#r: machiavel

[best-hohenzollern-ruler]

Friedrich der Große (r. 1740 - 1786)

'Old Fritz'

Friedrich and Catherine grasped that universal truth: Poland is a mess. They saw a kingdom fracturing apart at the seams - never you mind who helped to unstitch it - and their hearts wept for the plight of the Poles. In such a state of disarray, what were good neighbors to do but forcefully open the door and invite themselves in? Polnische Wirtschaft was replaced with Preußentum and our people have gotten along swimmingly since.

But that is enough of war, isn't it? No, such a man as Old Fritz was defined by many talents and interests. He prided himself on being more a philosopher than warrior and his creative pursuits attest to this capacity. Before ascending to the throne, he "anonymously" published a treatise titled The Anti-Machiavel. In it, he took a bold stance against prince's limitless pursuit of ambition and power were detrimental to the state and that the best way to rule was with a just mind and heart. While some argue vociferously about what this reveals about the king in light of his wars with Austria, I believe a man should be allowed to say whatever he so chooses and not be held to it. And that is the height of philosophy. (Note: Was your mother a Frenchwoman? -L)

Friedrich, like a dragon, could have hoarded all the brilliance of the lands for himself. But that was not his style, not the color of his soul. Prussia was not to be Sparta alone, but Athens as well. The Academies of Art and Science were revitalized, having fallen into a state of negligence during his father's reign. The Berlin Academy under his reign attracted enlightenment heavyweights such as Maupertius, Francesco Algarotti, Le Mettrie, and others we simply can't afford the space to print. It was under his reign that Berlin began to attract the intellectual prestige it has increasingly been known for.

Albrecht (r. 1525 - 1568)

Duke of Prussia

Albrecht was the first ruler within European with the courage to throw off the yoke of Catholic tyranny. He embraced Lutheranism with open arms, a choice that would echo down from the Hohenzollerns to people of Prussia. Indeed, the wealth he stole reappropriated from papal purses enriched the livelihoods of his nobles. How does this benefit the peasant class? Well, as Herr Reagan was explaining to me one night in Hell, [the rest is scribbled out, followed by 'NO -L' and underlined three times]

Albrecht took a keen interest in the development of schools throughout ducal Prussia. His crowning achievement in this regard was the establishment of Königsberg University, which was intended to rival the Catholic Krakow Academy.

[apesoformythoughts]

«Pope Francis cannot reign forever. He has not created a functioning bureaucracy – certainly not one that can hope to survive him – and he has done much to create conditions in which the men charged with choosing his successor may have a harder time of it than should have been necessary.

There are not only competing visions for the Church and incompatible views of how to achieve incommensurable goals. The unknowns of personality, record, talent, taste, style, and a host of other qualities all bearing on fitness for office abound […]

Given the general tenor of things under Francis, however, it is possible that Machiavelli is too much. Perhaps a better literary measure of the reign may be found in Terry Pratchett’s fantastic Machiavel, Lord Havelock Vetinari. “[W]henever some well-meaning soul begins a novel enterprise they always, with some kind of uncanny foresight, site it at the point where it will do maximum harm to the fabric of reality.”»

— Christopher R. Altieri: “Where does the Francis pontificate go from here?”

[sushis4kalyo]

Liste de livres à lire 📚

Aventures :

J. VERNE - Vingt Mille lieues sous les mers

Dystopies :

G. ORWELL - La ferme des animaux

r. BRADBURY - Fahrenheit 451

P. K. DICK - Le Maître du Haut Château

Science-fiction :

I. AZIMOV - Le cycle des Robots ( tomes 3, 4, 5 et 6)

I. AZIMOV - Le cycle Fondation

A. C. CLARKE - 2001 L'Odyssée de l'Espace

Fantastique :

G. R. R. MARTIN - A song of Ice and Fire (tome 4 et 5)

M. CHATTAM - Autre Monde (on reprend de zéro !)

A. SAPKOWSKI - Le sorceleur

Les classiques :

E. ZOLA : Au Bonheur des Dames

COMTESSE DE SEGUR - Les malheurs de Sophie

COMTESSE DE SEGUR - Les petites filles modèles

COMTESSE DE SEGUR - Les Vacances

V. HUGO - Notre Dame de Paris

Mythologie :

S. STURLUSON - Les Eddas

HOMERE - L'illiade et l'Odyssée

Comédie dramatique :

L. WEISBERGER - Le diable s'habille en Prada

L. WEISBERGER - Vengeance en Prada

Pour me faire un avis :

N. MACHIAVEL - Le Prince

V. NABOVOK - Lolita

B. WERBER - La trilogie des Fourmis

[bhb-equanimitimmarcescible]

¡ndustr!@ge & T@r!f¡ction

Un regard plongeant si profondément dans le passé, qui dans le présent avait tant de clairvoyance, dut aussi voir loin dans l’avenir. Une intelligence, qui, dès le XVIè s., comprenait l’importance d’une armée nationale, et reconnus que le temps des petites républiques était révolu.

Mais comment, avec les sentiments républicains de Machiavel, expliquer les conseils qu’il donne à son usurpateur concernant les républiques ? Si ce républicain zélé, ce grand penseur et ce grand écrivain, ce patriote martyr conseille à l’usurpateur futur de détruire jusque dans ses racines la liberté des républiques, ne doit-on voir chez lui que le désir de gagner les bonnes grâces du prince…

[the-incomplete-sky]

Withering to death.

Artist: Dir en Grey

Subgenre(s): Loud Kei

Rating: 3.5/5

Standouts: Machiavellism, Jesus Christ R’n R, KODOU

honestly i was a tad let down by this album. maybe it’s because i had already been listening to my favourite track, Machiavellism for quite some time, but… i wasn’t as ecstatic about this one. of course i still really liked it and maybe i hold Diru to a really high standard because i still liked it but yk.

i also noticed a huge pattern—repeating lyrics. it’s a musical choice used a whole bunch in this album, and i don’t know how they landed on using it for almost all the tracks. i don’t mind it enough to complain about it further, but i did notice it a lot.

i still enjoyed it and added a bunch of the songs to my main playlist but i don’t think it was as astounding as Gauze or Macabre or whatever. overall nice album but i wouldn’t sing high praise for it.

[hngrylikethewoolf]

London Calling || Errigan

IN WHICH...Errol and Ratigan have a discussion in the middle of a crowded London café. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None that I can think of

Backdated:  July 25, 2021

@professorofcrimeratigan

ERROL:

Errol was a werewolf. 

No, the irony of that statement was not lost on him. 

