#sabatini is right there

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Alex Kaplan at MMFA:

A group of far-right media figures has announced the formation of a militia group that is dedicated to “mobiliz[ing] to DEFEND this Republic from any enemy.” The newly formed group includes Rumble streamers Pete Santilli and Stew Peters, who have both called for political opponents to be killed. The militia has established several social media accounts with the apparent aim of recruiting members, including an account on Instagram. On June 3, podcaster and alleged January 6 participant Jake Lang announced a “NATIONAL CONSTITUTIONAL MILITIA” called the “North American Patriot and Liberty Militia,” or “NAPALM” for short. Lang claimed that NAPALM was “organized and ready to mobilize to DEFEND this Republic from any enemy. Forgien or Domestic.” Lang — who wrote that he would serve as “national chairman” of the militia group — “faces multiple charges of assaulting law enforcement officers” and has been held in jail ahead of his September trial for his alleged crimes and what a judge called “a continued willingness to engage in violence.” The militia’s site, which was linked in the announcement post, claims that the militia already has “over 20,000+ members across all 50 states,” including “active Sheriffs, military, veterans, emergency responders, doctors, farmers, entrepreneurs, and blue collar Americans.” [...] To promote and recruit for the militia, the group established public, state-specific Telegram groups for people to join and then be vetted for more private chats. The militia urges people to “make your Telegram account anonymous before joining,” and a message in the public groups details next steps “to get you placed in your Vetted County Militia chat where you can message back and forth with other members & the Leadership.”

A group of far-right social media influencers such as Couy Griffin and Stew Peters are recruiting to form a new right-wing extremist militia called North American Patriot and Liberty Militia (NAPALM).

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |I| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.6k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 1: The Death of the Red Tail

“I dare say that we are all savages under the cloak that civilization fashions for us."

- Rafael Sabatini, Captain Blood

You were startled awake, once more, by the sound of the metal scraping over the wooden planks. Again, the harsh noise pricked at your ears. Over the past few days, you had done your best to get used to all the loud noises aboard. Still, they tended to occur at the most random of times, usually when you had finally managed to fall asleep, pulling you right back to reality, which, ironically, was your nightmare. 

‘Didn’t mean to wake you up, Princess,’ the man chuckled, to which you did not respond. You never responded to what he, or any of them, had to say. Instead, you barely acknowledged him as he passed your jug of water between the steel bars. The roughness of his movements made the already meek amount spill out. ‘Breakfast’s served.’ 

It was dark below deck, with the only light coming through the small windows atop the walls, letting sun rays hit the ground at your feet in a circle. It was just enough of a light source for you to see what you were surrounded with. Barrels and crates filled with Gods know what. Next to you was a thin fleece that was supposed to keep you warm through the night but barely ever sufficed at its job. 

After the jug of water, he threw you your breakfast: a piece of stale bread and a severely bruised apple. The bread fell into your lap, but you managed to catch the fruit quite easily, which you then also put down in your lap, looking down at your old dirty dress, not saying a word. Miserably, you toyed with the slice of bread, the lack of appetite weirdly not corresponding to your hunger. The food was far from edible, but it was also the only thing that came close to it, so it would make due. You had taught yourself to fight through the dryness and tastelessness.

‘A thank you would be nice, Princess,’ he snarled, but you didn’t even look up at his comment. Ever since you had been brought down there, you had made it your goal to exchange as few words as possible with these men, even when they started rattling the bars around, trying to catch your attention. Even when they slammed their hands on it, making you jump. But, finally, after a third slam, you snapped.

‘You gone deaf, too, now?’ he spoke louder.

‘I would be more than happy to thank you if there was anything to be thankful for.’ You rolled your eyes. You had grabbed small opportunities to ask for more food and water, begging to be let out of the tiny cell to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and every time you were met with nothing. It was the definition of insanity, wasn’t it? To do the same thing expecting different results? But you weren’t expecting anything. You were hoping. Desperate that something would change one day, and the odds would turn in your favour. Just once. That was all you asked of the universe.

‘We could easily let you starve, so better shut it.’ He pointed at you sternly, but you knew it was a big bluff. And it angered you. A rage slowly cooking inside you rose to a boiling point. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘No, you shut it,’ as swiftly as you could manage on your weak legs, you got up and made your way over to the bars that separated you and the man. He backed away, clearly not having anticipated your sudden move, but he was too slow, and you still managed to snatch at his collar, pulling him back to you. Then, gritting your teeth, you spat your words into his face. ‘I have been stuck here for days, begging for the smallest amounts of decency from you, and so far, I have been laughed at in my face every. Single. Time. 

‘So, you can try and scare me with your empty threats, but I know you need me alive and well for you to get your gold. Dead, I am worth nothing. So, I doubt your captain would enjoy hearing that something happened to me on your watch.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ his eyes narrowed into tentative slits, as did yours. 

‘I don’t think you really want to wait and see if I do. Because I don’t know about you, but that rope over there looks like it would make a grand necklace. Do you think that beam up there could hold me up?’ you cocked your head up to a point at the ceiling. His eyes followed your movements and the rope hanging just arm’s length away from the holding cell. Suddenly, his throat tightened as he tried to swallow. 

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to get out of here,’ you said, gritting your teeth. You didn’t dare look away from his eyes, which were just as cold as you felt. You thought you might finally have cracked one of them for a second, but then he managed to pull himself out of your grip.  He kept muttering curse words directed at you as he climbed the stairs up the deck. ‘Remember, I have nothing to lose!’ you shouted out after him, one final attempt, just in time before he slammed the trapdoor behind him.

You sat back down. Heart beating against your ribs and a smile covering your lips for the first time in a long time. The adrenaline from the little stunt quickly deflated out of you, and you folded your legs into your chest.

It was stupid. It would only anger them more, and the last thing a person wants is to be stuck on a ship, in the middle of an ocean, with a crew of scoundrels. For people like them... the smallest of annoyances could cost you your life. No matter how much it was worth to them.

Biting into your apple, ignoring the slight sourness, you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, with closed eyes, you listened to the sea hitting the ship's side as it sailed on through them. If you sat there long enough, you could almost make yourself believe that you were not locked up in a small cell at the bottom of a rotting ship. That you were, in fact, in your own cabin on the Red Tail. Your father’s ship, sailing home.

You were not meant to be there. You had insisted on coming along, wanting to see something of the world, being exhausted of never going further beyond the outskirts of your city. You had been yearning for that space.

It had been a sunny day, with just enough wind blowing through the sails to progress the journey, only a little longer until you would reach your destination. The crew was happy, relieved to be so close to the end. As much as it was an honour to work under the Governor’s orders, to sail for weeks on end over the open sea was a dangerous and exhausting task. 

Everything suddenly changed when someone yelled it out. You weren’t even sure what they had said, but by the reactions from everyone around you, it was easy to guess. 

Pirates.

Before you could even ask to be sure, you were dragged back inside to the Captain’s quarters and told to hide. So, hide, you did. 

It took the ship a while to make contact. And all this time, you remained seated under the oak desk. It was the calm before the storm. You knew the canons would soon go off, and the ships would be punched with holes. The pirates would jump ship; they would attack and destroy. You could hear it all happening outside. The swords clinking, the guns going off, the wreckage, and the screams. It was all too much. 

The minutes between the canons were the worst. Your ears were still ringing, and all you could do was anticipate the subsequent explosion and the shaking of your whole world. And then they would go off, and you had to do your best to follow the orders you were given. Be still and be quiet. They would take care of it. Your safety was everyone’s priority. 

And yet, you felt shame wash over you at the idea that you were hiding while the men were out there, fighting. You felt useless and small, like a child. Cradling yourself to make your being as small as you could underneath that desk. The canons only seemed to be getting louder and louder. You couldn’t block the thundering and destruction on the other side of the door. 

Perhaps you had screamed. You couldn’t remember. Everything was a blur. But something must have given you away in the end. How could they have known you were aboard? In the captain’s quarters? Nothing else made sense, but they heard your panic. They could sense it, being the predators they were.

It took all of your inner power not to scream when the door to the quarters burst open. At first, you thought a cannonball must have just burst through the wall, but it was much worse. Pairs of boots slowly made their way towards you. You closed your eyes and tried to stay calm; in your mind, the words of your mother’s lullaby swept by. The same old song she used to sing you during dark and stormy nights. That was all this was… a storm… and it would soon pass…

‘Gotcha,’ the voice sounded acidic and vile. You opened your eyes to be met with a pair of stormy grey ones, so cold it made your blood freeze. He smiled at you with a toothy grin, which only made you crawl back under the desk. There was nowhere for you to go, and he knew that. So did his lanky friend as they both reached out for you and pulled you out from beneath the furniture. Your skirt hiked up as it grazed over the floor, and you did your best to keep it down and over your legs. 

‘No, please, no,’ you tried to sound as assertive as possible, ignoring your urges to scream and cry out. With little care, they pulled you up on your feet. Standing face to face with them almost should have taken away some of your fear, for you realised they could not be much older than you, perhaps even younger, but you still felt your legs shake. 

‘You gonna come with us?’ he wouldn’t stop smiling at you, which was unnerving. But, of course, only a truly evil person would find joy in such circumstances, a severely disturbed and corrupt individual. 

You took your shot, trying to wring your arms out of their hold. You thought you might have slipped out of one of their grips for a second, but then he pushed you forward, nearly making you fall as you stumbled over your feet. With each step they made you take, you tried to defy them, thrash around like a freshly caught fish, really, much to your own embarrassment. But it wasn’t doing any good. The net just tightened around you with each attempt at freedom. 

