#mass escape

[themeanstoanend]

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"19 Prisoners Escape Fort Henry," Kingston Whig-Standard. August 27, 1943. Page 1 & 13. ---- Capture of three German prisoners at Barriefield Camp, Ordnance Corps training centre five miles east of here, near noon today brought into custody 12 of the 19 men who tunneled their way to freedom under the wide stone walls of Fort Henry here last night.

The men - Franz Karper, 25, Kurt Kroehnert, 26, and Friedrich Schmale, 24 - were hiding in a ditch on the outskirts of camp and were found by patrolling soldiers who encountered no opposition from them.

All prisoners were N.C.O's and men, no officers having participated in the mass break.

Earlier, the recapture of two men at Seeley's Bay, 22 miles north of Kingston on the highway to Ottawa, indicated that some of those remaining at large may have made their way out of the immediate Kingston district.

(Additional stories on the escape of the 19 German prisoners-of-war from Fort Henry last night will be found on Page 2 of of The Whig-Standard.)

Their capture in a ditch by soldiers taken to the spot by a truck driver had brought the number recaptured to nine.

A thousand soldiers and city and provincial police were comb- ing Eastern Ontario for the men still at large.

Authorities at the internment camp, while refusing to give any official statement, pending a court of inquiry, were free to acknowledge that the break-out was a well planned affair and it mystified them completely.

Officially The Whig-Standard was told it was a "tunnel job," and no violence of any kind was used by the men in getting their freedom. It is understood the. men left the internment camp shortly before 10 o'clock last evening, but their disappearance was not noticed for some time later.

The arrest of two of the prisoners of war by Detective Vincent Killen, and Constable A. Playne of the Kingston police department, and Provincial Constable J. H. Hatch, was the first intimation that an escape had taken place at Fort Henry.

Answering a call which had been received from a lady residing in the Dead Man's Bay summer camp area, the police apprehended two of the German prisoners of war who had broken out of the internment camp a few minutes previously. It is understood the police were informed that two men who appeared to be prisoners of war were seen in the vicinity. One of the prisoners was apprehended outside one of the summer cottages, while the second was located inside one of the buildings; neither of the men put up any resistance, and returned to the fort in charge of the police officers.

With the return of these two men to Fort Henry a general alarm was sounded, and the police and military authorities of the en- tire area were dispatched in pursuit of the missing prisoners. A count which was made by the authorities at Fort Henry showed 19 of the inmates were missing. The names and the descriptions of all of the 19 were immediately communicated to the city police, two having been taken in custody, and returned to the Fort.

Shortly before one o'clock two more of the number were arrested as they were walking along Highway No. 2 between Vimy Barracks and the cut near the village of Barriefield. It is understood these two men were proceeding in a westerly direction, and were actually in sight of the internment camp when the police caught up with them. The authorities refused to state who captured these two men.

About 5:30 o'clock this morning two more of the "wanted men" were taken in charge in the Seeleys Bay area and one half hour later a third man was located near the Ordnance Training Centre, asleep in an R.C.A.M.C. crash ambulance, and all three were taken back to the place of internment. The other two men were arrested near Collins Bay.

Scattered The authorities who are engaged in the search believe the men, after getting out of the fort, scattered in different directions and hid in the bushes not far from the internment camp, and in nearly every case they will be taken. in charge before the day is over.

A Whig-Standard reporter who was early on the chase, spent the better part of the night touring the city district in search of information, but he was not fortunate enough to see any of the escaped men. The police and soldiers who manned the entire area refused to allow motorists to get close to Fort Henry, or in fact proceed along the highway.

The highways in and out of the city were heavily guarded by he soldiers who carried live ammunition, and every motorist, and this included many transport drivers, who had occasion to drive he along the highways, were ordered out of their cars, and had to show their identification cards before being allowed to proceed. All the automobiles were searched, as were the trucks.