The first thing he'd done upon being bitten and treated was limp his way back to his hotel, blood burning in his veins, a fever hanging over him, and passing out in the rented room, clunky gauze and bandages catching the blood that sluggishly seeped from the closing wounds. He had been explicit when they worked on him, told them to wear proper gear, didn't care that he wasn't their boss, he took the pitch of Ratigan's voice and used it to his sluggish, half-advantage. He burned everything when he awoke, a new sense of being shifting around in his chest, a secondary something there that hadn't been before. 

He had been debriefed about Shifters, knew of them from his work overseas and from a former Army Ranger he'd befriended that had been bitten by a lone wolf during a mission, at least a decade ago now, maybe more. They still kept in contact, and he was the first person Errol had called, the beast shifting around in his chest, testing out the cage. They needed to learn how to work together while he figured out his next steps. 

The conversation he had with his friend helped, if anything, to calm the tidal wave of emotions he could feel tugging at him. The wolf was with him now. Panicking about it would make the transition all that more difficult. 

Errol had also just been shot, had a man digging around in the meat of his thigh to close an artery that would have killed him if not for the help of the bite. It was still there, still healing, but it wasn't deadly. He deserved a few days of recuperation, to wrap his head around it all. 

Pedram Ratigan was a werewolf. 

Somehow that information didn't surprise him as much as it should. It had saved his life, after all. The other information he had received that day was telling, but it made no difference to him at this moment. Pieces of things he'd observed, things that now made more sense, he would keep tucked away. Could examine later, once he had a more firm grasp on his wolf and the place they now had in the world. 

Errol had information to hand over, after all. He had no time to wonder, though he wanted to. He'd barely scratched the surface of who Ratigan could potentially be. He would focus on what he knew, what they both were now, and go from there. 

That started in a nondescript café at the heart of the city, surrounded by people in a way that created the perfect veil of anonymity. Errol had a feeling they would need it. 

RATIGAN: 

Clean up of the situation had been taken care of. Bodies disposed, blood mopped, evidence picked up. Had anyone entered the warehouse they would never have known of the violence that had taken place there. 

The ambulance had been left elsewhere, also cleansed of any evidence linking back to the three people who had been inside it last. 

One would think that was the worst part of it, the clean up. Having to make sure that nothing had been left behind for even the smallest chance of being caught. Ratigan had shared the same sentiment as soon as he realized he was now somewhere in the system. Back when he’d been nothing there had been no fear, no need to wipe his prints or panic when his blood had been left behind. There had been no way to find him, no place to follow his growing trail back to. 

It had been a flaw in the system and Ratigan had used it on his campaign to the head of the table. Anyone within his network would have access to cleaners. (They had quickly become, without a doubt, the biggest source of income.) 

But there were still loose threads to deal with— one of them being the sheriff. 

Ratigan had returned to a safe house and contacted Fidget who had not done as he was told. The sheriff had walked free and was roaming the streets of London. All that work and now he was having to rely on word alone that he would be given what he wanted. 

He met where the sheriff wanted but planned ahead— best not to leave anything to chance when he did not have to. He was already seated at a table when the sheriff arrived, a cup of tea sitting in front of him. His attention was on the crossword puzzle of the newspaper he was leaning over. It wasn’t until the other man was seated that he spoke. 

“Fine choice, this place.” His tone was light and conversational. It matched the tables around them along with the clinking spoons against the sides of mugs, fingers striking keyboards, creaking furniture as someone shifted in their seat. “Do you have the information you promised me?” 

ERROL: 

The fact Ratigan was already there when Errol showed up wasn't surprising. 

The sheriff took a second to reorient himself, eyes scanning the coffee shop as he unwound his scarf from his throat, considering all the exits and number of bodies in a matter of moments. All the noises and all the smells swirled around, heightened by the wolf. It was a tinge uncomfortable, having to adjust to it, but Errol barely let a flicker of it cross his face. A slight widening of the nostrils, a tilt to his head, but nothing more. 

He still had a job to do though and, now, a debt to repay. 

Errol sat casually, mindful of his leg, smiling like they were having a grand time, and nodded his head with a little laugh. "Mmm, aye. I do." An arm slung across the back of the chair beside him, and he shifted sideways, allowing himself to see the door in his peripheral vision. A gun sat, a heavy weight, just above his left hip. Where no one else but Ratigan could see; if he was looking--which he was,  Errol already knew--then he would catch it. Gauze and bandaging wrapped around his thigh beneath his clothes, unnoticeable but a necessary addition until his leg entirely healed. 

There were still people that were trying to kill the bastard, after all. And Errol never liked to leave anything to chance, especially when it came to someone's life, especially when it was someone that he knew. 

At this close a proximity to the other man, the scent of his cologne was sharp in Errol's nose, both familiar and foreign. It was distinctly Ratigan, and it made the wolf perk up its head, interested for the first time all morning. The sheriff bit the inside of his cheek, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as the beast stretched, waking. He breathed in deep to calm himself but it just pulled the scent further into his lungs. It made the wolf whine, and Errol grit his teeth, acknowledging it with a barely-there shift in his seat, a ploy to get more comfortable. 

See, they'd reached a bit of an understanding back in his hotel room, over these last three or so days. Errol knew he had him now and the wolf knew he was attached. They couldn't change it, could merely work around it, and they would. First, Errol just needed him to calm the fuck down about the person across from him. The pressure in his chest, now, was uncomfortable, a testing of bonds and an attempt to move closer. If Errol moved any closer, he'd be vaulting the table and sitting on the man. 

Just another werewolf, perhaps? Or the insane, but possible, notion that Pedram had been the one to bite him? 

Instead of saying any of that, Errol leaned down and pulled a folder from the old Army kit he'd slung to the floor upon arrival. He aligned it on the table, neat, straight corners, before pushing that and two others with it across the table. His smile turned crooked, almost amused. 

"'S t' extra I told ye about. It's all on the drive, too, but I wrote t' access information down. Figure ye'd want proof 'fore I jus' gave ye a drive." 

The wolf tested its bonds, found them to be solid, and Errol shifted in his seat again, ignoring the discomfort, focus never wavering from Ratigan's face. 

RATIGAN: 

He placed his pen down and leaned back in his chair, waiting. All of this was so tedious and annoying. He did not want to be there but of course there would have been such a great tantrum thrown had it not been him the information had been passed off to. At this point he knew that the sheriff did the things he did simply to spite Ratigan because, well, he must have nothing better to do being a police officer. It’s just what they did. 

The looming subject of what had taken place in the last moments of their previous encounter was ever present but Ratigan didn’t care whatsoever. It did not concern him whether the sheriff was taking well to his new normal or whatever (no doubt ridiculous) questions were at the ready to be asked should he give some sort of sign of acknowledgement. He refused. Whatever the sheriff was looking for he would not find it. 

