#the dynasty and empire TALKING!!!!!!

[ludinusdaleth]

-Critical Role Campaign 3, Episode 103, "Cages"

[iamthepulta]

My advisor has left me huge fucking shoes to fill, lol. I'm half about to say 'fuck it' and make a left turn into Babylonia. Nobody needs to learn about Damascus steel, right?? Right??

[joyfulsoulblaze]

The Qing Dynasty was the last inheritor of the Roman Empire

OK HEAR ME OUT!!

So in the late 1700s the British Empire wanted to open up the Chinese market to trade for precious commodities such as silk. However trade witu foreigners in China was heavily restricted by the Qing government under the "Canton System" which hurt British profit. This led to the Macartney Embassy in 1793 where the British first established diplomatic relations with the Qing

The embassy ran into an immediate problem: they couldn't find a Britisher who could speak Chinese as in the Qing, it was punishable by death to teach a foreigner Chinese. As a result they had to make do with four Chinese Catholic priests. However, these interpreters were familiar with Latin, the language of the Roman Empire, while not being able to speak English

Consequently during correspondance with the emperor, the Imperial Court communicated to the embassy in Latin, making the Qing Dynasty the last great empire to use the language of the Romans in state affairs

Hence the Qing Dynasty was the last inheritor of the Roman Empire

[endless-ineffabilities]

be young, be dope, be proud

dynasty heir Aemond x heiress reader

a/n: randomly and carelessly drafted after a night out, so don't even ask me what this is. title obvi from Lana. also, I feel like the setting here is an acquired taste. so, enjoy? 💁🏼‍♀️🤍

themes/warnings: spoiled rich assholes, New York/modern references, language, clichés galore, Targs are like the Kennedys if that whole family was pure evil and Rep, SMUT, angst between brats who clearly want each other, also—you're kind of a hypocrite

main masterlist

The estate reeks with old money: marble columns, ancestral portraits, and a long dining table loaded with crystal and silver. Chandeliers try to warm the place, but it's all cold opulence. Outside, the gardens are cut and tamed to show that even nature has a price.

Your father always brings the family along to stately dinners up there in Westchester, with the usual crowd in attendance—the Targaryens, the Velaryons, the Lannisters—the whole lot.

Between them, they could probably purchase every building in Manhattan without creating a single dent in the bank.

Hell, maybe they already have. Generational wealth truly is the gift that keeps on giving.

You've tried to distance yourself from it. From people whose words drip poisoned honey and condescension. Being waited on like new order royalty.

But who are you to talk, when your father's lineage traces back to the fucking Mayflower? You and them are one and the same—filthy rich and borderline insane.

It is nearly impossible to maintain a steady sense of self, to have ample room for personal growth, when everything, every single thing, is handed to you on a silver platter. There is no tension there, no struggle, no need to exert any effort.

Failed your courses? Your father donates a building to the university. Aemond gets several DUIs? His great-uncle is a Supreme Court Justice. Aegon nearly burns his friend's house down while throwing a bacchanal-themed party? Let's just say that friend is grounded. For a week. Oh, the horror. Their family had many other estates, in many other places anyway.

When there are no real repercussions to your actions, you will feel like you can do just about whatever you want.

Burn the world down, for all you care. You can just buy a new, better one.

Granted, not everyone in your circle is an entitled egotist. There's Helaena, who strangely enough, does not possess a single self-important bone in her body, unlike her aforementioned brothers. Jace, who spends most of his time getting involved in political activism, for the side that his magnate grandfather Viserys steadfastly opposes.

You'd always sit beside either of them in these dinners, for the sake of your sanity. Unfortunately, Aemond and Aegon are never far. Especially Aemond—who occassionally stares you down as he sits across the table. Aegon, seated to his left, whistles at you. "Hey. Hey so... are you still slumming it with the art crowd?"

"I'm sorry?" You narrow your eyes at him. He didn't even say hello or mind if I cut in? as Jace was telling you about attending the DNC rally.

Aemond watches you again, so closely it raises goosebumps along your arms. He's been stealing glances at you ever since you arrived with your family. And you've been openly shooting glares at him when you sense it. Him and that steely one-eyed gaze of his always gets under your skin.

Aegon sneers, and you think how it's so in character of him. "You still live in Brooklyn? Cosplaying as a normie?"

"Fuck off, Aegon."

You've been living in Brooklyn for the past year, trying to finish up your Masters from Barnard. You would never hear the end of how this is the most redundant and useless thing, especially from people like Aegon. It does seem contrived, daddy's little heiress playing at being a scholar at Columbia, but at least you are doing something.

Besides, you have no desire to take over your family's empire. If anything, you want to branch out, maybe take on Jace's proposal on starting a charity foundation together.

"Aegon! Do you know how messed up that sounds?" Jace comes to your rescue, but you know it'll be for nought. Aegon's brain is too warped, too silver-spoonfed, to recognise his folly. You used to feel sympathy for the guy—this life is all he's ever known, and it isn't as if the adults around him ever set a good example, so can you blame him?

