyes narrowing. It almost seemed like she was conflicted.

“Listen, Ms. Dalma,” said Samantha sharply, “Jones is under the control of the East India Trading Company and the British Navy.”

Both Charlie and Chia Dalma straightened up abruptly, visibly shocked.

“I overheard Jones say that Beckett’s orders had been to ‘send a message to all pirates.’ That can only mean that Beckett has some leverage over Jones and has impressed him into service. We can’t hope to deal with Jones until we deal with Beckett’s leverage first, and to do that, we have to deal with Beckett.”

Chia once again looked at the flaming buildings, her eyes rippling with emotions Charlie couldn’t read. Then, at last, she closed her eyes, swallowed, and turned to Charlie, taking his hand and boarding the boat.

“See you in Shipwreck Cove!” said Samantha, shooting a bright smile over her shoulder at Charlie. “Good luck!”

Charlie watched her go, before weighing anchor and immediately setting sail with Chia Dalma himself.

The crew of the Flying Dutchman only arrived just in time to see the two ketches already floating off into the distance and out of sight. Chia herself stood at the railing of the boat long after Tortuga had disappeared over the horizon, holding the moon-shaped locket around her neck in her hand. Charlie pulled on the rigging to pull the sail toward the starboard side, glancing over at her with some sympathy.

“You knew Jones...didn’t you?”

Chia glanced back at Charlie, her eyes very unreadable. Then she returned her gaze to the horizon.

Charlie secured the rigging, knotting it tightly.

“...I understand how hard it is, to have to leave someone behind. There’s someone I’ve left behind too -- two people, in fact...who are also probably having to bow to the whims of Cutler Beckett, even if I’m sure they don’t want to...”

The memory of Percy’s pleading face and Carewyn’s stoicism in the face of her heartbreak both rippled over his mind.

“Charlie – don’t do this – think of Mum – think of us – ”

“I want you on a vessel so strong and so fast…that I can never catch up to you again.”

Charlie closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling heavily.

“...Sometimes, though...the only way you can really help them is by leaving them...however hard it is.”

There was a silence. Charlie opened his eyes and headed up to the helm, turning the wheel to help steer the boat through the waves.

While he was piloting the boat, however, he was interrupted by the soft clink. Chia Dalma had placed something on the edge of the deck within Charlie’s reach.

“This is for you, Charles Weasley,” she said.

Charlie blinked and picked it up. It was an old pewter button encrusted with gold and decorated with the icon of an anchor and an intricate cursive “S.”

“Oh, ah...thank you,” said Charlie awkwardly. He turned the button over in his hand. “...What’s the ‘S’ stand for?”

“Sharp,” Chia responded. “Bartholomew Sharp.”

Charlie straightened up. “The Pirate Lord Samantha mentioned?”

Chia inclined her head in a nod. “That is his Piece of Eight. Sharp abandoned his duties as Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean long before dying in prison in disgrace, and since then, it has been largely forgotten, by both pirates and honest explorers alike. It’s the last untamed sea, of the seven...”

Her blue eyes bore into Charlie’s face.

“...And now...it will be your responsibility...Pirate Lord Charles Weasley.”

[thehungryplaice]

Fun Wedding Food Ideas

5 Hot Food Trends for 2022 To Consider For Your Special Day!

https://www.the-hungryplaice.uk/fun-wedding-food-ideas

Food Glorious Food!

The Food served on your Wedding Day is one of the most important (and expensive) parts of the day, there are so many different types of Wedding Food available that you no longer need to stick to the traditional sit down meal, there are lots of Unique Wedding Food ideas around whether you want a huge array of Food Types for your Wedding, a Simple Wedding menu or want Cheap Wedding Ideas On a Budget.

Here is our guide on how you can win over the crowd with 5 amazing and memorable Fun Wedding Catering ideas....

1. Street Food Vans at Weddings

There has been an massive explosion of Street Food Vans For Weddings in the UK, the Street Food Industry has seen a surge in the last few years with huge numbers of Street Food Markets appearing in City Centres and at Local Towns, there are Food Fairs and Street Food Areas found at most Public Events these days and there seems to be no let up in the scope of the food being offered. The Street Food Revolution has not been missed the Wedding market and any type of Food can be booked for your Wedding Day.