“Thank you,” he said politely and even smiled. Finally. At least this massive headache will have been worth something in the end. Ratigan placed the files at the edge of the table. Seconds later the waitress passed by, picking them up. Neither acknowledged the other as she breezed by. 

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, we should address the elephant in the room, shall we?” He reached for the cup of tea to take a sip. There was no rush in his movements, he was the picture of leisure. “I fully intend to return to Swynlake and continue my life there. You’ve proven yourself to be— puerile when it comes to some of your choices in how you go about things. I implore you, sheriff, to not continue this trend as far as your knowledge of me goes. You are only alive now because I allowed it. I can just as easily change my mind should you get the idea that I am someone you can ruin.” 

He shrugged. “But then, where would the fun in that be? If you attempt to take away what is important to me then rest assured I shall do the same to you. The only difference being that I will be able to rebuild— the same cannot be said for you. Or your family.” 

ERROL: 

Ratigan was smiling. Wasn't that a terrifying thought, given the circumstances? It was a nice one, though. Errol couldn't help but glance toward it, a brow ticking upward just as the edge of his mouth curled, rueful. 

It wasn't pleasant, but he thought it could be. Ratigan had a nice smile. 

Errol dipped his head in acknowledgement, eyes following the waitress for a moment as she tucked the folders beneath an arm. The Irishman snorted, amused. Of course Ratigan had people here. Errol would have too, if he could. He settled in to listen instead, head tilting to the side in curiosity. 

A bark of laughter escaped when Ratigan started threatening, a delighted little sound that curled around his eyes and lit up his smile. He knew the man was deadly serious, and something dark and dangerous and ugly flickered in the sheriff's gaze once his family was mentioned, but the amusement still clung to him, a shroud. 

"Ah, luv, ye dunne 'ave tah worry. Ye might fink 'm stupid, but I ain't. 'Ve got no reason tah say shite. What hurts ye, hurts me. 'S cute ye fink I might, though. Threatin' a diff'rent man's family might nah've ended yer way, but I like ye." He leaned forward, wide, sharp smile on his face, studying Ratigan's own. "So 'm jus' gonna tell ye once. They're mine. Leave 'em be."

He doubted the man took him seriously, but he should. Errol saw in him much of what had driven himself, still did. 

Ratigan was right about one thing, though. Errol was only alive because he'd allowed it, because he had needed the information Errol had. A moment later, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat, drawing out a flash drive. He tsked, tongue clicking against the backs of his front teeth as the wolf squirmed, pushing the drive close across the table. "That'd be t' rest. It's got t' information fer everyone 'at came tah t' extraction an' yer mutineers." 

Errol grinned, sweet as pie. He had a copy of all the information. 

RATIGAN: 

He sighed, an eyebrow raising because no, he did not think this man was stupid, he knew this man was stupid. The evidence stacked against him was substantial and nothing he said would prove otherwise.

The laughter almost made him want to do something more to prove his point, that nothing about this was funny or amusing or some sort of game the sheriff seemed to believe the world was. 

“Please, sheriff, no pet names. We are in public and I think we are past the need to make me blush.” And perhaps that may have sounded different to the average eavesdropper but here it was another threat. This, above all else, irked Ratigan more than anything else— it was as if the man thought there was some sort of rapport between them, like he was allowed to address him as anything other than his name. Even the wolf recoiled against it, his emotions so heavy that it was pulled away from the excitement of the newcomer in order to protect what was important above all else. 

He gave a nod of understanding, as if he understood the concept of family on a personal level instead of just an observational one. “I do think that’s rather the point. They’re your family, and if you want them off the table then I suggest you do not partake in this game.” 

Ratigan reached for the flashdrive, placing it in his own pocket. 

“I will give you the opportunity to leave it be. This is no longer your concern, and to be honest it never was. If I were you, I would forget any of this has happened and return to your life as it was.” His fingers laced together, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. “This is more than I would ever give someone of your—” His eyes flickered over the man, disgust coming and going over his expression but never leaving his voice, “—profession. Do not be ungrateful.” 

ERROL: 

Ratigan sighed and raised a brow and Errol followed the movement, mirroring it with one of his own. He'd leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed across the other at the knee, arm slack across the back of the chair beside him, a picture of repose. 

See, what no one else understood, Ratigan included, was that Errol had no reason to be afraid of him, not personally. Yes, he threatened his family, and the sheriff believed him when he said that he'd harm them if he thought it necessary, but Errol never had any intention of making it so. He knew the professor thought he was stupid, he claimed he did. 

But, then, that begged the question of why he had been used in the first place. Errol almost wanted to ask, except he knew it would do him no good. 

He focused on the droll looking the other man gave him when he asked not to be called by a pet name, that they were 'past the need to make him blush.' A few choice thoughts skittered across his mind, then, each of them worse than the last. Mirth colored his eyes for a second before it disappeared. As he had before, Errol dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement. 

"Noted, sir." There, should stroke his ego well enough. He dutifully kept away from the always-endearing moniker of "professor." While that was equally as neutral territory, it gave something away. The former did not. If he could hedge a bet, however, Ratigan wouldn't like that one, either. 

Refraining from saying anything smart or rolling his eyes at the heavy-handed threat, Errol reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet and a pocket knife, the latter of which he showed to the other man before setting it on the table, engraving up. He continued to exude nonchalance as he thumbed through a few bills, the Elvira winking up at him from the table. 

Perhaps such threats worked on his underlings, but Errol had dealt with people at Ratigan's caliber, and worse, for two decades. Granted, they were far less intelligent, but they were no less driven or full of themselves. 

This wasn't a game, even if Ratigan thought he believed it to be.

The quip about his profession did earn a grin and another nod. He understood. Hell, Errol often felt the same. It was why he'd clawed his way to the top in such a short time. If anyone could call a decade or so short. He didn't like being forced to take orders, orders he would disobey or orders that might not be entirely ethical in the sense of the job (his own personal ethics notwithstanding) so it'd made sense to become what he had. 

If you could become the head, you didn't have to cut yourself off at the neck. Had people who could protect you if someone tried.

Cocking his head to the side, Errol's eyes assessed Ratigan's face, his voice suddenly, deathly serious. "It was never a game. What I did 'fore all o' this...ye say anyfin' an' yer dead. 'S t' same fing 'ere, more or less." 

He flicked the pocket knife toward the other man, then, and nodded at it. 

"'Ere's yer promise. Type 'at intah t' military database an' ye get yerself a bit o' an easier access tah me redacted files." 