You had imagined what was happening in the rest of the ship, but the reality you were met with was even worse. The vessel was in shambles. The broken mast had fallen, and the sails were ripped to shreds. The clinking of swords was still coming from all angles. Some of the men noticed you, captured by the enemies and tried to reach you. Fighting off the scoundrels with their long swords, to no avail. The fight was not a fair match. The people you travelled with were mostly sailors, never having learned how to fight correctly. They were all going off of survival instincts. 

You heard your name being called to you from the side, and you could see the worried face of admiral Carver as he pushed his way through lines of enemies. You made another attempt to free yourself from the men's grips, pulling yourself toward the admiral, the man appointed to keep you safe throughout your journey… to think that mere days ago, you had both joked he was nearly futile in these endeavours. 

The chaos around you ensued as men fought, bled, and died. 

The blood was everywhere. 

It was all going too fast. The hold the cruel men held on you was too tight to attempt anything, and before you knew what was happening, you were being led across the plank connecting the two ships. 

A gunshot went off. One of the men holding on to you went limp, letting go of you. You didn’t dare to look, but you could tell by the shift of weight on the wooden bridge that there was one person less standing beside you. And indeed, a second later, a splash followed as his body hit the water beneath you. 

Not by choice, you turned around the thin piece of wood as the other man holding you looked over to where the gunshot came from. Carver stood at the foot of the plank. Gun barrel still smoking, pointing right at your aggressor. The admiral had an admirable shot, so you had no worries about his aim. But that shot never came. The two men on the opposite sides of the bridge locked eyes with intimidation coming off both of them in great amounts, but the trigger was never pulled. Before Carver could, you screamed in horror as tears stung your eyes. 

You were pulled the few final steps across the plank, almost pushed down to the ground, for you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your loyal admiral falling to the deck of his ship. His white shirt was stained red, and the staining only grew larger and larger. He had just enough time to look down at his bleeding chest before he fell to his knees. The sword stuck out from his back. 

‘No!’ your scream pierced through everyone’s ears as you tried to get out of your capturer’s hold and run back to your own ship, to your people, but it was too late. They had removed the wood that connected the vessels. You were stuck, and the Red Tail seemed significantly smaller. 

It was sinking.

It only took a few minutes before everyone and the viscous sea ate everything you knew. Days later, it was still painful to look out at the horizon, seeing the vastness of the waters. 

The seemingly neverending darkness that had swallowed those who fought for you, hoping to keep you safe. And for what… you were now stuck in this prison. Eating the damned apple. For the first few days, you tortured yourself by refusing their offers of food. A form of protest that no one seemed to be much impressed by. The myths of poor Persephone had come to your mind in those moments. Thinking how the goddess had been tricked by the evil Hades, all for a measly pit of a fruit. 

But your body screamed for nutrients, and you could not deprive yourself much more of your own life. To die at sea could be an honour for many, but not in a dark cell captured by the enemy. You had no intentions of dying because of your stubbornness, but you would never give in to what they wanted. If it came to be, you would pass on your own terms.

It was days now since the Red Tail sank. During your first moments on board, you had a naive hope that you had not been the only person taken. That somewhere around, someone else was here with you. A known face, a name you didn’t have to fear. The idea of the possibility brought you a little comfort, but soon you realised the harsh truth. You were entirely on your own here. But worse, even, was that you realised that, perhaps, death in battle and the fierce ocean waves would have been a kinder sentence than the horrors awaiting you aboard this vessel. 

It had all started in the moments the Red Tail was abandoned. You kept your eyes on its crow nest, reaching out from above the water like a desperate hand in need of a saviour. 

But you had no option but to dwell on the wreckage or the lost souls of your friends. Not when you were surrounded by dozens of men looking hungrily at you as if you were nothing but a piece of meat for them to devour. They were closing in on you; there was nowhere to go. Any direction you looked… 

Surrounded by wild men screaming and tugging at you from each side, pulling you from side to side like a rag doll. They all wanted a little fun, but playtime was cut short rather quickly by the simple sounds of boots tapping over the floorboards. Everyone looked up as his voice loomed over everybody:

‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ It sounded almost whimsical, bemused. Everyone froze as the captain approached his crew. Even you did, looking up as he walked down the quarterdeck towards the large helm. The floor creaked with each step. The chains and beads hanging around his neck and hair accompanied him in a chorus. Not another word needed to be shared.

He stood there, looking down at what was occurring beneath him. Fingers clad in silver and gold rings tapping away at the handles of the ship’s wheel. When you looked a few inches higher, you recognised that his eyes were directly on you. There was no hiding or denying it. He was staring deep into your eyes. The corner of his mouth tilted up in the slightest smirk. The position in which the two of you stood made you feel like you were some kind of act for him. An entertainment piece for him to enjoy in his own time despite you being surrounded by all his men. It felt perverse. Disgusting. You quickly turned away. 

But the image of those dark brown eyes stuck with you. Days later, and it still haunted you, the day you met Captain Eddie Munson.

The name was not much by itself. The stories that followed it brought fear onto people’s faces. For years now, you had overheard the people back home speaking tales of the notorious ocean bandit. The man who had sailed the seas with sails as dark as his eyes and soul.

You had never expected much from a man with a name like that, but you were quickly proven wrong. 

The respect he had gained over the crew was evident; you could see it just by how everyone had paved the way for their captain and his strides of confidence as he made his way down onto the deck. There was an energy that came from within him, this dangerous confidence. Maybe because of this, you felt like ignoring his eye contact would be a shot worth taking, something to crack that filthy grin on his face as he neared you. The crew had widened their circle to make space for their captain and you, but you took a step back at each he brought forward. Your attempt was quickly stopped by whoever pushed you again right into his chest. The captain grinned at the collision, almost politely, apologetically, but it made you sick to the stomach. 

He looked up from you to look at his men. 'Is anyone going to answer me?' his voice carried, making you flinch from your proximity to it, just like the canons. It was too loud. Your ears had almost stopped ringing from the explosions.

'Was hiding in the officer's quarters, she was.' Someone called out from behind Captain Munson, which must have interested him. To be a woman in the officer's quarters on a ship like yours… meant status. You could tell he looked at you intently but would not give him the satisfaction, and your eyes did not give him the time of day, instead focusing on the highest mast and the sail flickering softly in the wind. Not pitch black like the tales told, but a sunburned copper. Even despite this, you could feel his look on you. He was taking all of you in, grinning over his newest conquest. 

'And what was a pretty thing like her doing up there?' While his question was directed at everyone else but you, he dug his eyes deep into your soul. They were pulling you in, trance-like. A pair of irises darker than amber but just as warm and beautiful. A facade for a lie, as there was only cold and darkness beyond the warm hue, the cursed soul of a criminal. You had heard stories of men like him, but to find yourself in the midst of them, knowing it was more true than any other tale told at sea, to be held captive as if in an inescapable nightmare… 

Being oppressed into looking him in the eyes, you couldn't help but think how he, and his comrades, could have been perfectly fine young men in any other life. Maybe they even had been until the ocean took them, poisoned them with the cursed fruit of the sea. Corruption was so quickly and easily committed.

His hand, filthy, covered in tattoos and heavy rings, reached out for your cheek, which you quickly turned away from him as far as possible. You had hoped it would show him you weren't some fragile little girl, that you weren't just easy prey, but the laughter that erupted around you proved you wrong. He chuckled as his fingers found a new grip on your chin, turning your face back harshly, so you had no other option but to look him in the eye again.

‘Name, my darling,’ he smiled wickedly, squeezing your cheeks until you could feel the tips of his fingers against your teeth before letting your face go, ‘come, speak up, or that tongue will have to find a new use for itself.’ His words came out like a hiss of a snake.

'I am not your darling,' you spat once he had released you, to little effect as more laughter kindled from the men around you. You wondered how much time you would have from the shock value if you went on a rampage and started to kick all of them in their most sensitive parts. How many would you be able to get through before one of the others would grab you, possibly throw you overboard? 

The Captain kept on smiling. 'I must call you something if you do not care to share your name with us, my darling.' His erring grin burned your skin like a hot kettle fresh off the fire. 

'Carver called her something, Captain,' someone had shouted out, and Munson’s reaction was immediate when they repeated your name. His eyes widened, his grin spiked at the corners, showing his teeth, and his brown eyes glistened with enthusiasm. Then, jaggedly, as if remembering something suddenly, he moved his head around, looking around.

'Carver? Our dear friend Carver?' He looked around for whoever it had been that had spoken up a second ago, 'where is that pesky little–'

'Stabbed,' the crewmate responded, 'bled out on the ship,' a chorus of cackling surfaced among the men, but the captain looked a bit disappointed, hiding his amusement. Meanwhile, the mention of what you witnessed moments before stung you deep within.

'Shame. I would have liked to have seen that,' he said, with astonishing indifference covering his face, then he turned to you again, 'so, you were Carver's little toy, huh? I assure you, dear, you'll have much more fun here than with that stale little bilge rat.'

'I am nobody's toy.' You held back on shoving the man away or trying to act out of self-defence against any of his movements, knowing that upsetting him would not end in any better scenario than you were in at that given moment. 

'No, no,' he chuckled, pouting his lips in a manner of mocked sympathy, ‘A princess like you takes what she wants, don't you? We're similar in that way, I feel like— Where did you find her, Henderson, the officer's quarters, was it?' Perhaps the rest of his crew had been too slow to catch onto their captain's thoughts, but you could tell by the glint in his eye that he knew exactly who you were. 

'If you know who I am,' you tried your luck, pushing your voice out as steady and loud as possible to convict some confidence, 'then you must release me at once!' you tried to fight the situation. Still, there was very little you could do to gain a reaction out of this crowd that had not originated in humour. Some men asked around, still trying to catch up on what was happening. 

‘Now, why would I do that?’ The captain spoke directly to you, leaning in closer. So close you could smell the rum wafting off him. But he quickly leaned back to address his crew once more, answering all the inquiries in the crowd. 'This here, gents, is no one less than the Governor's daughter!'