You might want to create a Street Food Village for your guests or you might want to have a Food Van for breakfast the day after to feed those hangovers. So there are two elements that you would be looking for when you find yourself a Food Van, these are the type of Food Served and the Unit that the Food will be served from.

Types of Food For Wedding Food Vans

The List on this one is literally endless, Mobile Caterers these days offer foods from around the world from American Slider Burgers and Greek Souvlaki to Thai Noodles and Caribbean Goat Curry. There is the old traditional Fish and Chip Van Hire (our favourite of course!) and we are used to seeing Burger Vans but Mobile Catering is more savvy and trendy these days so you can have a Gourmet Burger Van serving Kangaroo and Crocodile Burgers and Pizza Vans that serve Hand Kneaded Sour Dough Pizzas. There are types to suit all tastes and these cover both hot and cold food as well as Mains and Desserts.

With all the different lovely foods to choose from you'll be spoilt for choice, it is important to pick the right type of food to fit in with your day. You will want the Food to reflect your day, it might be a very chilled laid back type of day where a huge BBQ would be just perfect, you may wish to have an Italian theme with lots of Antipasti, Pastas and Breads, you might want to offer a smaller snack to your guests or have a Food Van for the main meal of the day, you might want a Crepes or Waffles Van or an Ice Cream Van as a little treat .

Just remember to choose something that you like and you are happy with and that most of your guests will like too you won't be able to please everyone but you need to remember to cater for a range of age groups who will all have a different taste palate!

Type of Food Vans for Weddings

For some couples the Look of everything they have at their Wedding needs to be perfect, everything needs to be in Beautiful, Colourful, Exciting and Exuberant, it could all be line with a theme, colour or style, to others it's not so necessary as long as the main points are covered.

Now how you view the point above will influence your decision on a Wedding Street Food Van and this will also affect your budget, you might be happy with a Simple Food Trailer but to have something special means you will have to spend more. You might have always had your eye on that Vintage Fish and Chip Van and because it fits in with your day you are willing to compromise on your budget to account for it and it means less spent on a different area of the day. There are smaller Gazebo setups and regular shaped Trailers aplenty, lots of these may be wrapped or themed, if these are offering something standard you will normally get a reasonable priced quote on these, just remember if you want authentic foods you may want to pay a little more.

If you want to make more of a statement there is lots to choose from horseboxes are everywhere at the moment in a huge range of different themes, colours and types, you may wish to have all your Food Vans to be the same type and as there are so many Horsebox Mobile Caterers it would be a good choice to choose them. As above you should expect to receive a reasonable quote for these sorts of setups it may be the type of food that would determine how much more expensive the cost will be.

The final type of Street Food Van is the Specialist Vehicle or Trailer, these are all unique catering units and will charge a premium for their services but you these will be truly memorable for your guests and give them something to talk about! There will be either be a modern unique vehicle or a converted Vintage Food Van, remember not to try and compare this type of offering to those above you should expect to pay more than a standard small sized trailer if you want something like this at your Wedding.

You might need to do a bit of research to see if your vision is actually on the market somewhere, the internet has a huge resource to show you what types of Food Vans are around, try Instagram, Facebook and Pinterest, take a look at some Bridal Blogs and Bridal Magazines. Try typing in Google for the sort of thing you are looking for or look at Quote Comparison Websites.

2. Food Stations

Food Stations are a fairly new trend for Weddings, these are where an area of a room is allocated for a table, a Cart, or something like the top of a Barrel and on this a "Station" is setup with an array of food offerings. You might want to offer a snack during part of your day or setup a series of Food Stations to showcase your desserts. This is Fun Wedding Idea that could incorporate a huge number of ideas.

You could use a Food Station for practically anything you want, you may wish to employ someone to do this or just set one up yourself.

What Wedding Food Station Ideas are there?

Sweet Carts, Cupcakes and Chocolate Foundation are sure fire favourites for a Wedding but how about planning something a little different.

You could have a Station for Wines, Pretzels, Jelly Babies, Chocolates, Chips, Gins, Marshmallows, Cheese and Biscuits, Donuts, Pizzas, Fruit, Sweets, Crepes, Ice Creams and many more.

Just consider how you want to arrange everything and that the food will be left out so you might want to have certain things covered with closed jars etc, some items may need to be kept hot so you'd need specialist equipment for that but there are plenty of options for a Cheap Wedding Food Station Idea.