RATIGAN: 

Ratigan’s temper was running thin. This man had no idea what he was talking about— he had only had eyes on this for so long. Ratigan had been at this for years. This was not even a scratch at the surface, it was barely a brush of a finger against it. There was nothing that could be said here that would be able to convince Ratigan that this man, the same one who had gone into a situation with no back up, no plan, and every intention of dying with the way he had been trying to fight his way out of the corner he had basically walked himself into and sat there, waiting to see what would happen and then continued to press his back against the walls as he was attacked, knew what he was talking about. 

He gave the knife a brief glance as that was all it was good for. 

“That’s very generous of you, sheriff,  but if you think that I don’t already know everything that the government has on you then I think that says enough about your role here.” 

It had taken longer than Ratigan had been happy with, but he had been able to find the files the sheriff thought were protected. The government may have had the best in the business, recruiting those from criminal backgrounds in order to fight back against those wanting their information, but Ratigan had better. 

All that to say, Ratigan was not very impressed by what he had seen. Again, his dog’s record outshone him. If anything, it irked Ratigan all the more. Police were bad but the military was worse, in his opinion. 

“Enough of— whatever this was supposed to be.” He gestured to the knife with a flippant hand, eyes widening briefly with perfectly placed annoyance. “What is it that you want?”

Because surely he must have wanted something. Everyone did. Otherwise he would not have shown up. (Even if it was something as simple as to sate his naïve curiosity.) 

ERROL: 

Errol's grin was triumphant this time, self-satisfaction evident. He'd managed to get the confirmation he wanted. It did not surprise him. As he had quickly started to learn, Ratigan was well-prepared for everything. He didn't take things at face value, yet he tried to make it seem like he did. He was contradictory yet made it seem like all his ducks were in a row. 

It was fascinating and strange and something that Errol wanted to poke and prod at and toe the line of until he found it all out, even now. Saddled with a new burden and threatened, nearly killed. He had been truthful before when he said he liked the other man. For all his prickly, sharp outer edges, Errol did like him. 

A small sigh escaped and Errol tapped his knuckles against the tabletop, chewing on his lip, trying to think of a way to get the other man to understand. He didn't know if he ever could, to explain why the knife was important. Why it meant something, the one sliver of a show of loyalty, of acknowledgement that he could give. 

Maybe it was playing with fire, but Errol had never minded being burned. With the way things were shaping up now, he was very aware of the fact he couldn't stay in the job he was in, had already begun to spin the yarn that would allow him to leave it behind. It had been something he had been considering but this last nail had formed his coffin, driving the point home. 

Errol heard the annoyance and flicked his gaze up to Ratigan's face, brows lifting toward his hairline, a silent question. Does this bug you so much, just having a conversation?

Even if the conversation was layered, laced with threat and code and whatever other secrecy he could pack in then bubble wrap it from the outside world, it was still, to Errol at least, a decent one. He had always been comfortable in hostile situations, though. 

He didn't turn his smile charming, like he would with anyone else. Didn't try to coat his words with honeyed pleasantries or spin a yarn. No, Ratigan was too direct, so Errol needed to be, too. 

"Wanted tah talk tah ye. Wasna lyin' when I said I liked ye, before." Threats and all, actually, but that was neither here nor there, and something Errol could keep tucked very, very far away. "An' if ye fink I was givin' information about yer life tah someone else, ye woulda been wrong. 'S why I insisted, 'cause 'S important." To me, to you, whomever you want to believe. "Fer what 'S worth, anyway." 

He still hadn't figured out how to explain the knife. It sat in the middle of the table, heavy. Errol wasn't going to take it back now, though. He knew Ratigan didn't think he was smart. Knew he believed he had gone into that alleyway and warehouse without a plan, backup, or a care. Except he had been wrong. Though he hadn't been one hundred percent certain, Errol had known the person he needed the information would have kept track of him, possibly would have followed him, and he had been right.

Sometimes he forgot he wasn't a soldier anymore, that he couldn't just waltz into a hostile zone and expect to make it out mostly alive because people had his six. He wasn't that man, not entirely, not anymore, but he could also never make it go away. He'd done it for too long. 

"An' I wanted tah know how long ye've dealt wif --" he paused, wasn't going to say it. Errol was very aware of the secret they were both hiding now, what it did to people. But he was curious about the way the wolf was acting, curious to know if it was because Ratigan was another wolf or because they somehow knew. "I figure ye ain't gonna say anyfin', ain't gonna 'elp, an' I ain't askin'. Jus' that. No details, I don't wanna know how it 'appened or why or where, jus' that." 

Errol could say more, could mention wolfsbane or ask about shifts, but he knew no answers would come. Yet, this asking, it was easier, somehow. It wasn't curiosity (though it almost certainly was, he'd already shown more than enough of his hand, but that had been a calculated risk). His body language was calm, nothing defensive about it, all of himself open, head tilting to show neck, even, but a stare that was unwavering. 

RATIGAN: 

Curiosity it was then. 

Well, wasn’t that rather disappointing? Unsurprising, but with the display he had given so far Ratigan had thought that maybe— but no. He was just like all the rest.

And just like all the rest, he was going to try to appeal to what humanity he may have thought was within Ratigan. Perhaps he thought this because he had seen Ratigan as the university professor and the volunteer theater director and the everyday, normal citizen who lived in Swynlake. That was only a part that he played, the cover he had been giving the most time to. (There were countless others, but this was the one he lived most every day dedicated to.) Whoever the sheriff deemed to like was not real, only a costume he wore to fit in among the rest of them. He wanted to speak to him as if he was still that man, he could see it in his body language, showing Ratigan his vulnerability in the hopes he would be rewarded with the same.

The problem with this approach was that Ratigan did not have any humanity left to communicate with. There was no empathy or sympathy or emotion that could be tugged upon to be given any sort of opening. All of that had been purged from his person until he had become what the family had needed him to be. A weapon— unperfect but efficient. His brain, built to learn quickly and at the whole, had taken this in after it had been taught what would happen should it disobey and there the lessons had stayed through the years as it had led to his survival thus far.

Everyone always wanted something, and this man thought he was owed the answer to a personal question. Simple as it was, as easy as Ratigan could have lied, he didn’t want to put in the effort of it. As much as this man may have been truthful in his word to keep from asking any more questions Ratigan knew better. If he was curious enough to ask this question, one that had an inherent selfish wish behind it, then an answer may embolden him to ask another, may lead him to believe that Ratigan wanted to converse. He did not. He did not want this man to know anything about himself that could potentially help him in the future nor did he care to hear about whatever it was the sheriff wanted to say. People had a tendency to spit out the things they wanted people to listen to instead of what Ratigan wanted to hear. It was easier to find that information elsewhere so that he did not have to endure the torture of conversation.