The authorities are at a loss to know how such a large group of men could get their freedom without being noticed. While officially information is lacking, there is a persistent rumor that the men went down the large most which extends from the fort to Navy Bay, and in fact passes under a bridge where an armed guard is on duty. This report is denied by the military authorities.

If this tunnel was used, and it is possible it could be, the men would have to do some manoeuvreing to get out of the section of the fort where their sleeping quarters are located; they would have to, by some unknown manner, get through or over a stone wall and then over a wire fence, which seems very improbable unless they had been working on the whole scheme for some time, Armed guards are mounted at all times on the walls, and how this large group of men could make a get-away is mystifying to the authorities.

Pte. L. G. Coutlee, whose home is in Brockville, a member of the Canadian Provost Corps at the Royal Canadian Ordnance Corps Training Centre at Barriefield, captured two on No. 2 Highway east of Kingston.

Coutlee was patrolling the highway when he saw two men outlined in the headlights of an approaching car. The men jumped into the ditch as the car drew near and then resumed their walk. Coutlee grabbed the men and demanded their registration cards and when they failed to produce the documents, he took them to the Barriefield camp. They were sent back to Fort Henry.

Throughout the night soldiers from the Barriefield camp scoured the countryside for the missing men while provincial and city police patrolled the St. Lawrence River in requisitioned boats to prevent any attempted flight to the United States.

Heard Escape Harold Fitman, a member of the Kingston Fire Department who was paddling in the St. Lawrence River close to Fort Henry last evening believes he heard the prisoners making their escape. Mr. Pitman told The Whig-Standard left Cedar Island about 9:30 o'clock after visiting the Boy Scout camp. He said he was fairly close the shore of Fort Henry when heard men walking on the shore rocks.

He further stated he believed the men after getting out of the fort encloser walked or ran down the bank and were in the act of crawling over a small broken down stone wall on the shore when he first heard the noise. He said he thought there was something wrong and paddled over to the Royal Military College grounds where he tried to get in touch with the authorities at Fort Henry. He said he gave the message to a women he met on the grounds but was not sure his order to phone Fort Henry was carried out.

When he arrived at Knapp's boat house near La Salle causeway the police were already on the job stopping all types of vehicles.

The Whig-Standard was unable to get any estimate of the number of soldiers and police officers who were assigned to the task of rounding up the prisoners. It has been suggested that the military detachment was in excess of 300 and they were from Vimy Barracks, Ordnance Training Centre and District Depot No. 3. The provincial police details from Eastern Ontario as far west as Belleville were on the job all night and this morning.

This makes the third successful escape from Fort Henry since the start of the war. Two men made a getaway when they forced their way through a window in the wall, which had been enlarged while the third man slipped past the guard when he concealed himself inside a piano. This man was arrested at the Lindsay Piano Company Store, Princess Street, when located by C. L. Gordon, the manager of the firm.

An extensive search is being made of all islands in the St Lawrence River. Motorboats from Kingston, Gananoque and points along the river are assisting in the task of trying to round up the missing prisoners.

BACKGROUND Fort Henry was used as an Internment Camp during the First Great War, and after that it was used by the military authorities for different purposes, mostly for storing ammunition and equipment. About five years ago, at the suggestion of the Department of Highways of Toronto, who realized the Fort could be made a point of interest for tourists, a considerable sum of money was spent in remodelling it and this work was done with the co-operation of the department of defence who shared in the cost.

The Fort was then used as a museum and the guns which were used in the battle of 1812-14 were among the relics. Thousands of United States and Canadian tourists visited the Fort and showed a keen interest in the relics. With the declaration of war the Department of National Defence took over the entire building and it was immediately turned into an internment camp; since that time hundreds of German prisoners of war, mostly from the armed forces, have been confined there.

Fort Henry was considered to be one of the "safer" internment camps, and many of the German prisoners of war, mostly officers who had served in the air force and the navy, and were considered to be the dangerous type, had been confined there.