3. Grazing Tables

A Grazing Table works much like a buffet but should be Colourful, Exciting and Beautiful to look at, this is an exciting developing trend in the Wedding World and Caterers are finding new and wonderful ways of styling Tables and Food to make it look more glamorous and appetising for guests.

A Grazing Table could be made up of certain foods you have requested to go with the rest of your day or have items that reflect your theme like using flowers and foliage to complement your Vintage Themed Wedding.

This type of offering could be arranged by yourself or you could employ the services of a professional to take it all off your hands. You might want to offer a Grazing Table as part of your main meal or to replace the evening Buffet, similar to a buffet your food will be left out so you need to think about that if you are having your food outside for example and it may be difficult to keep food hot before serving in this way due to the nature of the Grazing Table Setup and "look".

4. Afternoon Tea

You might have a break in your Wedding Day just after you arrive at the reception venue or your main meal might be a few hours before your Evening Reception so you could opt for a Traditional Afternoon Tea.

This is a Cheap Fun Wedding Food Idea that you could put together yourself, head off to some charity shops and have a browse on Facebook for un-matching vintage crockery to use on the day, you might have someone handy who can help turn these into tiered cake stands where you can put some cakes or sandwiches and when you have finished with the crockery just sell it back on again! You could include Cream Teas, Hot Drinks including Hot Chocolate, Tea and Coffee and Sandwiches and fancy cakes.

The alternative is to look for Mobile Caterers that offer this service, they will include everything you need and will clear it all away when its finished so you don't need to worry about any washing up!

5. Alternative Cake Ideas

So this takes us to the last Fun Wedding Food Idea.....the Wedding Cake! The Traditional Wedding Cake is normally Tiered, it's Fruit or Plain Sponge, Iced on the Outside with decorative items and a Cake Topper on Top, wedding Cakes of today however are a lot more sexy!

Some people choose to have bespoke cakes made to reflect a theme, some want more or less tiers of colours other than the traditional white. Cupcakes have long been a Wedding Cake Trend with large or small Cupcakes filling a mountain that might also be tiered, this gives the opportunity to provide a selection of looks and tastes to suit the most discerning of guests.

Cakes can be displayed on a number of surfaces (as long as its food safe) like Cake Tables, Wood Slices, Plates, Platters and Boards.

But what about other ideas a little different to the norm?

Well Rainbow Cakes are a big thing nowadays with layered colourful sponges inside or multi coloured outside and of course there has been the move from Cakes themselves to things like Macaroons, Cheese, Jelly, Chocolates Pork Pies and Sausage Rolls!

So 5 Fun Wedding Food Ideas for you to consider at your Wedding, go on dare to be different.....

https://www.the-hungryplaice.uk/fun-wedding-food-ideas

[skyblue-ringpops]

Newsies in other time periods

If the Newsies characters weren’t in 1899, here’s the time periods I think they would best fit!

Jack: The Renaissance. To be more specific, probably the mid 1400s to early 1500s since that was around the time the more notable artists lived. I feel like he’d also be heavily involved in the art world, since he is an artist. He’d also have Michelangelo energy. I also feel like he’d be involved in philosophy, mainly focusing on independence and paving your own path rather than following the examples of others.

Davey: Ancient Greece. He has the scholarly vibes. He would be a philosopher as well as a writer and teacher. He would probably be heavily involved in all aspects of society, such as politics, education, philosophy, etc.. He seems like the guy that everyone would look up to and would go down in history for his knowledge and thoughts. He has Athena vibes

Katherine: I honestly don’t want to move her to a different period. She fits the times so well. However, if I have to choose, I’d pick the 1920s. She would be heavily involved in suffrage, of course. And she would still be a reporter. I don’t think she would be a flapper herself, but she would greatly admire their lifestyle and always write articles praising them.

Crutchie: America’s colonial times. I don’t know why, he just gives me colonist vibes. I feel like he’d be that kid that’s always pranking people, but nobody ever believed it was him because he’d seem innocent. Like, he’d happily agree to go to church with his parents, but would release a squirrel mid service. You know those ghost stories about colonial boys throwing stuff and making random noises just to bother people? That’s Crutchie.

Race: The 1930s. Race would probably be just like Bonnie and Clyde. He’d be a robber for sure. And he’d be good at it. However, he is dumb, and everyone knows it. So nobody thinks he’s guilty. He’s not smart enough to get away with robbery! But he is, and he’s amazing at it.