It may have been silly of you to think that if they knew your status and position, they would find some newly gained respect for you. You would even find some small ounce of respect toward them as long as they would release you back to safety. But where would that even be… with your trusty ship now slowly greeting the bottom of the sea.

On the contrary, they had lost any image of you. From that moment on, you had become their most-priced possession. No plea would do good for it. It did not matter that mere minutes ago, you had seen them all make their way back, faces happy and arms full of treasures belonging to your family. What good were these riches when the real treasure stood tall in their centre? You were the one thing that would bring in the motherload they had been searching for for so long.  

The captain looked back at you. 'Do not worry; we shall release you straight back into your father's arms– for a reasonable price, that is,' he looked around at his men, who all once again erupted in a jolly sea of laughter, matching his much softer depiction of humour. 'But for now….' He dramatically removed his hat as his unbrushed locks grazed the floor at his bow. When he rose back up, his grin had spread to the widest corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with menacing mischief, freezing your core at the thought of what he could possibly be holding back in his mind. 'Welcome aboard the Hellfire.' 

The Hellfire. A crew that rampaged and torched anything that came in their way. Ships, harbours, cities, entire islands even… nothing stood a chance against the devils of the ocean… Devils, that’s what they were. Some truly believed they had all been cursed by something dark. Their lives had been given up to work for Satan as his harbingers of death and chaos. 

But you would only see a little of the ship or experience much more time with these men, as, not long after your introduction, you were dragged down below deck and locked behind the thick steel bars. The captain kept his eyes locked on you until you disappeared into the trapdoor. His smile never faded. And so, it was a dreadful sight to see that days– perhaps even months– later, the smile still persisted. 

How long precisely this nightmare had lasted, you were unsure. Or maybe you knew exactly. Would it have been better to lose count of the days and nights you had spent in this hell and think you might have lost your mind? Or to remember everything exactly how it had been, knowing what was and what would follow? For now, you were somewhere in between and unsure of what direction to go. A grey limbo where your body and mind were fighting themselves. Whether to give up or keep on battling your enemies. To forget would be to ease the pain, but it would also feel like losing the battle. Something you were not ready to do just yet. Though the memories still haunted your dreams. Was any of it worth it? That was the question that kept you up. 

And it was answered, more or less, when the trapdoor opened. Just as you were about to take your last bite of the apple. 

‘Will it be the rope then?’ you shouted as the footsteps came down to your level. Suddenly the apple felt much juicier, sweeter, and better than anything you had tasted in weeks. The odds would be in your favour, and you would get your way… even if it meant a measly ten minutes out in the cold sea air. 

‘Be my guest, princess.’ The voice immediately made your stomach drop. The sweet taste of the fruit turned bitter, the bread even drier. You looked up in horror as Captain Munson appeared out of the shadows. He leaned against the thick bars that imprisoned you. Then, when no response came from you after a long moment, he asked, ‘what? Not so brave anymore, are we?’ The chuckle that followed was deep but genuine. He was enjoying everything about your fear and you; you could not let that stand. 

With shaky legs, you got up and took the two steps to your barricade. Facing the captain should have been terrifying, but you were using your stubbornness to push any fears aside for the time being. As confidently as possible, you clenched your fists around two of the bars, gritted your teeth, and demanded: ‘Let me out.’

‘Have your parents never taught you manners, my darling?’ He did not seem to be phased by your attitude. 

‘You dare speak of manners to me?’ You could not keep yourself composed. Heat was rising to your cheeks with anger. ‘You? The man that has kept me locked in a cage for days?’ Who knew where this confidence came from in front of the notorious pirate captain? If anyone had seen you act out like this as opposed to such a dangerous criminal as he was, they would assume you had a death wish, yet this was your attempt at survival.

He reached his hand out to brush it over your cheek, and unable to react quickly; you let him. It was as if his touch had a numbing power over you, freezing you in place. His skin was hot, assumably from staying out on the deck during the day, steering the ship whichever way you were going. But then his rings, a sobering cold. His voice was as smooth as the rum he burned it with. ‘Do you blame me for wanting to keep my treasure save?’ 

‘You are despicable.’ You hissed out, and suddenly his gentle touch roughened up. His fingers wound their way through your hair, and with a firm tug, he pulled you forward, nearly smashing your face against the bars. His voice was distorted with a growl as he warned you. 

‘You don’t even know the half of it, darling,’ you were so close to each other, only separated by the metal rods, you could feel his breath on you. There was that distinct smell of rum followed by… cinnamon. There was no way you could focus on that, however. Not when he pulled at your hair harder. ´If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have that pretty dress, no more. Let alone even have food to disgust over. Besides–’  He let go of your hair, pushing you back and you let go of the breath you had been holding in. ‘This attitude really does not suit you.’ 

As you let your lungs fill with a fresh breath, you watched the captain inhale slowly. He was composing himself. And when he looked back up at you, from a first glance, it looked as if he had pushed aside the part of him that had just grabbed you. All except for his eyes. They were still dark and filled with the devil’s fury.

‘So,’ he spoke calmly, ‘is there a reason why you threatened your life to my incompetent men for the– what is it– fifth time?’ You had a request, did you?’ Was he really giving you a chance? Trying to mimic his calm stature, you repeated your demand. 

‘Let me out.’ 

To this, he raised an eyebrow. Did you not learn anything from the interactions that just occurred between you?  Why, yes, you did, so you added one last determined word: ‘Now.’ 

Against all expectations, he laughed and reached for a set of keys that hung on the wall next to your jail. It must have been a well-thought-out joke because it had always been just out of your arm’s reach, no matter how you angled or stretched yourself out. Because you naturally had tried to reach for it across your first nights of capture when most of the crew was asleep– you didn’t want to be caught trying to escape. 

The captain took the key, it rattled on its large ring, and turned it in the lock. With a rusty croak, the barred door opened. He extended his arm invitingly, but you stood frozen in place. What was happening? 

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ He looked up at you, one arm hooked between the bar, the other nudging you to move with a wave. ‘Well, go on then. Be free.’ He knew exactly what he was doing, and you realised it at the sound of his last word. 

Despite your cage finally being open, unlike a bird, you could not fly away and truly escape this ghost of a ship. You had nowhere to go. For days, you had thought it would be alright if only you could get out of this jail. Reality hit much harder. It was much worse. Out in the middle of the vast sea, there was nowhere for you to go. The ship was your true prison. 

You remained in your spot, frozen. Finally, the captain nodded satisfactorily and removed the key from the lock but kept the door open.

‘I’ll be on my way now if you do not mind, darling’ He chuckled again. It had quickly become one of your most hated sounds in the world, ‘but do join us on deck if you ever feel like putting on another performance such as this. I would suggest something of the likes of Shakespeare, though– much less hysterics.’  

You wanted to scream at him, run up to him and hit him with every ounce of power in your body, but you couldn’t. He could easily overpower you, and God only knew what would happen. Keeping a distance was better. It was safe.

 From that point on, the jail door stayed open. With it, another realisation came to light.

That steel barred door, now swinging and creaky as the ship crossed the waters, had been the one thing that kept you safe. It had been a barrier between you and the wild men of the ship. 

Now, for whatever reason, they kept to themselves. Depending on who had drawn the short stick to bring you a meal, you only came into contact with one or two crewmates a day. There was no eye contact and no more conversation attempts. You had become like an animal they just tried to keep alive until you reached your destination or until boredom hit… and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or worse. 

Chapter 2

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[dailyanarchistposts]

G.3 Is “anarcho”-capitalism a new form of individualist anarchism?

No. As Carole Pateman once pointed out, ”[t]here has always been a strong radical individualist tradition in the USA. Its adherents have been divided between those who drew anarchist, egalitarian conclusions, and those who reduced political life to the capitalist economy writ large, to a series of exchanges between unequally situated individuals.” [The Problem of Political Obligation, p. 205] What right-“libertarians” and “anarcho”-capitalists do is to confuse these two traditions, ignoring fundamental aspects of individualist anarchism in order to do so. Thus anarchist Peter Sabatini:

“in those rare moments when [Murray] Rothbard (or any other [right-wing] Libertarian) does draw upon individualist anarchism, he is always highly selective about what he pulls out. Most of the doctrine’s core principles, being decidedly anti-Libertarianism, are conveniently ignored, and so what remains is shrill anti-statism conjoined to a vacuous freedom in hackneyed defence of capitalism. In sum, the ‘anarchy’ of Libertarianism reduces to a liberal fraud.” [Libertarianism: Bogus Anarchy]

As class struggle anarchist Benjamin Franks notes individualist anarchism “has similarities with, but is not identical to, anarcho-capitalism.” [Rebel Alliances, p. 44] For Colin Ward, while the “mainstream” of anarchist propaganda “has been anarchist-communism” there are “several traditions of individualist anarchism”, including that associated with Max Stirner and “a remarkable series of 19th-century American figures” who “differed from free-market liberals in their absolute mistrust of American capitalism, and in their emphasis on mutualism.” Ward was careful to note that by the “late 20th century the word ‘libertarian’ . .. was appropriated by a new group of American thinkers” and so “it is necessary to examine the modern individualist ‘libertarian’ response from the standpoint of the anarchist tradition.” It was found to be wanting, for while Rothbard was “the most aware of the actual anarchist tradition among the anarcho-capitalist apologists” he may have been “aware of a tradition, but he is singularly unaware of the old proverb that freedom for the pike means death for the minnow.” The individualist anarchists were “busy social inventors exploring the potential of autonomy.” The “American ‘libertarians’ of the 20th century are academics rather than social activists, and their inventiveness seems to be limited to providing an ideology for untrammelled market capitalism.” [Anarchism: A Short Introduction, pp. 2–3, p. 62, p. 67, and p. 69]

In this section we will sketch these differences between the genuine libertarian ideas of Individualist Anarchism and the bogus “anarchism” of right-“libertarian” ideology. This discussion builds upon our general critique of “anarcho”-capitalism we presented in section F. However, here we will concentrate on presenting individualist anarchist analysis of “anarcho”-capitalist positions rather than, as before, mostly social anarchist ones (although, of course, there are significant overlaps and similarities). In this way, we can show the fundamental differences between the two theories for while there are often great differences between specific individualist anarchist thinkers all share a vision of a free society distinctly at odds with the capitalism of their time as well as the “pure” system of economic textbooks and right-“libertarian” dreams (which, ironically, so often reflects the 19th century capitalism the individualist anarchists were fighting).