From page 1:

Biggest Break Here in 1838 One hundred and five years ago the most sensationaall break in Canadian history took place at Fort Henry from which 19 German prisoners escaped last night,

In 1838 John Montgomery. owner of the Yonge Street Tavern from which the rebel, William Lyon Mackenzie, grand- father of Canada's present prime minister, fled from police, escaped from Fort Henry with 11 other prisoners involved in the rebellion.

Under Montgomery's leadership the party made good their escape after a series of adventures with guards and others who scoured the country searching for them. The men had been condemned to death but their sentences had been changed to exile in Van Die man's Land.

Description Of Prisoners Officials of Military District No. 3 early today released descriptions of the 15 prisoners who were not immediately captured following the escape of 19 from the prison camp at nearby Fort Henry. Of these eight have been recaptured. All were listed as Germans. They are:

*Walter Bartels, 21, 153 pounds, six feet, clean shaven and medium build.

Johann Degraff, 27, five feet, seven inches, 147 pounds. Domnick Heinz, 21, 148 pounds, five feet, seven inches. Clean shaven and speaks English with a foreign accent.

Alfred Gunther, 31, 151 pounds, five feet 9½ inches, speaks English and German. Has 14½ inch scar on forehead and a wart on right cheek.

Wilhelm Joesting, 41, 160 pounds, five feet, ten inches. Clean shaven.

Franz Karper, 25, 183 pounds, five feet, 7½ inches. Dark complexion, one inch scar on forehead. Speaks a few words of English, Gerhard Knoepfel, 22, 143 pounds, five feet, six inches. Fair complexion.

Kurt Kroehnert, 26, 137 pounds, five feet, five inches. Medium-dark complexion. Speaks German and English.

Wilhelm Kruse, 27, 150 pounds, six feet. Fair complexion.

Ernst Muench, 24, 145 pounds, five feet, six inches. Fair complexion. Speaks German, Italian and English. Has scar on left side of face.

Hans August Rhomberg. 21, 152 pounds, six feet. Fresh complexion.

Friedrick Schmale, 24, 165 pounds, five feet, six inches. Speaks German and some English with a low, foreign accent.

Karl Schwarz, 22, 140 pounds, five feet, seven inches. Medium complexion. Speaks Spanish, German and a little English.

Heinz Stoerk, 21, 119 pounds, five feet, five inches; fair complexion; had a quarter-inch scar on right eye; speaks German only.

Heinz Wirtz, 23; 140 pounds, tive feet, seven inches; fair complexion.

*-Recaptured.

[sashthesloth]

POV the pathfinder is taking diplomatic relations a bit too seriously

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

*tries to organize my thoughts*

*remembers i'm not in school and therefore beholden to neither heaven nor hell nor any man's grading system*

*joyously shredding & tossing all my carefully arranged 3x5 mental notecards into the air like so much beige confetti. raising my arms in victory, cheering raucously until i accidentally inhale bits of homemade confetti*

(*coughing up itty bits of paper like a cat evicting a hairball with a firm understanding of tenants' rights*) wait wat happens next

[i-amusemyself]

ofc im celebrating that the Tories are out but seeing just how much some people are specifically celebrating a labour government is a bit of a red flag. Like. Are yall ready to hold these people to account??

They're not addressing the ongoing, mass disabling pandemic; they don't support palestine; they're coming for trans rights and they're in favour of NHS privatisation.

Yall have got to be ready to criticise, protest and push, not just be placated by them not being Tories by name.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Only One Alive

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three |

CW: Buried alive, digging out of grave, referenced mass murder, werewolves, nonhuman whumpee, captivity, escape, dehumanizing language, my boy is a survivor

-

Earlier

Misae hadn't known what was happening, at first. 

He’d been locked up alone in a cage in the barn for a week straight after accidentally nipping at Ada’s hand the last time the humans had cut him to take blood. He’d been able to hear the noise of the packs in the kennels, at least, and had sometimes howled just to hear their answering howls in return - until Bill or somebody else came out and yelled and they all went silent again. 