Spot: The 1960s. He just screams The Outsiders. He’s a greaser for sure. Big Dally vibes. He’s the cool kid that everyone looks up to, and they all want to be part of his “gang”. And yes, he does have a rival gang. His gang is basically the same energy as the Brooklyn newsies. 

Albert: American Revolution. He’s a kid, so he isn’t entirely sure about what’s going on. However, he is definitely anti-British, partially just to say he is. He’d get involved in everything he could, just to say he was there. He even watches the battles, which his father (who probably fights in the war) doesn’t appreciate. 

Sarah: The 1940s. She has movie star vibes for some reason. I feel like she’d be a famous actress, but humble. She wouldn’t use her money to buy fancy things...until she used it to help her family. She would live a more glamorous lifestyle later on, but family comes first.

JoJo: 1500s England. He gives Henry VIII vibes for some reason, so he was definitely alive during his rule. And he did idolize him. He loved how he just made his own rules and wanted to be like that. Well...maybe without the killing his wives part. Maybe. I do feel like JoJo would be the son of a noble and constantly pretend he’s a prince.

Les: I feel like he, like Crutchie, would be in Colonial America. He’d be like Crutchie’s partner in crime. Yes, they’d be friends. It’d be chaotic. They would always prank people together. When Crutchie grows up and stops with his mischief, everyone’s relieved...until they remember Les exists. And Les is much more chaotic, since he was trained.

Romeo: Shakespearean era. He would go see Romeo and Juliet’s debut, and he’d love it. He’d be Shakespeare’s biggest fan and see all his plays. He’d reenact them and dream of being in one. But he can’t act. He recites Shakespeare’s sonnets to every girl he meets. He dreams of being a playwright himself, but he isn’t very good at them. He also makes up his own words, names, and phrases, but they never catch on.

Smalls: Russian Revolution. Remember, she is very chaotic. So she just runs around spreading chaos. And she is very much an anarchist. She is invested in the Romanov story and wants to find and befriend Anastasia. She also idolizes Rasputin. I mean...can you blame her?

Tommy Boy: Modern. He just has modern vibes. I feel like he’d be an athlete. He has big tough guy vibes. He’d probably play football, maybe hockey. And he would be amazing at it. I don’t really know about sports though, so I won’t get into detail about it. He would also retire to be the coach of the top college team.

Mush: 1920s. He would be very involved in the culture of the time. He’d be dancing all the time and if you need him, he’s probably at the speakeasy. He’d probably become a performer as well. He just loves a good time.

Oscar Delancey: 2005. He’d be an emo. It’s true, don’t deny it. He loves MCR. He wears black eyeliner. And he is feral. He probably likes metal too. He always says he’s not like other boys and it’s not a phase. He wants to be Pete Wentz.

Morris Delancey: Salem, Massachusetts, 1692. Yep, the Salem Witch Trials. And he would be tried. He was probably accused for no reason, thought it was a joke, said something stupid during his trial, and executed. I have no idea why he gives me witch vibes, but he does.

Henry: Again, modern. He’d own a small deli. It’s a family business. He’d been working there for as long as he could remember, and knows he’ll inherit it someday. Eventually, it begins to grow in popularity. One day, it becomes a famous deli.

Specs: Early America. He feels like the type to look up to Ben Franklin. He loves his inventions and wants to be a famous inventor himself one day. He starts creating random things out of whatever he can find in his home. They’re not very good at first, but progressively get better and better. One day, he achieves his dream of becoming an inventor.

Buttons: 17th or 18th century. He’d be the son of the town’s tailor and would often help out. He ended up being an amazing tailor as well, and everyone loved his work. He liked to add his own twist to things, so many people could recognize his work at a glance.

Finch: World War II. I feel like he would fight, and he’d do it by choice. An older relative, maybe a brother or his father, would be drafted, and that would inspire him to join as well. He’s a good fighter, and he’s very passionate about the causes, but doesn’t enjoy the war and can’t wait for it to end.

Elmer: 1980s. He just gives me 80s vibes. He’d always go on little adventures with his friends and siblings and act out his favorite movies. He especially likes the ones about kids like him that lived much cooler lives. Think E.T. and Goonies. He doesn’t want to be an actor in those movies, he wants to be a character.