“That is worth nothing to me.” He didn’t care for favors or pity or the like and that is what that seemed the sheriff was presenting, acting as if Ratigan should be so flattered at a gift like that. He didn’t need it. Even if the sheriff had been feeding information neither Ratigan or the network needed the help of someone like him. “And you would be correct. I promised you your life and you have it. You can expect nothing more from me— you may consider it a birthday gift.” 

He lifted his cup of tea to his mouth to drain the remainder of it. The ceramic touched back down against the table top before he pushed his chair back from the table, turning in it as he prepared to stand. “Thank you for wasting my time, sheriff, as always.”

Ratigan smiled and did stand then, buttoning his suit’s jacket. Before he left he reached over to pick his pen back up but left the newspaper behind, the crossword finished. True to his word, he offered nothing more to the sheriff and left the cafe. There was still work to be done. 

[hngrylikethewoolf]

@professorofcrimeratigan

Ratigan was sometimes very taxing, but Errol wasn't going to say that aloud, and certainly not here, where any manner of people could see. No, the only way you'd be able to notice any discomfort at all from the mam was if he'd said it. Otherwise, he looked as -- what was the expression? Oh, yes! As cool as a cucumber, whatever that meant.

Eyes flickering over to Ratigan's face when he heard the change in his voice, Errol did not stop the grin that lifted the corner of his mouth from showing his teeth in a real, albeit partial, grin. This was meant to be an easy conversation, after all, a routine check that had been done for Ratigan's own health and safety.

Errol had tried to give the other man an out, tried to make him play along, and he hadn't. This entire, tedious thing had Ratigan's doing. Errol would have thought he'd have done it on purpose, if he didn't know just how much the man hated being around people, especially Errol himself. The masses were beneath him. There were only so many social niceties that could be withstood, after.

This was why one of the sheriff's brows climbed higher, briefly, surprise coloring his eyes for a split second. He knew why Ratigan was asking, but he hadn't thought he would, almost half expected him to leave the place entirely. But, at the back of his mind, Errol remembered the heaving of the other wolf's sides in such a small place and wondered if it extended to the man, too.

"Yer welcome. Ah, ye can come. S'pose it won't 'urt. Gives a reason tah see ye walkin' an' talkin'."

Bumper Cars || Errol + Ratigan

hngrylikethewoolf​:

@professorofcrimeratigan

The corner of Errol’s lip curled upward, as though he were responding to the other man’s attempt at laughter. It didn’t reach his eyes, nor was it amused, but anyone looking at them would see it and think so. He didn’t know Ratigan, not really. Certainly not enough to say that they shared any sense of comraderie.

They were both something someone else hated, though, and that was as scant a reminder as Errol needed.

“Well, luck seems tah’ve been on yer side, fortunate fer yah,” he said, voice pitched so it wouldn’t carry between them to the other emergency service workers milling around.

The happier lilt to Ratigan’s laugh made a brow twitch toward his hairline, hitching the corner of his mouth further by a fraction. It made sense that Ratigan could act so well, but sometimes it was surprising. But only for a moment. His eyes tracked the flippant movement of Ratigan’s hand for a moment before tracking back to his face.

“Right so no injuries. Good tah know.” He thought that was a loud of shite, but he wasn’t about to say that out in broad daylight. “Bad posture can be fixed, though, so I dunna fink ye’ve got anyfin’ tah worry about. Lemme see if I can grab some papers tah discharge ye from t’ otharcharr. Ah - ambulance.”

There was something satisfying about watching the sheriff having to play while backed into a corner— thought Ratigan would not have guessed that he would have been smart enough to realize that he needed to instead of blathering on about things he didn’t understand in front of people who would surely pass that information along to the local gossip ring. He was not impressed by any means as that was the bare minimum to be expected. (Even children could keep secrets.) 

“Yes— it must have been luck.” He repeated this from before but smiled this time, like this was something funny and yet comforting to hear. As if he were one of those people who really believed that things like that existed in the world and it had chosen to shine upon him for the time being. 

“Thank you very much, sheriff, I appreciate your help immensly.” Finally. That was all he had to do when he arrived. None of this other, time wasting, nonsense. No one would have been any wiser had he forgone this portion— Ratigan had said he was fine and the sheriff knew why. Instead of making a big to-do over it he could have acted like anyone else with a badge and gotten everything cleaned up as soon as possible, out of the public eye. 

“Should I wait here? Or follow?” 

[vinidra]

ależ się nie mogę doczekać blu-rayów tour16-17 from depression to _______ [mode of macabre] i tour16-17 from depression to _______ [mode of withering to death.]!

[tar-one]

Bars at the Bar 01

Images de Gaetan Lino et François Goblet, Montage et Mix de Gaetan Lino, merci à eux.

 Plus de 20 ans de Rap. Jamais tu ne m’as entendu lâcher un truc wack. Jamais de truc de vendu. Jamais de compromission. Jamais de pompage. Jamais de glorification de trucs pourris. Jamais de tentatives foireuses d’être dans la tendance du moment. Jamais d’exigence au rabais. De la légèreté mais jamais de facilité. Jamais de démagogie. Enfin, peut-être bien que si, de la naïveté plutôt que de la démagogie d’ailleurs, mais toujours avec sincérité. Jamais de rôles, de bluff, de supercherie. Mon Rap c’est moi, à prendre ou à laisser même si plus souvent laissé que pris !

Se casser la tête pour dire des choses, pour soigner la plume, pour varier les techniques, pour être versatile, pour multiplier les références et les bons mots, pour jongler entre réflexions sur le monde qui m’entoure, introspection, punchlines et autres shiznits qui selon moi valent la peine d’être écrits.  Mettre ces écrits en flows, faire de ces flows de la musique. Ma musique. Tellement d’amour que je mets dedans…

Alors que je semble en passe de sombrer pour de bon aux oubliettes au vu de mes misérables stats, que ces couplets de 96 à aujourd’hui sont oubliés ou carrément méconnus et alors que je reste fier d’eux, je me suis dit qu’ils méritaient d’être reposés pour être accessibles aux quelques supporters et curieux que ça pourrait intéresser. Alors sers toi un verre du breuvage de ton choix et rejoins moi au bar pour savourer mes bars… Peace.  

  Mata Hari – 2005

Couplet fétiche pendant quelques temps, souvent lâché à la radio ou autres sessions freestyles. Ne s’est jamais retrouvé sur un morceau.  