All day, there had been the grumbling roar of machinery somewhere off in the big clearing behind Bill’s house, where the humans lived. All day, things had driven close and then far, close and then far. When Bill’s younger son Aaron had brought Misae his midday meal, he’d dropped the bowl through the bars in a hurry so he could rush back outside, to help or to watch. He’d ignored Misae’s hesitant questions - until the moon rose, he’d been human in shape, curled up in the cage with a blanket over his lap. 

The real humans always ignored them, or hurt them, when they tried to speak. Misae mostly didn’t talk anymore. He had been whipped too many times to keep trying.

It was only after the moon rose, and the shift had taken hold and the voices of Misae’s family had switched from soft human speech to rumbling growls and howling, that the machinery stopped its cacophony.

Shortly after that, the dying began.

At first, the sounds he could hear didn't make any sense. Misae had flattened his own ears against his head to muffle the shouting of the real humans, but it still hurt. Even here, forgotten inside the barn, all the yelling and ordering and threats had been deafeningly loud to his canine ears. 

He’d ended up trying to press his paws up and over them, but even that wasn’t enough.

The sounds the packs made were even more confusing. He could hear the cries of them all, young and old. One of those howls might be his mother, or a deeper pleading for mercy could have been from his father, but the children born in the kennels were never told who had borne them. 

The humans didn’t think werewolves should remember their children, who Bill called ‘puppies’, so they took them after 12 weeks and washed their parents’ smells off them and then handed them off to be raised in the kennels by all the shifters together. 

Misae had never know which voice singing a lullaby might have been the first. Everyone was his mother or father, and no one was. 

For a while, lying in that cage in the barn, he’d heard the pleading and the shouting, fear and rage, uncertainty and maybe even occasional hope that this might be freedom.

Then the first shots rang out.

The loud, horrible sounds of the special gun with its huge silver bullets had gone on and on and on. There had been high-pitched squeals and canine screams. Maybe they were being moved, and needed to be herded onto trailers. They’d moved once, a long time ago when Misae was still carried on someone’s hip. They’d been pushed into trailers in sweltering summer heat and driven from Bill’s last house to this new one, built far away from everyone and everything. 

A few from the packs had protested and tried to fight back. The guns had come out, then - the first time Misae had ever heard them. A couple of the wolves had been shot to show all the others how serious Bill was, and they’d all been good then.

So, for a while, Misae thought they were just herding the wolves, and shooting stragglers or fighters.

But… the shots didn’t stop.

They went on and on and on, with the humans only pausing long enough to reload before firing again. 

The howls of pain built, voices layering over each other. Something was happening that had never happened before, in Misae’s memory. They weren’t culling, killing the rebels and fighters to leave behind the softer, sadder, obedient wolves to be studied. 

Misae was listening to them die.

All of them.

It was Austin who eventually remembered Misae, alone in the barn. Austin came in with a white face and white-rimmed walleyes to unlock Misae’s cage. He tossed a loop of heavy rope over his head, jerking it tight enough to choke him as he slowly dragged him out. Misae [pressed himself against the back of the cage and dug his paws into the dirt, but he wasn’t strong enough. His nails left marks in the dirt. 

Tail tucked under his body, he was forced inch by inch towards the barn door and the squeals and whines and whimpers. They were begging not to die, asking why. The packs had been so good when studied. They had been obedient animals and they cried in confusion and terror when it wasn’t enough, asking the humans over and over why this was happening, what they had done wrong.

The humans couldn’t hear any of it. They didn’t have the right kind of ears.

But Misae did.

Later, he would see that Bill’s family shot the werewolves with silver under the light of the full moon because it was easier to kill them as wolves rather than face murdering them as men. At the time, though, he understood nothing but his own fear. His only awareness was of the pounding beat of his heart being maybe the last thing he would ever feel other than pain, the darkness that would follow it, and finally the promised, inevitable fires of Hell.