[back-and-totheleft]

“I’m not sure I’ve modified my thinking”

“It’s a strange place, England,” Oliver Stone informs me at the start of our Zoom call. “You’ve managed to make it worse than it was,” he says, speaking from his home in Los Angeles. “You’ve turned it into World War Two with your attitudes over there. The English love punishment, it’s part of their make-up.”

You sure know how to break the ice, Mr Stone. It’s a slightly galling accusation, given that he has hitched his wagon to Russia, hardly a paragon of enlightenment. The New York-born writer-director has never shied from ruffling feathers, though. Stone has taken on the American establishment to thrilling effect in his movies, from Platoon to Born on the Fourth of July, JFK to W, Salvador to Snowden, and still emerged with three Oscars. And he has admiringly interviewed a string of figures whose relations with Uncle Sam have rarely been cosy, including Fidel Castro, Hugo Chávez and Vladimir Putin. Those had more mixed receptions, as has his support for Julian Assange.

Yet at 74 he is still a thorn in the side of the military-industrial complex and is set to remain one for some time, having just had his second shot of Covid vaccine. This being Stone, he got his jab in Russia. A recent trial showed the Sputnik V vaccine he was given to have 92 per cent efficacy and he’s palpably delighted. Angry too, of course. “It’s strange how the US ignores that. It’s a strange bias they have against all things Russian,” he says. “I do believe it’s your best vaccine on the market, actually,” he adds, sounding weirdly Trump-like.

If his bullishness is still intact, Stone reveals a more vulnerable side in his recent memoir, Chasing the Light. The book, which he discusses in an online Q&A tonight, goes a long way to explaining his distrust of government, society and, well, pretty much everything. There are visceral accounts of him fighting in Vietnam, and fighting to get Salvador and Platoon made. “The war was lodged away in a compartment, and I made films about it,” he says. “Sometimes I have a dream that I’ve been drafted and sent back there.”

The crucial event in the book, though, is his parents’ divorce when he was 15. Stone realises now that his conservative Jewish-American father and glamorous French mother were ill-suited. Both had affairs. What really stung was the way he was told about their split: over the phone by a family friend while he was at boarding school. “It was very cold, very English,” he says. “I say English because everything about boarding school invokes the old England.” He’s really got it in for us today.

With no siblings, he says, “I had no family after that divorce. It was over. The three of us split up.” His world view stemmed from his parents being in denial about their incompatibility, he writes in the book: “Children like me are born out of that original lie. And nobody can ever be trusted again.”

That disillusionment took a few years to show itself. “All of a sudden, I just had a collapse,” Stone says. He had been admitted to Yale University but his father’s alma mater suddenly felt like part of the problem. He felt suicidal and sidestepped those thoughts by enlisting to fight in Vietnam, putting the choice of him dying into other hands.

The Stone in the book was described by one reviewer as his most sympathetic character. “It’s true probably because it’s a novel,” he says. Well, technically it’s an autobiography, but it’s a telling mistake. Fact and fiction can blur in his work, from the demonisation of Turks in Midnight Express (he wrote the screenplay) to the conspiracy theories in JFK.

Writing the book allowed him to put himself into the story, something he says he’s never been able to do in his films. He has tried. He wrote a screenplay, White Lies, in which a child of divorce repeats his parents’ mistakes, as Stone has. “I had two divorces in my life [from the Lebanese-born Najwa Sarkis and Elizabeth Burkit Cox, who worked as a “spiritual advisor” on his films] and I’m on my third marriage, which I’m very happy in.” He and Sun-jung Jung, who is from South Korea, have been together for more than 25 years. They have a grown-up daughter, Tara, and he has two sons, Sean and Michael, from his marriage to Cox.

White Lies is on ice for now. “It’s hard to get those kinds of things done,” Stone says wearily. Will he make another feature? It’s been documentaries recently, the last two on the Ukraine. “I don’t know. It’s a question of energy. In the old days, there would be a studio you’d have a relationship with, and they’d have to trust you to a certain degree. And that doesn’t exist any more.”

He thinks back to the big beasts of his early years. Alan Parker, who directed Midnight Express; John Daly, who produced Salvador and Platoon; Robert Bolt, who taught him about screenwriting. “Those three Englishmen had a lot to do with my successes,” he says. I think he feels bad about all the limey bashing. “John was a tough cockney, but I liked him a lot.” He liked him more than Parker, whom he describes as “cold” with a “serious chip on his shoulder.” He smiles. “Sure. Alan did a good job with Midnight Express, though.”