Used to. Now, he just annoys you. You grew up the same, but you are not like him, aren't you? So did Hel and Jace. So did Aemond. And Aemond, while still an asshole, is at least someone you can tolerate. He's vicious when it comes to his ambition, but he's genuinely smart.

He's cold and aloof, but he is also capable of tenderness.

You would never readily admit to anyone how you know this about him.

And he's staring you down, once again. You immediately know it's him when you feel someone nudge your shin under the table.

You eye him warily. What do you want?

He raises his eyebrows. Nothing. Just missed you.

At least that's what you're picking up from him. Why wouldn't he miss you? You're probably the best thing in his life right now. He should be so grateful you're still giving him the time of day, especially after everything he's done.

Aemond nods ever so subtly, the gesture meant for only you. You already know what he's getting at, but you don't feel like caving just yet.

It's another long moment of tuning in and out of your conversation with Jace, but Aemond's unspoken question lingers. When you deign to look at him again, he tilts his head to the side. Let's go.

He knows to leave first, and he stands and excuses himself from the table. Barely anyone gives him any mind, the adults debating passionately at the farther end.

You wait one whole minute, your heels tapping impatiently under the table. Then you follow suit.

"I need some air. Might have a smoke or something," you mumble to Jace. He wouldn't want to tag along, the scrunch of his face revealing how much he loathes the habit.

"Just the one," he tuts, raising a finger.

You roll your eyes fondly. "Okay, dad."

Aemond has just lit a cigarette when he hears you come in. The door to the private library lets out a tiny creak then shuts without a sound. He faces the window, his back to you. But he knows it's you. He can almost hear the derision in your exhale. A hint of your unmistakeable Guerlain scent is present in the room.

When you draw closer, he sees the ghost of your reflection on the glass, a mirage perched atop his shoulder. He thinks of the age-old visual of having an angel and a devil on either side. You would be the angel, and the devil... would probably be his own self.

The side he fights to keep buried. He knows you see it, and hate it, but you want him anyway. You let him have you anyway. And these stolen moments with you are the only times when he is truly free.

Without a word, he offers a cigarette to you, his hand moving with a smooth, practiced form that makes it feel like he's not just offering you a smoke but issuing a silent challenge. He lifts his lighter, an intricate, expensive thing engraved with his family crest, flicking it open with a soft metallic click, then holding the flame steady as you lean in.

He can't help but admire how beautiful you are as the glow illuminates your face.

"Do you ever get bored?" you sneer, folding your arms as you lean against a shelf. "Sitting there all night with that smug, 'yes, I agree with all of this' look while your family drones on about the 'sanctity of tradition.' Like a good little heir."

Aemond raises an eyebrow, barely looking up from his cigarette as he takes a drag. You sure have a habit of getting right down to business. "Funny," he replies smoothly. "For someone who 'hates' tradition, you play the part of Daddy's obedient little princess pretty well. I saw you batting your eyes at every gray-haired councilman at that table."

"Oh, please." You roll your eyes, heat flaring in your cheeks, though whether from anger or the way his gaze always seems to pin you in place, despite your best efforts, you can't say. "I'm not doing it because I like it. I don't sit there pretending I'm better than the rest of the world."

"You don't?" He cocks his head, his lips quirking into a wry, infuriating smirk. "Could've fooled me, princess. All I ever hear from you in these dinners are 'Oh, absolutely' and 'Oh, that's so interesting'—like you'd just die if they didn't think you cared."

"Wow, okay, says the guy who spent twenty minutes nodding along while they debated the tax breaks for HNWIs. Planning to cut yourself some more slack there, hotshot?" You take a quick, sharp puff, the smoke billowing out of your lips as you continue your tirade. "You're a damn statue, Aemond. Most of the time, you don't even say a word, and yet somehow you sit there looking like everyone should be grateful you graced them with your presence."

He takes a step closer, and his voice drops. This is something only you can do—you get to him, you hit him where it matters. Or, you're the only one he allows the privilege of doing so. "And you hate it, don't you? You hate that I don't care what they think. That I'm not actually here to impress anyone."

Your laugh comes out bitter. "Please. You don't care because you're so convinced they already think you're perfect. You don't have to impress anyone because you're Aemond Targaryen, right? The perfect heir to a glowing legacy."

"Better that than playing the poor, tortured rebel." He's so close you can count the facets of the sapphire in his socket, a dangerous gleam flashing behind them—another outlandish, excessive thing only a billionaire's son would think to do. "At least I'm not pretending I want to burn it all down while running around in the same circles as everyone else. Tell me, do you actually care about the policies Jacaerys painstakingly explains to you? Or is it all just for show?"

"You don't know me, Aemond."

"Oh, but I do. In fact, I think I'm the only one who knows the real you."

You clench your jaw, craning your neck up to look at him. How ironic that he literally has to look down on you too. "Unlike you, I actually feel something about all this. You sit there like you're above it all, and it's pathetic."

"Pathetic?" He lets out a low, humorless laugh. "You want to talk about pathetic? The only thing pathetic is you standing there acting like a revolutionary when you're just like the rest of us."

"At least I want to get out. At least I want to make a goddamn difference and—"

"Then do it," he says, his tone mocking, as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your face. "Get out. Run off, make your big escape. Show everyone how different and special you are, princess."