First it should be noted that some “anarcho”-capitalists shy away from the term, preferring such expressions as “market anarchist” or “individualist anarchist.” This suggests that there is some link between their ideology and that of Tucker and his comrades. However, the founder of “anarcho”-capitalism, Murray Rothbard, refused that label for, while “strongly tempted,” he could not do so because “Spooner and Tucker have in a sense pre-empted that name for their doctrine and that from that doctrine I have certain differences.” Somewhat incredibly Rothbard argued that on the whole politically “these differences are minor,” economically “the differences are substantial, and this means that my view of the consequences of putting our more of less common system into practice is very far from theirs.” [“The Spooner-Tucker Doctrine: An Economist’s View”, pp. 5–15, Journal of Libertarian Studies, vol. 20, no. 1, p. 7]

What an understatement! Individualist anarchists advocated an economic system in which there would have been very little inequality of wealth and so of power (and the accumulation of capital would have been minimal without profit, interest and rent). Removing this social and economic basis would result in substantially different political regimes. In other words, politics is not isolated from economics. As anarchist David Wieck put it, Rothbard “writes of society as though some part of it (government) can be extracted and replaced by another arrangement while other things go on before, and he constructs a system of police and judicial power without any consideration of the influence of historical and economic context.” [Anarchist Justice, p. 227]

Unsurprisingly, the political differences he highlights are significant, namely “the role of law and the jury system” and “the land question.” The former difference relates to the fact that the individualist anarchists “allow[ed] each individual free-market court, and more specifically, each free-market jury, totally free rein over judicial decision.” This horrified Rothbard. The reason is obvious, as it allows real people to judge the law as well as the facts, modifying the former as society changes and evolves. For Rothbard, the idea that ordinary people should have a say in the law is dismissed. Rather, “it would not be a very difficult task for Libertarian lawyers and jurists to arrive at a rational and objective code of libertarian legal principles and procedures.” [Op. Cit., pp. 7–8] Of course, the fact that “lawyers” and “jurists” may have a radically different idea of what is just than those subject to their laws is not raised by Rothbard, never mind answered. While Rothbard notes that juries may defend the people against the state, the notion that they may defend the people against the authority and power of the rich is not even raised. That is why the rich have tended to oppose juries as well as popular assemblies. Unsurprisingly, as we indicated in section F.6.1, Rothbard wanted laws to be made by judges, lawyers, jurists and other “libertarian” experts rather than jury judged and driven. In other words, to exclude the general population from any say in the law and how it changes. This hardly a “minor” difference! It is like a supporter of the state saying that it is a “minor” difference if you favour a dictatorship rather than a democratically elected government. As Tucker argued, “it is precisely in the tempering of the rigidity of enforcement that one of the chief excellences of Anarchism consists .. . under Anarchism all rules and laws will be little more than suggestions for the guidance of juries, and that all disputes … will be submitted to juries which will judge not only the facts but the law, the justice of the law, its applicability to the given circumstances, and the penalty or damage to be inflicted because of its infraction .. . under Anarchism the law … will be regarded as just in proportion to its flexibility, instead of now in proportion to its rigidity.” [The Individualist Anarchists, pp. 160–1] In others, the law will evolve to take into account changing social circumstances and, as a consequence, public opinion on specific events and rights. Tucker’s position is fundamentally democratic and evolutionary while Rothbard’s is autocratic and fossilised.

This is particularly the case if you are proposing an economic system which is based on inequalities of wealth, power and influence and the means of accumulating more. As we note in section G.3.3, one of individualist anarchists that remained pointed this out and opposed Rothbard’s arguments. As such, while Rothbard may have subscribed to a system of competing defence companies like Tucker, he expected them to operate in a substantially different legal system, enforcing different (capitalist) property rights and within a radically different socio-economic system. These differences are hardly “minor”. As such, to claim that “anarcho”-capitalism is simply individualist anarchism with “Austrian” economics shows an utter lack of understanding of what individualist anarchism stood and aimed for.

On the land question, Rothbard opposed the individualist position of “occupancy and use” as it “would automatically abolish all rent payments for land.” Which was precisely why the individualist anarchists advocated it! In a predominantly rural economy, as was the case during most of the 19th century in America, this would result in a significant levelling of income and social power as well as bolstering the bargaining position of non-land workers by reducing the numbers forced onto the labour market (which, as we note in section F.8.5, was the rationale for the state enforcing the land monopoly in the first place). He bemoans that landlords cannot charge rent on their “justly-acquired private property” without noticing that is begging the question as anarchists deny that this is “justly-acquired” land in the first place. Unsurprising, Rothbard considered “the proper theory of justice in landed property can be found in John Locke”, ignoring the awkward fact that the first self-proclaimed anarchist book was written precisely to refute that kind of theory and expose its anti-libertarian implications. His argument simply shows how far from anarchism his ideology is. For Rothbard, it goes without saying that the landlord’s “freedom of contract” tops the worker’s freedom to control their own work and live and, of course, their right to life. [Op. Cit., p. 8 and p. 9]

For anarchists, “the land is indispensable to our existence, consequently a common thing, consequently insusceptible of appropriation.” [Proudhon, What is Property?, p. 107] Tucker looked forward to a time when capitalist property rights in land were ended and “the Anarchistic view that occupancy and use should condition and limit landholding becomes the prevailing view.” This “does not simply mean the freeing of unoccupied land. It means the freeing of all land not occupied by the owner” and “tenants would not be forced to pay you rent, nor would you be allowed to seize their property. The Anarchic associations would look upon your tenants very much as they would look upon your guests.” [The Individualist Anarchists, p. 159, p. 155 and p. 162] The ramifications of this position on land use are significant. At its most basic, what counts as force and coercion, and so state intervention, are fundamentally different due to the differing conceptions of property held by Tucker and Rothbard. If we apply, for example, the individualist anarchist position on land to the workplace, we would treat the workers in a factory as the rightful owners, on the basis of occupation and use; at the same time, we could treat the share owners and capitalists as aggressors for attempting to force their representatives as managers on those actually occupying and using the premises. The same applies to the landlord against the tenant farmer. Equally, the outcome of such differing property systems will be radically different — in terms of inequalities of wealth and so power (with having others working for them, it is unlikely that would-be capitalists or landlords would get rich). Rather than a “minor” difference, the question of land use fundamentally changes the nature of the society built upon it and whether it counts as genuinely libertarian or not.

Tucke was well aware of the implications of such differences. Supporting a scheme like Rothbard’s meant “departing from Anarchistic ground,” it was “Archism” and, as he stressed in reply to one supporter of such property rights, it opened the door to other authoritarian positions: “Archism in one point is taking him to Archism is another. Soon, if he is logical, he will be an Archist in all respects.” It was a “fundamentally foolish” position, because it “starts with a basic proposition that must be looked upon by all consistent Anarchists as obvious nonsense.” “What follows from this?” asked Tucker. “Evidently that a man may go to a piece of vacant land and fence it off; that he may then go to a second piece and fence that off; then to a third, and fence that off; then to a fourth, a fifth, a hundredth, a thousandth, fencing them all off; that, unable to fence off himself as many as he wishes, he may hire other men to do the fencing for him; and that then he may stand back and bar all other men from using these lands, or admit them as tenants at such rental as he may choose to extract.” It was “a theory of landed property which all Anarchists agree in viewing as a denial of equal liberty.” It is “utterly inconsistent with the Anarchistic doctrine of occupancy and use as the limit of property in land.” [Liberty, No. 180, p. 4 and p. 6] This was because of the dangers to liberty capitalist property rights in land implied:

“I put the right of occupancy and use above the right of contract … principally by my interest in the right of contract. Without such a preference the theory of occupancy and use is utterly untenable; without it … it would be possible for an individual to acquire, and hold simultaneously, virtual titles to innumerable parcels of land, by the merest show of labour performed thereon … [This would lead to] the virtual ownership of the entire world by a small fraction of its inhabitants … [which would see] the right of contract, if not destroyed absolutely, would surely be impaired in an intolerable degree.” [Op. Cit., no. 350, p. 4]

Clearly a position which Rothbard had no sympathy for, unlike landlords. Strange, though, that Rothbard did not consider the obvious liberty destroying effects of the monopolisation of land and natural resources as “rational grounds” for opposing landlords but, then, as we noted in section F.1 when it came to private property Rothbard simply could not see its state-like qualities — even when he pointed them out himself! For Rothbard, the individualist anarchist position involved a “hobbling of land sites or of optimum use of land ownership and cultivation and such arbitrary misallocation of land injures all of society.” [Rothbard, Op. Cit., p. 9] Obviously, those subject to the arbitrary authority of landlords and pay them rent are not part of “society” and it is a strange coincidence that the interests of landlords just happen to coincide so completely with that of “all of society” (including their tenants?). And it would be churlish to remind Rothbard’s readers that, as a methodological individualist, he was meant to think that there is no such thing as “society” — just individuals. And in terms of these individuals, he clearly favoured the landlords over their tenants and justifies this by appealing, like any crude collectivist, to an abstraction (“society”) to which the tenants must sacrifice themselves and their liberty. Tucker would not have been impressed.