Monsters only had one afterlife, after all. Bill always said so. 

“Come on, Rusty, you stupid fucker,” Austin snarled, but his heart wasn’t in the anger he put into his voice. Misae dimly realized Austin was scared, too. “Dad will blow a gasket if he realizes I forgot you were in here-... come on!”

Misae whined. Austin jerked the noose tight again to cut the sounds off, but he wouldn’t look right at Misae as he pulled him along. Austin looked like he’d seen a ghost. No, he looked like what he was - someone not much older than Misae was, forced to make ghosts. He’d probably made three dozen of them by now as Misae listened-

Misae tossed his head back and howled.

No one answered the call.

No one was left with enough breath to do it.

There was a big hole dug in the clearing.

That’s what the machinery had been doing all day, dragging huge piles of earth up and out, depositing it into a big pile off to one side. A hole like a wound in the grass had been left, nearly filled now by blood and fur and open, unseeing eyes. The sight loomed so large in Misae’s mind that he didn’t really see it at all.

His mind instead simply let horror wash over him even as it refused to accept the images his eyes tried to share. He would never be able to clearly recall the sight. He owed it to them, his pack, his family, to remember their deaths but his eyes and his brain would never allow it. Instead, he heard the sounds.

Some of them were still whimpering, when Misae was pushed up to the edge of the hole. Some of them were still whining. Some of them were only breathing, loud, heavy gasps that held too much blood in struggling lungs. He heard them all.

He would hear them all in his sleep, when he slept, for the rest of his life.

When Misae turned his head away from the horror of the pit, his eyes met the depthless black of the barrel of Austin’s gun instead. Austin’s hands were shaking, and the barrel kept dancing too far to the right or the left, unable to settle on its aim. 

Misae dropped his head slightly. He let out a soft, plaintive whine.

“Shut the fuck up,” Austin hissed. He looked like he was going to be sick any second, throw up all over the dead wolves behind Misae or all over himself. “Don’t do that. I have to-... I have to.”

Misae looked away again. He made himself take one step, and then another, hovering just at the edge of the pit, looking down into a dozen open eyes, some wide with fear, and some seeing nothing at all any longer.

“Look… I’m sorry, Rusty,” Austin said, voice low. “I really am sorry. But I have to.”

BOOM.

Misae’s heart stopped.

His body toppled forward and he fell gracelessly into the pit.

Misae landed heavily on top of warm bodies, smeared in blood. It smelled like his family, and like metal and fire, and death. He knew what silver felt like in his body, how badly the agony would overtake everything else. It confused him when he realized he didn’t feel that pain. How could he be dead without hurting first? Had it been instantaneous, a shot to the head? Was he going to drift here in a corpse-body until Hell came for him? 

He stretched one paw and then another. He took the deepest breath he could. His heart was still beating. He was alive.

Austin had missed.

The relief was overwhelming. One of the others was trying to move, Nina he thought, and her huge paw pushed against Misae’s snout, forcing his head to turn painfully to one side. He nearly bit his own tongue to keep from making any noise. Her huge body settled over his, jerking reflexively as she kept trying to move. Nina whined, low in her throat, again and again.

Someone else rolled, and pressed against him on another side.  

He heard Austin above him, sounding farther away than he really was. There was another shot. Nina jolted and went still. “Okay… okay, got him that time. I’m sure I did… I’m sure.” Austin didn’t sound sure. His voice trembled. He retched, and Misae listened to him and wondered why he was losing his supper over the murders he had been the one to commit.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Someone else soothed. Sandra, Misae thought, maybe. Bill’s wife. “Remember, not ‘him’... ‘It’. Don’t act like they’re people. Doesn’t matter if you hit it, it’ll suffocate once we get the dirt back in, anyway.” Her voice softened. Misae could imagine she hugged Austin, her precious son. What was having a mother like? “You did a good job, Aussie. It was a cleansing. The versipellis is washed clean and clear, and we can begin again. Your dad will figure out a cure one day, I know he will. He’d been led… this is his calling.”