Trop vendent leur cul mais sans la classe de Mata Hari

J’arrive, direct t’es dépassé comme un Atari

Atterris même si face au réel t’es atterré

4 lignes, c’est fait : celui qui critique, je l’ai enterré

Classe-moi dans les classiques, c’est pas des salamalèques

Sectionne les syllabes, rimes plus bonnes que Salma Hayek

Trop de tech, de textes authentiques

Dans ta discothèque à côté d’Illmatic

Légende sur rythmiques, flow mathématique

À la base qu’un petit mec, plus tard figure emblématique

Les galères j’en ai plein le cul, de sales histoires je connais plein de cas

Causées  par plein de cons, l’orgueil fait gonfler plein de cous

Pour des couilles des crews veulent être plus violents qu’Al Qaeda

Caïds à 2 balles, les révoltes sans cause valent pas le coup

On serait mieux dans le même camp, genre parés à l’attaque

Que ce soit pour un monde meilleur qu’on prenne des coups de matraque

Comme si le progrès devait s’arrêter, je refuse que des cupides, perfides

Permettent qu’on meure le ventre vide

Comme les cerveaux, peu de savoir, plein de programmes stupides

Bipèdes abrutis, emportés par les rapides

D’un monde qui bouge trop vite mais dans de mauvaises directions

Consciences annihilées par le manque de réflexion

Je porte l’estocade contre tout ce qui m’estomaque

J’ai ce qui te manque : du Rap aux lyrics qui te marquent !

J’viens fasciner - 2009

Egotrip bien gras originellement posé en featuring avec Aral et Sauzé pour le morceau Like Ike Beat Tina sur leur projet éponyme de 2009 toujours dispo ici : https://aral-sauze.bandcamp.com/album/eponyme-2009

J’viens fasciner la face du monde comme un jeune Huey Newton

Je te déboulonne et tu t’enfonces comme Whitney Houston

Quand je rime ya de l’action pire que dans une grosse prod hollywoodienne

Flow prestige, prisé comme les ressources saoudiennes

Ça vous gêne ? Comme être dans un bus rempli de sauvageons

Savourez plutôt, sur la bonne voie nous nous engageons

Dégage ! Tu simules, c’est voyant comme les bijoux de Ghostface

Personne veut être ton ami, même Tom sur MySpace

Aral, Sauzé, Tar One arrachent le graal avec l’aval

De ceux qui savent, envoyant des salves à ceux qui avalent

Suivant Machiavel, me joue de ces mecs cons comme Averel

Tas de brelles ! Faites plutôt des feux de camps et reprenez Cabrel !

Prêt à aller jusqu’au bout comme la BLA

Mon micro une très belle arme pour troubler la fête, signer la défaite des bellâtres

Repousser les lâches, les boulets, les nazes, écoutez ces phases

Dégoûter les as des couplets pourraves !

Ouais te prends pas pour Rakim après 2 sales rimes

T’es pas l’King, ton crew c’est pas la bande du Bada Bing

Fais pas le malabar, t’es bien trop malhabile

Ça y est je pars à l’aise, ce couplet te paralyse !

J’crache - 2002

« J’crache » était un morceau de mon groupe Dope Skwad qui a dû se retrouver ça ou là (je me souviens de l’avoir enregistré sur un beat de Aral ) mais jamais sur un projet officiel. Interprété pas mal de fois sur scène. Je me souviens toujours très bien de ce moment passé avec ce gars en perm’ juste avant qu’il ne regagne la prison de Verviers. J’espère qu’il va bien et s’en est sorti.

Pour le moment dans ma vie, c’est tous les jours le week-end

Voir des potes permet un peu d’oublier les peines, les haines

Que ce monde amène, ils voudraient que tu acceptes et dise Amen

À longueur de semaines, traîne mes semelles mais amène

Un truc de plus dans le Rap, mon domaine, ce pourquoi je  me démène

Paie pas de mine man, mais il ne faut pas que tu la ramènes

Me regarde pas comme un Alien, je me bats à en perdre haleine

Plaide au Mic pour tous les gens qu’on aliène

On a créé des frontières, règles, administrations

Administrés comme unique ration

La communication : une vaste contrefaçon

Combien sont effacés et combien vivent pour leur passion

L’autre jour j’ai parlé avec un gars qui était en permission

Ce monde pernicieux l’avait fait mordre à l’hameçon

Vie noyée dans le vice pourtant son cœur était bon

Il allait bien…tôt sortir, mon Dieu faites qu’il tienne bon

Une dédicace pour les oubliés et les âmes perdues

Dont ce monde a fait quelque chose qu’ils n’avaient pas voulu

Tant de vies volées, la face faut pas se la voiler

Je ferai ce que je veux de ma vie même si tu as du mal à avaler

J’ai des valeurs, des pentes je sais que je vais en dévaler

Je ne serai pas un valet, ma fierté j’veux pas la ravaler…

Non, non, non, non, non, non, j’veux pas la ravaler !

R.

J’crache mon rap à bout portant

J’vais vers ce que j’estime important

Même si dans la vie, parfois impotent

Au Mic je pète, impétueux et épatant (x2)

Retrouve mes trucs passés et présents ici :

tar-one.tumblr.com/ (NEW shit)

dopeadn.tumblr.com/tagged/tar-one (Archives)

losermagnifique.tumblr.com/ (Mixtape gratuite 27 tracks, dope shit only)

taroneledopeemcee.tumblr.com/ (HH/musique US-Fr-B-UK et autres trucs divers que je kiffe)

www.instagram.com/thomastarone/ (selfies de pute, matérialisme-fétichisme de geek et pics de wannabe photographe)

tontoncause.tumblr.com/ (articles, billets d'humeur, saintes paroles etc)

et www.facebook.com/taronedope (réseau social aussi relou qu'incontournable)

[kurumeki]

Dir en grey's Withering to Death (since it's maybe my fav)

Send me an album and I’ll rate the tracks from fave to least fave.

Thank you! 

Dir en grey / Withering to death

鼓動 / Kodou (Heartbeat)

Merciless Cult

Jesus Christ R’n R

Machiavellism 

朔-saku- (New Moon)

悲劇は目蓋を下ろした優しき鬱 / Higeki wa mabuta o oroshita yasashiki utsu (Tragedy Is the Sweet Melancholy That Lowers Your Eyelids)

孤独に死す、故に孤独。/ Kodoku ni shisu, yue ni kodoku. (I Die In Loneliness, Therefore I Am Lonely.)