For Rothbard, the nineteenth century saw “the establishment in North America of a truly libertarian land system.” [The Ethics of Liberty, p. 73] In contrast, the Individualist Anarchists attacked that land system as the “land monopoly” and looked forward to a time when “the libertarian principle to the tenure of land” was actually applied [Tucker, Liberty, no. 350, p. 5] So given the central place that “occupancy and use” lies in individualist anarchism, it was extremely patronising for Rothbard to assert that “it seems … a complete violation of the Spooner-Tucker ‘law of equal liberty’ to prevent the legitimate owner from selling his land to someone else.” [“The Spooner-Tucker Doctrine: An Economist’s View”, Op. Cit., p. 9] Particularly as Tucker had explicitly addressed this issue and indicated the logical and common sense basis for this so-called “violation” of their principles. Thus “occupancy and use” was “the libertarian principle to the tenure of land” because it stopped a class of all powerful landlords developing, ensuring a real equality of opportunity and liberty rather than the formal “liberty” associated with capitalism which, in practice, means selling your liberty to the rich.

Somewhat ironically, Rothbard bemoaned that it “seems to be a highly unfortunate trait of libertarian and quasi-libertarian groups to spend the bulk of their time and energy emphasising their most fallacious or unlibertarian points.” [Op. Cit., p. 14] He pointed to the followers of Henry George and their opposition to the current land holding system and the monetary views of the individualist anarchists as examples (see section G.3.6 for a critique of Rothbard’s position on mutual banking). Of course, both groups would reply that Rothbard’s positions were, in fact, both fallacious and unlibertarian in nature. As, indeed, did Tucker decades before Rothbard proclaimed his private statism a form of “anarchism.” Yarros’ critique of those who praised capitalism but ignored the state imposed restrictions that limited choice within it seems as applicable to Rothbard as it did Herbert Spencer:

“A system is voluntary when it is voluntary all round … not when certain transactions, regarded from certain points of view, appear Voluntary. Are the circumstances which compel the labourer to accept unfair terms law-created, artificial, and subversive of equal liberty? That is the question, and an affirmative answer to it is tantamount to an admission that the present system is not voluntary in the true sense.” [Liberty, no. 184, p. 2]

So while “anarcho”-capitalists like Walter Block speculate on how starving families renting their children to wealthy paedophiles is acceptable “on libertarian grounds” it is doubtful that any individualist anarchist would be so blasé about such an evil. [“Libertarianism vs. Objectivism: A Response to Peter Schwartz,” pp. 39–62, Reason Papers, Vol. 26, Summer 2003, p. 20] Tucker, for example, was well aware that liberty without equality was little more than a bad joke. “If,” he argued, “after the achievement of all industrial freedoms, economic rent should prove to be the cause of such inequalities in comfort that an effective majority found themselves at the point of starvation, they would undoubtedly cry, ‘Liberty be damned!’ and proceed to even up; and I think that at that stage of the game they would be great fools if they didn’t. From this it will be seen that I am no[t] … a stickler for absolute equal liberty under all circumstances.” Needless to say, he considered this outcome as unlikely and was keen to ”[t]ry freedom first.” [Liberty, no. 267, p. 2 and p. 3]

The real question is why Rothbard considered this a political difference rather than an economic one. Unfortunately, he did not explain. Perhaps because of the underlying socialist perspective behind the anarchist position? Or perhaps the fact that feudalism and monarchism was based on the owner of the land being its ruler suggests a political aspect to propertarian ideology best left unexplored? Given that the idea of grounding rulership on land ownership receded during the Middle Ages, it may be unwise to note that under “anarcho”-capitalism the landlord and capitalist would, likewise, be sovereign over the land and those who used it? As we noted in section F.1, this is the conclusion that Rothbard does draw. As such, there is a political aspect to this difference, namely the difference between a libertarian social system and one rooted in authority.

Ultimately, “the expropriation of the mass of the people from the soil forms the basis of the capitalist mode of production.” [Marx, Capital, vol. 1, p. 934] For there are “two ways of oppressing men: either directly by brute force, by physical violence; or indirectly by denying them the means of life and this reducing them to a state of surrender.” In the second case, government is “an organised instrument to ensure that dominion and privilege will be in the hands of those who … have cornered all the means of life, first and foremost the land, which they make use of to keep the people in bondage and to make them work for their benefit.” [Malatesta, Anarchy, p. 21] Privatising the coercive functions of said government hardly makes much difference.

As such, Rothbard was right to distance himself from the term individualist anarchism. It is a shame he did not do the same with anarchism as well!

[julianalvarez9]

swift / paulo dybala

summary: you had started teasing someone on your instagram, but being a private person, you never said who it was. everything was perfect, until some pictures were leaked, ruining everything.

pairing: singer!reader x paulo dybala

face claim: oriana sabatini my beloved

yourusername

Liked by paulodybala, yourbff and others.

yourusername my smile is like i won a contest, and to hide that would be so dishonest ✨

View all comments.

user1 WAIT WHAT????

yourbff soft launching with taylor swift lyrics we love this for you ma'am!

liked by yourusername.

yourusername

Liked by paulodybala, yourbff and others.

yourusername privacy sign on the door, and on my page, and on the whole world 💌

View all comments.

user1 soooo who's this man 👀

user2 heard some rumors saying that it was paulodybala 👀

user3 i don't think it's him, she doesn't even like his pictures

yourusername

Liked by yourbff, taylorswift and others.

yourusername seemed like the right thing at the time 💔

View all comments.

user1 it's been 1 whole day and paulo hasn't liked this yet

user2 bestie did you see the emoji? i don't think they're a thing anymore

user3 you're analysing things too much

yourusername

Liked by yourbff, masonmount and others.

yourusername i broke his heart 'cause he was nice ❤️‍🩹

View all comments.

user1 what are you doing here masonmount

user2 waiting for his turn

user3 y'all ruined one relationship and are dying to ruin a second thing that hasn't even started 😂 unreal

[glassheadcanon]

Tagged by @sayonaramidnight - thank-you (and forgive me for blabbing on about so many faves)! ^_^

the last book I read: last novel was So Big, by Edna Ferber; last non-fiction work was The Truth in True Crime, by J. Warner Wallace (I usually have one of each on the go, and switch back and forth between them)

a book I recommend: for fiction, (besides the above - Selina Peake is definitely a roaring 20's Midwestern American kindred spirit to Anne Shirley), Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke and Dorothy L. Sayers's Murder Must Advertise; and for non-fiction: Person of Interest by J. Warner Wallace and Mortimer Adler & Charles van Doren's How to Read a Book Oooh - and for fellow book lovers: Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair!

a book that I couldn’t put down: the most recent one would have to be Martha Wells's All Systems Red (book one of The Murderbot Diaries) - it had such a compelling narrative and focal character voice!

a book that I’ve read twice (or more): how to choose? Old (and new) friends include: Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, and Dorothy Sayers's Harriet Vane novels

a book on my TBR: Mirra Ginsburg's translation of The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov has been at the top of the pile since being recommended by a colleague far too long ago but in the past few years it's been tough to put myself in the right mood and frame of mind for it, sadly

a book I’ve put down: for me, Nabokov's Lolita also immediately comes to mind (had a tough time with it ages ago and haven't picked it up since; like Miya I do want to give it another try - just haven't been able to bring myself to it, especially when there are so many more enjoyable alternatives out there, for me!)

a book on my wish list: way too many to choose from, but I'm really curious about Master-at-Arms by Rafael Sabatini

a favourite book from childhood: I honestly can't choose just one (so many of the classics were faves, especially L.M. Montgomery's and Lewis Carroll's) but for fun I'll admit that these ones: The Girl Who Owned a City by O.T. Nelson, Scott O'Dell's Island of the Blue Dolphins, and Lloyd Alexander's Vesper Holly books (like The El Dorado Adventure) were highly influential, as well

a book you would give to a friend: it always depends on their tastes, of course (though in the past I've enthusiastically gifted JSMN to adult friends who I know enjoy the genre, Island of the Blue Dolphins to young girls, and A.S. Peterson's The Fiddler's Gun and The Fiddlers Green to teen girls I know...I'm auntie to A LOT of nieces and nephews! :D)

a book of poetry or lyrics you own: Dorothy Parker's Enough Rope, and T.S. Elliot's Old Possom's Book of Practical Cats are old faves

a nonfiction book you own: I picked up The Lost Art of Reading Nature’s Signs by Tristan Gooley and look forward to reading it soon

what are you currently reading: currently revisiting my old friend, Anne of Green Gables, and then I hope to go through at least the next one or two in the series again😊

what are you planning on reading next: along with the non-fiction book in #11 above, I'm also thinking of taking Death and the Conjuror by Tom Mead with me on vacation in a few weeks

Tagging: @ashknife @jessilroberts @firefletch @cygnascrimbles (no pressure) and any other bibliophiles who're interested and haven't done this one yet!

[defenderoftruth]

President Donald J. Trump is the heart and soul of the MAGA movement, he will need to be surrounded by a group of warriors in Congress who share his devotion to strict America First principles.

The next Congress is poised to have some of the strongest and most patriotic America First candidates to date.  This will be a freshman class like no other, equipping President Trump with the firepower – and much-needed backup – that he mostly lacked in his first term in office to advocate for some of his bolder agenda items in Congress – including mass deportations, and returning law and order to towns and cities across the land.

Each one of the following candidates are MAGA firebrands – steadfastly devoted to President Trump and his agenda of securing our borders, ending the weaponization of our justice system, and eliminating election fraud.

None of these patriots would have certified the illegitimate results of the 2020 presidential election if it were up to them.  They all will go beyond what any current member of Congress has done to fight for the release of the January 6th hostages currently being imprisoned by the Biden regime.