“I hope not,” Austin replied. “I hope we’re… I hope we’re done, Mom.”

Nina, on top of him, was going limp, turning to dead weight. Misae could barely breathe.

“Dad will stop trying to figure out werewolves now, right?” Austin sounded… young. And softer, maybe further away. They were leaving. “We won’t have to do this again?” There wasn’t a reply, not one that traveled to Misae at least. After a pause, Austin made a noise of despair that made Misae want to laugh, with hysterical loathing and panic. “Please, Mom, tell me he’s going to stop now. Tell me he won’t just go find another group to run his tests on. Please tell me he’s done!”

The roar of the big machinery began again, and Misae didn’t know what Sandra might have said next. 

Would there be other wolves in the kennels, soon enough? Other puppies born in the shed and then taken away to be blood-tested for the sickness? Would the new wolves smell the deaths of the last ones, and know that they would probably end up here, too, once all these bodies had turned to bones?

The first heap of earth fell.

All of those still alive began a new and frantic struggle. Their howls were more like screams, now, so loud that Misae’s whole head throbbed with them. He knew he was making sounds, too, but he couldn’t really hear them over his own heartbeat and the sound of static inside his head. He couldn’t even begin to stop himself. He could feel the vibration in his throat.

Another of his pack - Den, lying beside him and who was probably a littermate, even though nobody was supposed to know who their litter-siblings were - had gone still, too. Misae tried to wriggle out from under Nina, but her weight felt impossible, and with every passing minute more and more dirt fell. Covering the wolves, cutting them off from the moonlight. Misae went blind, except for a little sliver he could see when he dared open his eyes, before he had to clench them shut against the dirt that kept trying to work its way in.

For a while, he was surrounded by the whines, the whimpers, the pain and fear. His pack still begging for mercy, even now, even as they were buried. Wriggling, hot fur and the smell of blood overran every other scent in the world. Blood and silver, burning them from the inside out.  

Each of their voices went silent, one by one.

Eventually, finally, he could hear his own whimpering.

Misae was the only one left making any sound. 

Still, he could see a hint of the moonlight against the back of his closed eyes. The dirt was heavier on one side of the hole than the other, it hadn’t been evenly filled in. They might come back and push it over, though, make it solid and impenetrable, rob Misae of the air he still had to breathe. Hide the grave, cover it in new grass or clover or flowers. 

He couldn’t hear the machine any longer.

He couldn’t hear people, either.

How long Misae laid there, he didn’t know. The bodies around him were becoming more solid with every passing minute, weighing on him more heavily. His own heart kept pounding, but he thought he was the only one. He would die here, under the dirt, surrounded by the corpses of his family. It was the longest he had ever been allowed to be here with all of them, and it would be forever. There was something… nice about that.

Misae was so scared of being alone.

But he was more afraid to die.

He began to wriggle his smaller body, as carefully as he could. He shifted, moved inch by slow inch out from under Nina’s body until even his tail finally pulled free of her, smeared in bloody mud. Dirt was ground into his fur, stuffed up his ears, found its way into his mouth and down his throat. He had to keep his eyes closed, and sometimes snorted out air to try and clear out his snout only to breathe more in.

He could taste their deaths on his tongue.

Alone.

He shifted his paw, slowly, carefully. Dug it into the dirt and then crooked a joint, pulled himself forwards using the catch of his nails to help him balance. He could smell a little bit of fresh air, and sense a little moonlight. He knew which way to go, if he focused on the moon. The moon always led the wolves, it meant for them to shift to run, not to be locked up in kennels pacing with endless restlessness until they were whipped by the humans for misbehaving.

He moved his other paw, echoing the motions of the first. 