C

dead tree

Garbage

Spilled Milk

Beautful Dirt

愛しさは腐敗につき / Itoshisa wa fuhai ni tsuki (With Love Comes Decay)

THE FINAL

[kyotakumrau]

2017.10.13 Zepp Tokyo -the additional show- setlist and report 00 SE video (the guy with a shovel) 01 Merciless Cult 02 朔-saku- - 03 Machiavelism 04 愛しさは腐敗につき 05 悲劇は目蓋を下ろした優しき鬱 -inward scream- 06 禍夜想 07 孤独に死す、故に孤独 08 dead tree - 09 鼓動 10 Spilled Milk 11 Beautiful Dirt 12 Revelation of Mankind 13 The inferno 14 THE FINAL - ENCORE: GDS en15 GARBAGE en16 C en17 Jesus Christ R'n R en18 Sustain the Untruth en19 詩踏み - ENCORE2 en20 Un deux I had a very late number today, but it really does not matter so much for standing shows. I managed to get in front of the first barrier with a crowd push and get to the middle. When waiting for that push I could admire all of the cameras they prepared for today, including two cranes on the sides ;) There was a push, but it was nothing like Shinkiba, which means I'm quite tired now but don't have to wonder if all my ribs are okay. Kyo chose the tailcoat outfit today with his pink hair sleek (it didn't stay like that for long though). The energy was amazing, especially as the band started with faster songs. There was already a lot of singing from fans. And during the first short break we definitely didn't stay quiet ;) Machiavelism picked up and continued this energy, the rapport between band members and fans by this point was simply incredible! Kyo had so much energy and was already visiting the sides of the stage. Kyo's tailcoat was lost somewhere here i think. But after that that energy had to transform as the setlist entered its quieter part. Higeki's lyrics were slightly changed with an extra part added in the end. 名前の無い君は ?????, it was so sad, Kyo's voice broke on this part with emotions. Kodoku was so... it really was one of the more powerful songs during this tour, even more so tonight. Kyo wanted so much from us, to sing, to cheer for him, he kept looking at various fans in the audience and asked us to scream and sing more and more. 違うと願うのは後ろ向きの唯一の救いであり! Kyo entered very specific place with Kodoku, which included adding the (fake) blood from his mouth that stained his face and shirt red. Because of this Kyo missed a part of lyrics, but the audience sang it for him. The last part of the main part was again faster, I think Kyo got us to sing some parts for every song. When The inferno finished Kyo stayed in the dark with his hand up. We joined him and THE FINAL started. Kyo stayed for so long after the main part ended, just listening to us screaming for him. His face 😭♡ Encore was simply glorious, energy, some more energy and then even more energy!!!❤ All members just kept traveling on the stage and looking at fans, like they wanted to remember as many faces as possible. Shinya, Kaoru and Die were wearing the Teruteru shirts for encore. Die and Kaoru customized them, cutting the sleeves off. For the second encore Die wore Hiroshima's team no79 Ogata shirt and cap. Toshiya had a black sleevless shirt with a collar. Kyo had the leopard print long shirt-coat thing and a black The Addicts t-shirt. Jesus Christ R'n R probably had more parts sang by fans than by Kyo 😁And it brought him a lot of joy!!  He went to the edge of each side, he stayed on both sides of the box, just to keep seeing and hearing more and more fans giving their 100%. After that there was time to encourage the crowd a bit more with 'Are you still there? You haven't died yet, right? You can give me more, right?' And he asked us to sing so much from Sustain as well. I REALLY can't wait to see how it will look like on DVD!! After the first encore Kyo threw one bottle, waved to us and left with a smile (which was strange because it was waaaaaay too fast, so something was up, like a possibility of the second encore 😉). Shinya used the 25000 bag from the tour merchandise to carry things to throw for fans. He kept checking inside if there's more left again and again. He threw many deco tapes and some spinners, his drumsticks. At last when he checked for more things the bag was empty and we thought he will wave and leave. But. He kept his Osaka-expressionless-face-when-doing-something-amusing® and threw the bag 😁 Toshiya threw his usual things after spraying fans with water. I think at the end of the first or second encore he let fans touch his bass too? When he got on the box to throw his towel, he stayed a bit longer to look at us and it seemed like he was going to jump up or something. But he freakin backflipped. 😲 Backflipped. I don't think he landed that properly, as he dissappeared behind the box for a short time, but he was back up and very smiley very soon. When everyone left after the encore the audience started shouting for encore again despite the usual announcement 'the show is over, thank you for comming'. AND THEY CAME BACK💓 Kyo: 'うるせえなあ~！！/You're soooo noisy!😆 Let us hear you!!!!' Un deux was so wonderful for that extra encore!!! I wrote before how great it can become when fans join in to sing most of the song. Tonight was one of those times. After throwing even more picks and water bottles, when other band members left (I loved it when Kyo was looking for things to throw and there simply were no more picks, but he spotted the last forgotten pick on Kaoru's stand, hidden close the mic and he triumphantly grabbed it and tossed to fans), Kyo picled up his mic again and said: 'Ah... for some time there might be no plans, I don't know, but... (fans react with a 'whaaaaat 😵') I really like you all'. (fans react with an 'omg 😍') And he threw the water bucketS at us. He prepared well and matching his affection, he had TWO very FULL Water Buckets 🌊 Thank you for the water love💙

[khisquared]

Lectures achevées en 2020 + en cours

• L’amant de la Chine du Nord - M. Duras

• La peste - A. Camus

• Dimanche fatal aux Glières - R. Amoudruz et Jean-Claude Carrier

• Génération Y - M. Dagnaud

• Le Prince - Machiavel

• L’univers à portée de main - C. Galfard

• Apologie de Socrate / Criton - Platon

• Fondements de la comptabilité - B. Colasse

• 12 règles pour une vie - J. Peterson

[spacedude6599]

Neowise in Stratford, Canada [oc] via /r/spaceporn. Picture posted by /u/Machiavel.

[descodesetmoi-blog]

Du  Jambon à toutes les tables...même en France ! ( E. Guiot)

Le propre des intermittents de la démocratie est de ne soutenir celle-ci que quand elle permet à leur opinion de l’emporter

Ce 14 février, la 16ème chambre correctionnelle de Paris a donc acquitté Jawad Bendaoud qui était prévenu d’avoir mis à la disposition des auteurs de l’attentat de Paris du 13 novembre 2015 un squat où ils s’étaient repliés.

Quelques minutes après le jugement, plusieurs élus français d’extrême droite ont exprimé, sur les réseaux sociaux, leur colère face à cette décision de justice (qui condamne lourdement par ailleurs des complices de ces terroristes).

Impossible évidemment de ne pas établir un lien entre ces réactions françaises et les récentes déclarations de notre Ministre de l’Intérieur qui, en réaction à la plaidoirie de l’avocat de S. Abdeslsam  qui a sollicité l’acquittement de son client en invoquant un vice de procédure, avait fustigé le plaideur en faisant valoir que : «Un avocat est là pour faire en sorte qu'une personne reçoive une peine correcte”(sic).