They all love President Trump, and readily understand that his cause represents America’s hope.  For that reason, they heard the call and feel dutybound to enter the storm – and do whatever it takes to help President Trump come next January in his second administration to give him all the support he needs to Make America First Again:

Combat Veteran JR Majewski (OH-09)

The people of Ohio deserve much better than their current leadership, both Democrat and Republican, and Majewski’s election to Congress will benefit MAGA patriots nationwide, giving them a trusted voice and proven fighter who will prioritize America First values, over Mitch McConnell and the DC Swamp now bringing this country to ruin.

Make America Dominant Again!

J6 Patriot Derrick Evans (WV-01)

Derrick Evans arguably paid the greatest price for standing up for this country. Evans was one of thousands of Americans who peacefully demonstrated at the Capitol on January 6th – as a result, he had his liberties stripped away and was forced to serve three months in prison, including over a week of agonizing solitary confinement.

Derrick Evans has never wavered in his support for President Trump and America First principles.  In fact, last August, when President Trump’s mugshot was released, Evans posted it alongside his own mugshot in a display of solidarity with the 45th President, which the President later ReTruthed.

Trump Soldier Anthony Sabatini (FL-11)

Anthony Sabatini was the most outspoken Trump supporter while serving in the Florida House of Representatives, and was the only legislator to really hold then-Governor Ron DeSantis’ feet to the fire, pushing him to the right on policies ranging from gun rights to immigration.

Among his many accolades, Sabatini was the first Republican County chairman in the state of Florida to endorse President Trump.

He has been an unwavering backer of the 45th President’s, stating repeatedly on record that he would not have certified the results of the illegitimate 2020 election, while also calling on Governor DeSantis’ office to permanently cut ties with Biden’s DOJ in the aftermath of the unlawful raid on Mar-a-Lago in August of 2022.

Sabatini has represented J6 defendants as part of his legal practice and continues to be a stalwart advocate for the most vulnerable members of our society – the J6 victims and their families.

He is the most loyal and patriotic Florida legislator, bar none, and is a terrific addition to the next Congress.

America needs more great Patriots like Anthony Sabatini!

America First Patriot Blake Masters (AZ-08)

America First is here to stay, thanks to leaders like Blake Masters. He will support President Trump to solve the border crises and restore law and order in America.

Together with President Trump, Masters will bring illegal immigration to an end. He will protect our right to own and use firearms, so our streets safe again.

Vote for Blake Masters AZ

[mariacallous]

Conspiracists and far-right extremists are blaming just about everything and everyone for Tuesday morning’s Baltimore bridge collapse.

A non-exhaustive list of things that are getting blamed for the bridge collapse on Telegram and X include President Biden, Hamas, ISIS, P. Diddy, Nickelodeon, India, former president Barack Obama, Islam, aliens, Sri Lanka, the World Economic Forum, the United Nations, Wokeness, Ukraine, foreign aid, the CIA, Jewish people, Israel, Russia, China, Iran, Covid vaccines, DEI, immigrants, Black people, and lockdowns.

The Francis Scott Key truss bridge collapsed when the MV Dali cargo ship collided with one of the bridge supports. Six construction workers, who were filling potholes on the bridge’s roadway at the time, are presumed dead. The ship is owned by Singapore-based Grace Ocean Private Ltd., and the 22-person crew were all Indian. The ship was en route to Colombo, Sri Lanka, at the time of the accident.

This did not stop people from “asking questions” about the incident, a frequent conspiracist response to major events. And though conspiracy theorists are having a hard time pinpointing exactly what conspiracy caused the collapse, the one thing they do agree on is that this incident is a “black swan event.”

The term black swan event has been around for decades and is used to describe a major global event (typically in the financial markets) that can cause significant damage to a country’s economy. But in recent years, the term has been co-opted by the conspiracy-minded to explain an event triggered by the so-called deep state that would signal an imminent revolution, a third world war, or some other apocalyptic catastrophe.

One of the first people to call the bridge collapse a black swan event was disgraced former US national security adviser Michael Flynn. “This is a BLACK SWAN event,” he wrote on X. “Black swans normally come out of the world of finance (not military) … There are harbor masters for every single one of these transit points in America that are in charge of assuring the safety of navigation … start there.” Flynn’s post has been viewed 7.2 million times.

Misogynist influencer Andrew Tate, who has been charged in Romania with rape and human trafficking, also posted on X early on Tuesday morning, writing: “Nothing is safe. Black Swan Event imminent.” The post has been viewed almost 19 million times.

The term black swan quickly began trending on X, and soon conspiracists, extremists, and right-wing lawmakers began coming up with explanations for what or who triggered this “black swan event.”

One post claiming a link between the bridge collapse and the film Leave the World Behind has been viewed more than 1.2 million times. The post claimed that because the ship was headed to Sri Lanka, which has a lion on its flag, then the situation was linked to the ship that runs aground at the beginning of the film which was called White Lion. The post also points out that the film was produced by Obama.

A post from Anthony Sabatini, a former Florida state congressman, declared, without evidence, that “DEI did this”—and its been viewed over 2.2 million times.

Some politicians have boosted the conspiracy as well. “Is this an intentional attack or an accident?” Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, an influential and conspiracy-minded member of the GOP, posted on X above a video shared by a prominent QAnon conspiracist.

Under previous iterations of X, formerly Twitter, such speculation would typically have gained little traction, as the algorithm would have prioritized trusted news sources and primary evidence. But under Elon Musk’s reign, anyone willing to pay for a blue check can have their posts artificially boosted by the algorithm. This means that conspiracies like this are ending up in the news feeds of millions of people.

On Telegram, one prominent election denier claimed the incident was linked to the fact that the bridge was named after Francis Scott Key, who wrote the words for the Star Spangled Banner, and was thus an attempt to undermine America.

“Don't let them erase our history,” the conspiracist wrote.

Investigators are looking into the cause of the tragic incident, but William DelBagno, the FBI special agent in charge, said on Tuesday that there are no indications of terrorism.

[gilsart]

Are there any books you can recommend about Friedrich? German or English would be nice.

By the way, your art is so damn cute and adorable!! I am always happy to see you on my dashboard, even if you're "just" answering questions as you seem really nice.

hi!! first of all thank you ,,, means a lot to me, i always re-read my answers to make sure i don't sound rude or anything 😭 anxiety girlies where you at

about the books, there are lots!! i recommend you also ask @kattestrophe - she knows more than i do, especially about the german books; i am neither german nor english so some of those i own aren't available in languages other than my own.

the ones from my collection that are available in english/german are:

frederick the great by william f. reddaway - this is a biography, available in english, i haven't read it all because i only needed the crown prince bit, and that one had historical inaccuracies, so be mindful. but it has images!!

king in prussia by rafael sabatini - this is fiction and also available in english! it's a book from 1944 i believe, divided in two parts, specifically before katte's death and after katte's death up until ... i think the end of the seven years war? i don't know, i haven't read it all and i will stop at katte's death. fritz is very gay in this one as far as i've read, but in a queer disney villain way, which can be fun if you decide to ignore the homophobia. also one of the protagonists is katte's entirely fictional jacobite cousin, the most annoying man on earth.

zeithain by michael roes - this also is fiction, and only available in german. i have only read five pages of it (my german is very poor) and it follows katte, not friedrich. katte is also very sad. but as far as i was told, both of them are gay, so there's that. so far hans is like "it's raining and i'm alone and last week i went to a funeral. i have prayed to the god i lost during my childhood", certainly something very different from how he behaves in king in prussia ...

katte: die geschichte einer freundschaft by gertrud von brockdorff - this is also german only, i'm not sure about the actual book being available (i was sent a pdf) although it could be available in germany?? it is pretty old tho (1934) so i wouldn't know much about that. this one is also more about katte and friedrich, again fiction, it's eight chapters, still haven't read it because this bad boy is written in fraktur and i have trouble reading that but i have had conversations about it, and boy is it queer. there is a single chapter in which katte has a small identity crisis and has a romance with wilhelmine, but after that he's back to longing for frédéric and his "wide, bright and impenetrable" eyes that bewitch everyone. fellas is it gay to think your male friend's eyes are what you need a woman to have so you can actually love her?

the sorrows of frederick by romulus linney - available in english, this is a play from 1966, still haven't read it (the package is somewhere in europe right now), i think it follows all of fritz's life? it has fredersdorf, at least. but fredersdorf here knows katte, so eh. some anachronistic thingies here and there, what's new.

der alte fritz in 50 bildern - i can't figure out the name of the authors (damn it, fraktur) but worry not: this only has somewhat cool illustrations about fritz's life and a little bit of german text. at least some of them are. others are peculiar: voltaire is shorter than fritz in these. he wishes. i'm adding a photo though, so you can see!

i also own a pretty interesting book, not about fritz but about the seven years war in general, titled "prussian army soldiers and the seven years' war: the psychology of honour" by katrin and sascha moebius (there is an umlaut on the o there; i'm writing this on my pc and don't know where to find it).

i also have "later selected poems" by sheenagh pugh, which contains "five voices", a cycle of five poems showing five different perspectives on katte, if you're interested in that. there isn't a fritz perspective, though.

he also has a short chapter in "bad gays" by huw lemmey and ben miller, but i found it to be somewhat offensive at some point, although that could be a translation issue: there is a pretty offensive slur and some things i found to be inaccurate. overall i wouldn't buy it. i only bought it because the italian edition has very cool illustrations, at a time where i did not know about this translation thing.

the rest of my books are all available in italian only (or about voltaire).

hope this was helpful!