He had to dig his slow way up through the bodies of his family, shoving them aside when he could, when there was room. He climbed on top of them, moved his ears in apologies when he had to dig nails into their bellies or press paws against their heads, when he knew he was being watched by sightless eyes. Every member of his pack he moved past, he named their smells - Nina, Den, Hanwi, Nayi, Koya, Ka, Bliss. He repeated their names to himself, because no one else would ever say them. The humans had given them all other names, dog-names that sat like insults on human tongues. The wolves had had their own names for each other, and he thought them now, every single one.

Sometimes he felt the rough press of a tongue against him and hope would rise, small and soft, only to drop back to despair when Misae realized what he felt was a dead tongue lolling out of an unmoving mouth.

His stomach clenched, and heaved, but he fought it back down.

Eventually, though, one paw found the edge of the pit, and then the other. He felt the breeze against the softer fur there and whimpered, desperate to have that air on every part of his body, desperate for the knowledge that he’d made it out.

He pushed down on both front paws as hard as he could, his wasted muscles protesting as he pulled himself up and out, back paws scrabbling in the loose dirt, shoving himself up using Tate’s shoulder for balance. He panted, tongue out, opening his eyes finally to see the bright shine of moonlight as his head popped up over the pit, his ears up and swiveling immediately, checking for sounds, for any humans nearby.

He heard nothing.

Nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

But… there was a smell other than blood, finally, a smell that wasn’t death. The wind blew cool against his face. He smelled pine trees and birds hidden behind leaves. He felt the moon on his fur the way he imagined it might feel to have a mother hold you, and finally with one last push he stood on all four legs in the grass once again. 

He shook himself, dirt falling from his fur in what felt like waves. Spread his toes, let his paws really sink into the soft earth. Took in a huge breath and then let it out in something like a sigh. 

He was alive.

He was the only one alive.

Then, from close to the big house, he heard Aaron’s soft high child’s voice ask, edged with exhaustion, “Hey, Austin? Is that one of the werewolves over by the, um, the hole?”

Austin cursed. Misae turned to look just as Austin, with a red face and teary eyes, aimed and fired. He was too far away to even hope to hit, but a tree close by Misae suddenly burst apart in an explosion of pine needles and bark.

Misae let himself take one last look at the sight of someone’s paw sticking up above the loose dirt.

Kola's, he thought. There was a white spot on Kola's black paw.

Austin took aim again, and Misae ran.

-

Tag list: @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings @deluxewhump @yassifiedinformation @whatwhump @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @tundra-tiger

[fisheito]

watched aegis yaku's r5 and immediately felt the need to balance out the universe [SMUSHES YAKUMO FLAT]

[artfartt]

Merry new year’s eve!

[temmiebazooka]

legitamately realizing i survive on fnf, like my little gremlin ass just crawls out of my pillow fort every now and again to scroll fnf Tumblr while listening to my fnf playlist

and then i go hibernate forever, literally never posting (sorry to everyone who followed me under the impression id be posting cool art or that im relatively normal)

[shadesofmauve]

It all fits: The asari as conservative capitalists

[Thanks to @swaps55, @comeoniwantacoolname, @shadoedseptmbr, and everyone else who contributed to this wild red-string-connecting ride. Don't know all the tumblr names]

The asari: galactic influencers known for elegance and diplomacy. The only full natural biotics, powerful, graceful, and attractive to everyone they meet. The species at the pinnacle of advanced biotic technology.

And holders of immense wealth, acquired over 1,000-year life spans spent playing capitalist chess with galactic society.

Yes, the asari are the most technologically advanced race in the galaxy, but they're not innovators. They're ahead because protheans masquerading as gods gave them hot civilization tips that equated to a millennia-long head-start. They're ahead of the rest, but they move slowly. Within a few centuries — well within the life-time of most asari living today — they'll lose that technological advantage. From asari board rooms to Thessian political think-tanks, this is seen as a looming disaster.