Bien sûr, notre Ministre de l’Int��rieur n’ignorait pas, au moment de prononcer ces mots, que la vérité première est que l’avocat n’est pas là pour défendre un homme mais bien pour défendre les droits fondamentaux dont un Etat (dont il est ici un ministre) pare chaque individu qui est soumis à ses lois. Comme l’enseigne le philosophe R. ENTHOVEN, pour qu’un droit devienne une liberté, il faut en effet encore le conquérir après l’avoir obtenu.

Le respect des règles de procédure, en ce qu’il constitue la plus efficace protection de ces droits, fait évidemment partie des éléments auxquels un juge doit être rendu prioritairement attentif.

Mais, on le sait, à l’heure de la « post-vérité », la vérité n’est plus qu’une opinion de sorte qu’elle est invitée à se soumettre aux souhaits de l’émetteur sous peine d’être répudiée comme un animal trop vieux et devenu inutile qu’on conduit à l’abattoir.

Quand Jambon déclare que le rôle de l’avocat est de ne surtout pas gêner la ronde sécuritaire dont il est un des plus fervents thuriféraires, il sait qu’il est à côté de la vérité. Cela lui importe cependant fort peu car son but est de montrer qu’il a une opinion et que, surtout, cette opinion est conforme à celle (qu’il connait fort bien) de ses partisans.

Cette opinion ne tend pas révéler une vérité, elle mendie simplement des suffrages : « Voyez chers électeurs comme nous partageons les mêmes idées, combien je suis donc proche de vous, combien je suis digne d’être votre porte-parole, votre représentant sur les plus hautes matches du pouvoir. »

En ce qu’elle cherche à surfer sur l’émotion populaire, l’extrême droite ne se démarque pas encore des autres acteurs politiques.

Observons en effet qu’en des termes moins lapidaires, cette relaxe de Bendaoud a également fait réagir chez Les Républicains. La numéro 2 du parti de droite, Virginie Calmels, a dénoncé sur Twitter "une décision incompréhensible". "La fermeté face aux complices des terroristes, ce n'est apparemment pas pour maintenant", a tweeté la députée LR des Bouches-des-Rhône Valérie Boyer.

Là où la position de Jan Jambon va plus loin et devient extrêmement dérangeante pour la démocratie, c’est qu’elle est portée par un homme qui exerce un pouvoir (policier) important au sein de l’Etat et que, s’appuyant sur une émotion populaire, elle porte en elle une attaque frontale contre les principes de l’état de droit.

Au chapitre IX du « Prince », Machiavel recommande vivement au souverain de s’appuyer sur le peuple pour conserver le pouvoir, et de fuir comme la peste ceux qu’il appelle les «  grands » (c’est-à-dire notamment ceux qui sont l’équivalents des corps intermédiaires d’aujourd’hui : institutions publiques autonomes, avocats, journaux, partis, associations…).

Machiavel enseigne ainsi que le prince qui est entouré de « grands » est cerné par des hommes qui se croient ses égaux et l’empêchent d’agir comme bon lui semble, alors que le prince qui a fait le grand vide autour de lui « se trouve seule de son rang et n’a personne qui ne soit disposé à lui obéir.»

Ainsi, le pouvoir, vu par celui qui l’exerce, est toujours entravé par les puissants.

Machiavel démontre, et les populistes actuels ne font qu’appliquer sa théorie, que le candidat qui s’autoproclame «candidat du peuple » (sous-entendu contre les élites et les bureaucrates) et qui dénonce les « puissants » se sert en réalité du peuple pour éliminer le seul contre-pouvoir qui l’embarrasse vraiment.

Le rêve du candidat du peuple, c’est toujours… le pouvoir absolu (Raphaël Enthoven,« Morales provisoires », éditions de l’Observatoire, 2018) et les pouvoirs intermédiaires sont évidemment des entraves importantes à l’avènement de ce pouvoir absolu.

L’opinion exprimée par Jan Jambon sur le rôle de l'avocat est donc une épiphanie.

  Etienne GUIOT

[abandonhope-sp]

Setlist Zepp Nagoya 16.09

Higeki wa mabuta wo oroshita yasashiki utsu Merciless cult Garbage Machiavellism Hitoshisa wa fuhai nitsuki Kaishun Magayasou Kodoku Kodoku ni shisu, yueni kodoku Dead tree Uroko Jesus christ R’N R Beautiful dirt Spilled milk The final

Encore: GDS Saku C Kodou Un deux Utafumi

[evilkaito]

alright lets get this out of the way bc i keep getting the same messages over and over.

i am NOT linking to childporn. if you wanna verify it that bad, log onto pixiv with r-18 nsfw ENABLED. you will find it there.

i do not care that kikuo made that child porn manga to show how you shouldn't abuse children. drawing images of children masturbating or being sexually assaulted is not the work of an "ally". he has no defense. child porn is child porn and you cant draw it and defend it. ever.

maretu posted the long apology, and then delted it like a coward. i cannot find the archived version. me, and other japanese speakers can attest to seeing it, and him admitting to taking advantage of an underage (in his country) mentally incompetent girl who he himself said could "probably not consent". i saw this, and so have others. if word of mouth isnt enough, keep looking. im trying my best to find it.

there were no mistranslations of maretu's words. i would know this, as i read both the original and the translation. it was eng fans attempting to save face and their precious abusive producer by saying a translation was bad when it wasnt.

info about kairiki bear is EASILY available, you can look up any of his albums in google. the album in question is "Lolita Machiavellism"

if you're going to continue listening to them, dont post about it. dont even say youre going to. just take this and move on. you dont need to perform for everyone on my post. you don't need to reply saying "ill listen critically". i dont care if you keep listening if you dont financially support them and you ALSO dont support them with spreading their music around or discussing it. you should question why you listen, but i know a lot of you wont. so at least do this???? care about abuse victims and victims of pedophilia.

dont add lesser producer drama onto my post. this isnt the time to talk about producers ripping people off or being general jerks. this is about systemic oppression, homophobia, abuse, and pedophilia. i do not want to see that being compared to petty things.

this is not a post to "cancel." this is a post to inform and educate. if you cant take being told your faves are shit, block me. move on.

if you’re not into vocaloid, please just pay attention to these three producers

maretu

kikuo

kairiki bear

all three of them are awful, terrible producers, and if you have followers who stan them, block them. maretu is a predator who preyed on a mentally disabled girl. kikuo has drawn gore child pornography on his pixiv and has sold said pictures for money before. kairiki bear has written an entire concept album about lolicon and pedophilia, which try to make the subject into something cutesy and fun.

please. even if you don’t give a single FUCK about vocaloid, don’t trust people who like those producers.