[schismusic]

Untitled piece on worried music (or some shit)

This piece has been floating around, shapeless and structureless, for the better part of four months now. I don't particulary care to give it any sort of unifying theme, or to put it into comparison with autobiography as I usually do. This will have to stand on its own as an ostensibly gratuitous exploration of various levels of preoccupation in music that I like. This being said, hope you enjoy the dive and you find something worthwhile to listen to. For those of you who hoped to read more about my very boring personal life, well, it's this way or the highway this time. I'm really bad at this, aren't I?…

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (don't worry, I will no longer subject you to this long ass name and will stick to the conventional acronym) live in this weird limbo where they might be among the longest-running acts to originate from the late '70s and yet at the same time are by and large considered by most a one-hit wonder. And to be fair, Enola Gay could very easily be the single best synthpop track ever recorded, thereby rendering other tracks from the same genre functionally useless to people who do not care about synthpop. I, however, care a lot about synthpop. But I also care a lot about a different, very underrated aspect of synthpop: its paranoia.

There's a really cool piece by Mark Sabatini on the Red Wedge magazine. The piece opens with a picture of peroxide-hair David Sylvian sitting in front of a Prophet-5 and is dedicated to Scott Walker and Mark Hollis, so it's basically just tailor-made for me right out of the gate. More importantly, however, it underlines the important relationship between some of the earliest bands in British synthpop and the concept of eerie in the Mark Fisher sense of the word, or some kind of uncertainty with regards to the future. The late 1970s sit at the cusp of a special time in contemporary history, not just because of what Sabatini notes, i.e. the passing of the torch between two decades that came to symbolize two completely different visions of the world (political, social, economic, cultural). The early Eighties would turn out to be some of the most tense years in the entire Cold War. A record like This Heat's Deceit is a direct byproduct of a terrifying climate of impending doom, faced with a dry sarcasm only the sense of rushing to an early grave could grant. In the Yellow Eyes post I also added a number of other examples, none of which strictly relevant to this exact post. One would think that OMD's preoccupation with being, at once, "ABBA and Karlheinz Stockhausen" would force them to a more sideways approach to these same feelings. To an extent, this is true, in that they very rarely discuss current-day topics in a direct way. I am specifically writing about, of course, Enola Gay, but take for instance a track like Telegraph. I remember sending it to Dog a while back and their reaction was quite priceless. Not only did they define it as "whimsical" and "faelike", wow!, but they also very acutely pointed out "something sinister about it just under the surface … it feels subtly dangerous".

This is technically true for the entire Dazzle Ships album. From the first moment we are in Prague, a weird place to be in the year 1983. A sampled trumpet fanfare loops around, a voice speaking in Czech, that same fanfare theme rearranged for a full orchestra. Then it hits you with a song titled, I shit you not, Genetic Engineering. The little children, the future in our hands, feel like more of a menace than they do a promise. They are to be controlled. International tackles rampant nationalism. Radio Waves echoes Kraftwerk and ties back into Telegraph. Of All the Things We've Made, a heartwrenching controlled melodic burst sounding like it could fit straight into the Disco Elysium soundtrack, reflects on the rift between Cold War superpowers with touching longing for world peace. And yet the most representative track of the whole lot might be Time Zones. A mess of jambled radio hourly signals: around the world in barely thirty seconds, codified conventional human behaviour presenting itself in the barest possible function, the capability to tell time. I've always been terrified of radio hourly signals. I remember car trips in the night, the mechanical nightingale chirping before the five boops right before the hour ended. I remember silent screens with sudden noises and an impersonal voice telling the time. So sterile it felt inexorable, the same way doom is.

On the other hand, this barely controlled element of quiet terror – a shift of the mask revealing an inhuman grin? – can at some point just burst into a more direct feverish sense of impending death. This is where a band like Sunrise Patriot Motion comes in. According to this incredible interview with Invisible Oranges, not only is every SPM release a piece in an ongoing story (so far there are two, so you're still in time to get in on the action before it gets too complicated), but Black Fellflower Stream – record number one – was actually itself the product of a driving obsession. In the words of Will Skarstad himself:

"For the first time ever Yellow Eyes was all over the place, but with this, we were like, twice a week, every week getting together. We got into this crazy routine, got obsessed, let’s finish this record. We were just so psyched about it."

Yes, the Skarstad brothers are once again involved. Not that much of a surprise, to be completely fair to you. Their guitar work with Yellow Eyes somehow manages to transcend the usual arrangement tactics of black metal, sounding less and less like cookie-cutter true-Norwegian imitators by the millisecond. While a record like Immersion Trench Reverie perfectly illustrates that, in SPM that same reality-warping harmony is bent in the direction of a post-punk-tinged beast, retaining however the powerful drive and pulse of metal. The brothers, ever so self-conscious, call it their "nu metal" project. I'm not inherently opposed to the idea: Deftones's Chino Moreno is notoriously a massive Japan and Duran Duran fan, Korn's Jonathan Davis got into makeup because of the Cure's Robert Smith. Where the fundamental difference with classic nu metal comes in is probably in the themes. Specifically, Black Fellflower Stream details the psychological journey undergone by a man who, in a religious stupor, comes to believe that he can dig a hole deep enough to find oil. Military symbolism, Catholic imagery relating to mystical ecstasy, incoherent autobiographical babbling, all tied together with the progressively clearer and unavoidable understanding (as per My Father Took Me Hunting in the Snow's liner notes) "that he is the sun, and, as the day ends, so will he."

Musically, in these two records, anything goes. Dungeon synth-inspired fake-ass FM keyboard preset sounds leave space to chugging heavy rhythm guitars, interspersed with yelled (more so than screamed) vocals courtesy of Andy Chugg and incredibly imaginative sampling and sound layering. The musical landscape painted by all of these elements, brought together in such a way that it feels miraculous for them to actually coalesce, is one of absolute military terror, where personal life and one's past are exploded into shrapnel, transform a delusional pretense into a mission of quasi-religious penance. One certainly wonders how long the experiment can go and how it can evolve. But I, for one, am glad that I got to hear these two records, and can't wait for any new music coming our way. Even if it means delving into horrifying visions of petrol war.

But what happens when this state of worry, paranoia almost, comes to essentially burn a hole into reality itself, detaching from average parameters of direction, time, weight, emotion? My guess is you get something close to the latest Ben Frost record. Not one to be intimidated by loud noises, Frost's body of work evolved from forlorn, cinematic guitar to progressively more Dangerous, noisy and aggressive territory. By the time A U R O R A hit it was hard to see where the project would go next. I would argue this was true for Frost as well: the vulgata around The Centre Cannot Hold (and its related EPs and singles) seems to be that it was a bit out of focus, speaking euphemistically. I don't disagree, regardless of my affection towards Threshold of Faith specifically. But Frost's arrival to a deviant, eldritch post-metal form sounds like it holds the key to a new fascinating approach.

The idea of "blending metal and electronica" will bring some of my older followers back to the Prodigy, or Nine Inch Nails, or Godflesh, or even Atari Teenage Riot if we want to force it a bit. On the other hand, some of my slightly less old followers will probably be catapulted into horrible traumatic nightmares of generic 2010-era metalcore bands incorporating keyboardists, brostep mid-range drilling FM modulation, overcompressed guitars and autotuned vocals. I'm proud and happy to report that, if anything, Scope Neglect swings more in the first direction than it does in the other one, but it's not a matter of sound as much as it is a matter of approach. Greg Kubacki (Car Bomb) provides absolutely crushing guitar work – not to mention Liam Andrews (My Disco) and his devastating bass guitar – sounding very much like abstracted takes on his main band's tracks. Yet the guitars sound heavily compressed, laser-focused on filling the mids in a very djenty way (look mom, I said djent in 2024, do I get an award for this?). This is, by design, as modern metal as it gets: and yet it sounds nowhere near as cauterized.

Not just because of the arrangements. And granted, the arrangements go a really long way to achieve the core idea of the record; but Frost's processing of the sounds turn Kubacki's cerebral bursts themselves into inhabitable, inhospitable spaces – bedrock for mind-crushingly heavy atmospherics – which are only then left to be filled with the listener's own imagination and a minimal number of sparse effects and austere melodies. Much in the same way as Autechre (and we're back!), this record comes to build the very spaces it describes, setting aside cinematic tactics – except, maybe, on closer Unreal in the Eyes of the Dead – in favour of an architecture of impossible terrors and, well, a worry and paranoia so imposing and totalising that it transcends discernible form, solid structure, anything but the (very few) bare and basic sonic referents it alludes to.

[aylinnworld]

Scaramouche - Rafael Sabatini

I have been reading and listening to this book/audiobook recently. And I must say I really like how good an adventure story it is.

Mostly due to how the main character manages to deal with problems, with his intelligence and resourcefulness, bonus sarcastic and witty remarks. He learns new skills which help him and the main character comes across a badass because of it but it is not overdone.

He has plans and dreams, but not everything goes as he would like or planned.

Bad luck befalls him, but he is able to turn bad luck into an opportunity. It is even stated plainly in the story that this is the way to go for a story rather than getting depressed for a long time about the situation. And it is sure a very good idea for an adventure story that needs action and not too much moping about unpleasant events.

The main character is not perpetually in the right. The author shows how the main character makes assumptions which are wrong.

It would be nice if some authors remembered about this need of balancing the badassery of their character, so they do not come across as overpowered/forever right Gary Stu or Mary Sue. cough Akatsuki no Yona cough.

[sunskate]

I sighed a little bit at the Canadian kids coming oh so close but just missing out on unexpectedly retaining 3 spots for Junior Worlds next year but I just glanced at the nationals placings and woah I had not realized how depleted the domestic junior field is about to be. Have to go all the way down to 8th before finding a team that isn’t ageing out or has split in the last month, and then 9th and 10th have also split. There are gonna be some just-out-of-novice babies getting two Grand Prix assignments!