You wonder if Netflix could come to Stone’s rescue. They have given generous backing to big-name directors, from David Fincher to Martin Scorsese, Stone’s old tutor at NYU film school. Surely they would welcome him? “Well, that’s why you’re not in charge! Netflix is very engineering driven. Subject matter such as [White Lies] might register low on a demographic.”

Isn’t he also working on a JFK documentary, Destiny Betrayed? That could do better with the Netflix algorithms. “I’m having problems with that too. Americans were so concerned with Trump, I don’t know that they wanted to hear about some of the facts behind the Kennedy killing. They don’t recognise that there’s a connection between 1963 and now, that pretty much all the screws came loose when they did that in ’63.” He smiles. “I know you think I’m nuts.”

Well no, but you do wonder at his unwavering conviction that there was a conspiracy to murder Kennedy, probably involving the CIA. JFK is a big reason why a majority of Americans believe in a conspiracy and, according to Stone, led to the establishment of the Assassination Records Review Board, which he claims is “the only piece of legislation in this country that ever came out of a film.”

Yet several serious studies, including a 1,600-page book, Reclaiming History, by the former prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi, conclude that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. That book accused Stone of committing a “cultural crime” by distorting facts in JFK. “I feel like I’m in the dock with Bugliosi. I didn’t like his book at all,” Stone says. “Believe me, you cannot walk out of [his forthcoming documentary] and say Oswald did it alone. If you do, I think you’re on mushrooms.”

Stone knows whereof he speaks regarding psychedelics. On returning from Vietnam he was “a little bit radical” in his behaviour, he says: drugs, womanising, hellraising. He recently took LSD for the first time in years. “It was wonderful,” he says. He hallucinated that he was “moving from island to island on a little boat”.

What was radical in the Seventies can be problematic now. He has been accused of inappropriate behaviour by the model Carrie Stevens and the actresses Patricia Arquette and Melissa Gilbert. “As far as I know I never forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to do,” he says. Has he modified the way he behaves around women? “Oh sure, no question.”

At the same time, he is disturbed by “the scolding going on, the shaming culture. I don’t agree with any of that. It’s like the Chinese Cultural Revolution. It scares the shit out of me. I do think the politically correct point of view will never be mine.”

He’s not a slavish follower of conspiracy theories — QAnon “sounds like nonsense”, he says, as was the theory that Donald Trump was “a Manchurian candidate for the Russians. That was a horrible thing to do and it hurt that presidency a lot. I’m not an admirer of Trump by any means, but he was picked on from day one.”

What does he make of Joe Biden? “I voted for him, not because I liked him, but as an alternative to Trump’s disasters. He’s got a far more merciful humanitarian side. But he also has a history of warmongering.” Fake news, he says, has “always happened”, in the east and west, on the left and the right. “I mean, back in the Cold War, the US was saying Russia was lying and Russia was saying the US was lying. Each one of these wars the US has been involved in was based on lies.”

It sounds as if Stone has been on the Russian Kool-Aid himself. He is making a documentary, A Bright Future, about climate change that advocates pursuing nuclear power in the short term, and has visited some Russian nuclear plants. They are “very state-of-the-art,” he says. “The US is not really pursuing the big plants, the way Russia and China are. I believe in renewables, but they’re not going to be able to handle the capacity when India and Africa and all these countries come online wanting electricity.”

Putin liked the interviews Stone did with him in 2017, he says. “I think they contributed to his election numbers.” Wasn’t he too easy on the Russian leader? “That’s what some say. But I got his ire up. I did ask him some tough questions about succession. ‘I think you should leave’ — that kind of stuff. The pressure that Russia is under from both England and the US is enormous,” he adds. “Unless you’re there I don’t know that you understand that. Because you take the English point of view, and they have been very anti-Soviet since 1920. You talk about fake news — I feel that way about MI5 and MI6.”

You can’t help but admire Stone’s conviction. If he’s modified his behaviour that’s probably a good thing, but as he says, “I’m not so sure I’ve modified my thinking. I express myself freely. I don’t want to feel muzzled.” Whatever you think of him, be grateful he hasn’t been.

-Ed Potton, “You talk about fake news. I feel that way about MI5 and MI6,” The Times of London, Feb 8 2021 [x]