Thankfully for the asari, long life-spans also mean the opportunity to amass huge amounts of wealth. You don't need to be an innovator if you can hire the best minds in the galaxy and lock them under a brutal non-compete contract. Buy out the competition entirely if you can; if that won't work, steal their secrets. You know how the council prohibited genetic modification and AI research because of 'ethics' and 'galactic safety'? Those laws also just happened to effectively quash scientific study in two areas where the asari were already starting to lag behind.

Ever wonder why the volus,creators of the whole financial system, don't have a seat on the council!? Who would want to keep the people who understand financial systems away from power, if not the people who are successfully gaming that system?

The asari reputation as master negotiators is chalked up to experience, skill, and empathy, but the unspoken threat is their ability to stop any negotiation dead in it's tracks. They are the masters of stalling, stonewalling, and passive blockades. Other species might filibuster. An asari can walk away from the table and wait for you to die.

It may look like galactic civilization is a multi-species effort gracefully guided by wise elder asari. It's actually a bunch of shorter-lived species being held over a barrel by sexy blue Mitch McConnell.

Sure, their kids go out and dance at bars or get involved in mercenary groups. That's fine: other species tend to underestimate you when all they see is your trust-fund kids tearing it up on their decades-long spring break. And it's not that risky. Mamma can always buy junior's way into the best armor (or out of jail).

A vastly-longer life lends itself to even more unethical behavior, though. Y'know that super popular dating site? Did you know if you dig through the front companies it's asari-owned? Did you realize when you submitted your genetic profile to 'help find your perfect match using proprietary technology' you also signed away rights to your own genome? No, of course you didn't — the fine-print is forty-six pages long! Forty-six pages is nothing to an attorney with a thousand-year life span! And they REFUSE to share their matching algorithm. Why?! Because they're BREEDING US. They can choose the traits they want using your own genetic code, and only match you with mates likely to pass them on! It's not a service, it's eugenics via tindr. It doesn't matter if doing that via dating app is wildly inefficient; when you have 1,000 years inefficiency doesn't matter!

WAKE UP!!!!

[shortkingvi]

thinking about midnight mass again and the expendability of humanity by religious zealotism and the social sacrificial nature of blind religious loyalty and how yet, in spite of all that,,,, the beauty of community and love and forgiveness and peace,, god……….

[awwrealmonsters]

Round 2 of the Human/Monster Romance Poll is up on Twitter here: X. 

Thank you everyone who voted in the first round, I’m thrilled at the response. The voting has been shortened this time to 3 days so if you are interested please vote :)

Featured Here

R2-1: Belle and the Beast (Beauty and the Beast) Vs  Hellboy and Liz Sherman (Hellboy)

R2-2: Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood (The Magnus Archives) Vs  Prince Sidon and Link (Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

R2-3: Elisa Esposita and The Amphibian Man (The Shape of Water) Vs  Goliath and Elisa Maza (Gargoyles)

R2-4: Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian (Mass Effect) Vs  Roxanne Ritchi and Megamind (Megamind)

R2-5:  Twilight the Demon King and Princess Syalis (Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle) Vs  Miss Kobayashi and Tohru (Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid)

R2-6:  Sanga and Ashivon (Escape From Divinity Series) Vs  Catra and Adora (She-Ra)

R2-7:  Professor Kasukabe and Haru the Devil (Dorohedoro) Vs  Venom the Symbiote and Eddie Brock (Venom)

R2-8:  Orpheus and Eurydice (Hades Game) Vs  Benjamin Kirby Tennyson and Rook Blonko (Ben 10:Omniverse)

Check out the previous Round Here: X For the names of the non-winners.

[bemp0]

(WIP) Found my old take on the color wheel challenge and decided it was time for a redraw

[lunar-lumi]

i’m normal about him guys i promise

[oediex]

On Horizon, Kaidan gives you a hug, and the fucking Vigil theme starts playing. HELLOO???

[redbean-nom]

quite poetically ironic for demagol to do all those jedi torture-experiments in the name of "finding out how the force works" only to turn out to be force-sensitive himself