👀 👀

you're right, there are very few teams returning intact in the 🇨🇦 junior field. Layla and Alex are going to be by far the most experienced

from Nationals: age eligible and still together (as far as we know lol) #1 Veillon/Brandys #7 Gover/Wilson-French (you didn't mention them, did something happen?) #8 Cinçon-Debout/Celestino #13 Carandiuc/Carandiuc

aging out of juniors: #2 Nguyen/Giang (said at Worlds that they're continuing in seniors) #3 Korneva/MacDonald #4 Fournier/Zhu #5 Martel/Oddson #11 Pehl/Yu #14 Chung/Mackenzie

splits: #6 Sabatini-Speciale/Buelow #9 Bolender/Dotzert #10 Gans/Boutsan #12 Kravets/Stark #15 Mentha/Duveau

[byneddiedingo]

John Gilbert, Eleanor Boardman, and Roy D'Arcy in Bardelys the Magnificent (King Vidor, 1926)

Cast: John Gilbert, Eleanor Boardman, Roy D'Arcy, Lionel Belmore, Emily Fitzroy, George K. Arthur, Arthur Lubin, Theodore von Eltz. Screenplay: Dorothy Farnum, Marian Ainslee (titles), based on a novel by Rafael Sabatini. Cinematography: William H. Daniels. Art direction: James Basevi, Richard Day, Cedric Gibbons.

This entertaining swashbuckler was long thought to be lost, apparently because of a contractual agreement between MGM and Rafael Sabatini, author of the novel on which it was based. When the studio failed to renew the rights to the novel in 1936, it destroyed the negative and all the prints it could get its hands on. Fortunately, 70 years later a print surfaced in France, missing only one reel that the restorers pieced together with production stills and footage from the original trailer. It was a good save, especially for the legacy of its director, King Vidor, and its star, John Gilbert. Vidor stages several lively swordfights and a memorable love scene in which Bardelys (Gilbert) woos Roxalanne de Lavedan (Eleanor Boardman) in a boat as it passes through the overhanging branches of a willow tree. But the film's highlight is a spectacular escape from the gallows, in which Gilbert (almost certainly with the help of his stunt double) outdoes Douglas Fairbanks in swinging from ropes and curtains, climbing walls, and fencing with pursuers. The story is romantic nonsense in which Bardelys, a womanizing marquis at the court of Louis XIII (Arthur Lubin) makes a wager that he can win the hand of Roxalanne, who has spurned the advances of the very hissable villain, Châtellerault (Roy D'Arcy). To win the bet, Bardelys finds himself assuming the identity of a man he finds dead, Lesperon (played by Theodore von Eltz in the missing reel), an enemy of the king. Sure enough, he and Roxalanne fall in love under the willows, but his imposture not only turns her against him when she finds proof that Lesperon is engaged to someone else, but also puts him in danger of being hanged for treason, especially after Châtellerault turns up and refuses to disclose that Lesperon is really Bardelys. Dorothy Farnum adapted the novel, and the cinematography is by William H. Daniels. The cast supposedly includes the 19-year-old John Wayne as a guard, in only his second film appearance, but good luck spotting him. 

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

What Brazil lost after Bolsonaro supporters rioted in Brasilia goes beyond the destroyed buildings and relics

Brazil’s flag has a phrase etched in the middle of its blue, star-studded globe: “Order and Progress.” The same flag was omnipresent as supporters of former president Jair Bolsonaro stormed the nation’s capital, some donning it like a cape as they attacked government buildings, others using it as a towel to wipe away the tear gas fired by security forces to contain the crowds.

These ideals of order and progress were replaced by disorder and chaos Sunday. The events that unfolded in Brasilia were shocking and terrifying, but not surprising. For months, Bolsonaro’s right-wing supporters have held on to the false belief that the October 30 runoff election was stolen, and that President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva didn’t win.

Bolsonaro himself never publicly accepted the election results, left for the US ahead of Lula da Silva’s inauguration on January 1, and has long sown doubt in the legitimacy of the electoral process and the country’s electronic voting machines.

“[Bolsonaro] has been stoking this for a long time, even before the elections. There are audits of the electoral machines, audits also by independent reviewers that confirm there was no chance for theft,” Christopher Sabatini, a senior fellow for Latin America at Chatham House in London, told CNN.

Bolsonaro has condemned Sunday’s riots, but Sabatini argues that the former president still bears some responsibility for the violence. “Quite simply, you cannot give your people the gasoline, the matches and then point them to the house and then claim that arson is not your fault.”

The damage to the broken artworks is incalculable, said Rogério Carvalho, Planalto Presidential Palace’s curator – and the same is true on a political level.

Continue reading.

[theanticool]

Pat Sabatini submits Lucas Almeida in the 2nd.

Big win. Dominant win for Sabatini. Out wrestled Almeida and just beat him up from the top before forcing him to tap out.

I am also tapping out. I’m tired and these fights are just not reaching my brain right now. Enjoy the rest of y’alls night folks.

[recreationaldivorce]

this file ("Deutsch emails") contains the complete source of email threads for the 2023-03-08 Mother Jones story “Inside the Secret Working Group That Helped Push Anti-Trans Laws Across the Country”. the emails are comprised of communications spanning 2019-2021 principally regarding an attempt to pass a trans youth transition treatment ban in south dakota in 2019, spearheaded by republican rep. fred deutsch and sen. lee schoenbeck.

there are extensive discussions between deutsch and notorious anti-gay and anti-trans “experts” associated with known hate groups targeting transgender healthcare in the united states, including dr. quentin l. van meter and dr. michelle cretella of the catholic medical association, dr. andre van mol of the christian medical & dental associations and american college of pediatricians, dr. michael k. laidlaw of the kelsey coalition, dr. william j. malone of the society for evidence-based gender medicine, dr. paul w. hruz of the national catholic bioethics center, laura haynes of narth, and deacon dr. patrick w. lappert of catholic reparative therapy group courage international. participants discuss crafting their language to avoid acknowledging that transgender people exist, constructing new ways to define doctors as criminals for providing gender-affirming care, and targeting a federal agency publication that correctly points out the dangers of anti-gay conversion therapy. their emails frequently digress into personal vendettas and ambitions of destroying established professional groups such as the endocrine society, and they typically celebrate their anti-trans legal and political achievements as a victory of the christian god.

the emails describe a wider national effort against transition treatment for minors, which included discussions with idaho rep. julianne young and sen. steve vick, georgia rep. ginny earhart, and florida rep. anthony sabatini. several anti-lgbt conservative legal groups are intimately involved in the discussion, including alliance defending freedom, adf-affiliated detransitioners hacsi horvath and walt heyer, eunie smith of eagle forum, adf-linked attorney vernadette r. broyles of the child & parental rights campaign, jane robbins of the american principles project, kara dansky and natasha chart of women’s liberation front, richard mast of liberty counsel, and emily zinos of minnesota family council and hands across the aisle. more recently, the transphobia-captured state of alabama harassed the endocrine society and wpath with subpoenas for their internal communications regarding hate groups and individuals participating in the deutsch emails, including segm, the american college of pediatricians, michael laidlaw, william malone, andre van mol, michelle cretella, and quentin van meter. the release of the deutsch emails is in the public interest and brings an equivalent level of transparency to the internal work of these major anti-trans advocacy and lobbying groups.

[sporadiceagleheart]

We all got a right to praise the Lord the lord has blessed them and healed them the lord lifted them up here's a new capcut tribute edit for Brandy Grace Shuler, Louis XVII, Shirley Temple and baby Leroy, Fanny Adams, Ida Hitler, Ida Hitler, Archie Peyton Samuel, Jamie Erin Kliesing, Erica Michelle Marie Green, Heather Ashley Nicole Ferrer, Mary Katherine Campbell, Madelyn Rae “Maddie” Clifton, Emily Danielle Caldwell, Allyson Faith “Allie” Allen, Miss Juliana Willoughby, 1781-1783, Prince Alfred of Great Britain, Prince Octavius of Great Britain, Prince Frederick William of Great Britain, Caroline Matilda of Great Britain, Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderón, Ignacio Zaragoza, Rafaela Padilla de la Garza, Rosalia Buccola Lunetta, Filomena Spitaleri Buccola, Mona Lisa, Meagan Lindsey Bradley, Jailand M. Adams, Caroline of Brunswick, Judith Barsi and Heather O'Rourke, Charlotte Figi, Lucy Morgan, Star Hobson, Saffie-Rose Brenda Roussos, Lily Peters, Olivia Pratt Korbel, Elizabeth Shelley, Sara Sharif, Sidra Hassouna, Sloan Mattingly, Audrii Cunningham, Ava Jordan Wood, Moa Leontine Björk and Emilia Björk, Mercedes Losoya, Norah Lee Howard, Makenna Lee Elrod, Eliahna Torres, Nevaeh Bravo, Layla Salazar, Jackie Cazares, Maranda Gail Mathis, Jayce Carmelo Luevanos, Jailah Nicole Silguero, Aubreigh Paige Wyatt, Avielle Richman, Catherine Violet Hubbard, Raffaella Carrà, Rozalia Spadafora, Rafaella Sofia Costin, Luna Mia Hernandez, Rafaela Ottaiano, Rafael Sabatini, Ruth Goad Dixon Sabatini, Lancelot Steele Dixon, Christine Wood Sabatini, Rafael Angelo Sabatini, Marcy Renee Conrad, Raphael, Mariano Lunetta, Julia Buccola Petta, Filippo Petta, Sierra Lynn Newbold, Adriana Dukic, Ema kobiljski, Frida Kahlo, Jamie Rose Bolin, Stephanie Randolph Bryan, Kimberly Colon, Mary Katherine Conroy, Monica Kay Gonzalez, Christina-Taylor Green, Ida Kate Griffin, Kimberly Marie Kassab,