"Oh, right," you shoot back, trying to regain some of your moxie after his unexpected retort. "And leave you to taint my image after then?"

He scoffs, the gesture dismissive, almost cruel. "You wouldn't be here if you actually had the guts to go through with it."

Aemond may be a pretentious asshole, but he's right, and you know it. "You know what, Aemond? What if... I tell you that I like it. The power, the status, all of it. Is that what you want to hear?"

He smirks. "You'd be adrift without it. You'd be lost without all this to complain about." His gaze drops to your mouth, as if he could already guess exactly how a rendezvous like this is going to end.

How it always ends.

You feel your breath hitch, your pulse racing even as you grit your teeth against the draw of him.

"Don't look at me like that," you snap, trying to keep the upper hand. You should leave. You know this, know you should storm out and leave him here with that damn arrogant smirk on his face.

Call it a truce, and do it all over again next time.

"What's wrong? Afraid you'll do something you'll regret?"

The challenge in his tone has you seething, heat blazing up your neck. "You're insufferable, you know that?” You try to sound as furious as you feel, but your voice wavers, and the corner of his mouth tilts in a dark, smug smile.

"Then leave, princess." His eyes flash, daring you, mocking you, yet he doesn't move back. "Go on. Show me that strength you keep talking about."

The words are meant to push you away, to test how much you can take, but they do something else instead. They push you over the edge, sending you surging forward before you even know what you're doing, fisting the front of his pristine shirt and yanking him down to you.

Your mouth meets his, all anger and fire, biting at his lips as he smirks against you, welcoming the aggression. His hands find your waist, pawing at your gown, pushing you back until you stumble against the bookshelf.

You try to hold onto the anger, to use it to keep yourself in control, but the way he kisses you—rough, possessive, familiar, with a hunger that seems to match yours—makes it impossible. His hands slip to your hips, fingers digging into you with a desire that you both pretend doesn't exist anywhere but here, in the dark corners of your little meeting places.

"Stop," you gasp for breath, pulling away for just a second, trying to steady yourself, but he follows, his mouth trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting down just enough to make you groan.

His fingers slip beneath the slit of your dress, finding bare skin. "Then tell me you don't want this."

Your head tilts back involuntarily, the blissed hitches in your breath becoming frequent. You should tell him to stop, but the words never come, not with his fingers tracing up your thigh, the pressure of his lean body against yours, the electric shiver that races through you as his mouth tongue dances with your own.

You give in, letting your anger melt into something messier, something that's been building between you both for so long you don't know how to unravel it. Your hands move to his white-blonde hair, pulling him closer. His hand slips higher, while the other is braced against the bookshelf behind you.

There's nothing careful about it—gone are the dynasty heirs who are unfailingly curated and perfect and genteel in the public eye. It's all frantic, hands grabbing, mouths clashing, neither of you willing to let the other take control but both of you giving in to the heat. He yanks your dress up, lifting you and positioning himself between your legs, his breathing rough as he makes quick work of his belt. Then he lets his trousers and underwear drop halfway down his thighs, and his cock springs free, pressing on the draped material of your gown, which you hurriedly bunch to the side.

It's like a sick power play when he takes two fingers and plunges them past your soaked entrance, right to his knuckles. All without breaking eye contact.

But neither has the upper hand. You and Aemond are one and the same.

"Seems like you're ready for me, princess."

"Mhmm, aghh—" He hooks his fingers inside you, hitting that damned spot. "Just fuck me already."

And when he does, his cock practically propping you up against the bookshelf, it's fast, chaotic, your movements nothing short of needy and desperate, as if you're both trying to prove something to the other. You don't care about the priceless first-edition books that rattle precariously behind you, nor about the way his fingers dig into your flesh that guarantee bruises that will show tomorrow. Right now, you're past caring, past pretending that you actually ever cared about anyone but yourself.

And maybe... Aemond.

His groans come out unrestrained against your neck, his tongue flicking over the droplets of sweat, as if he can't bear you being any less than perfect.

Only he can taint you, only he can see you broken in and fucked out like this, your lipstick smeared to the side of your mouth. That same shade of rouge littering his cheek, his jaw, the collar of his shirt.

No words are exchanged, as if they've been used up in your twisted version of foreplay from earlier.

All he offers is, "Fuck, baby, I'm close," as his hips continue in its assault, his hands buried in the softness of your arse, keeping you in place.

"So am I," you counter.

He falls apart inside you, his cock sputtering while lodged deep in your clenched walls. The near-animalistic growl he lets out brings you to your climax, your forehead falling against his as your entire body is rendered limp in his arms.

When you finally pull away, flushed, your heart still racing, he looks at you with that same arrogant smirk, and you can't help but feel the distaste rising back up.

"Still think I don't know you?" he murmurs, smug satisfaction written all over his face.

You glare at him, pulling your dress back down, refusing to let him have the last word even as his expression uncharacteristically softens as he gazes at you, making you want to pull him close and kiss him again. Gentler, this time.

"This can't happen again," you force out your usual lie.

"That's what you said last time, princess."

Vhagar taglist: @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @joyismm @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @all-for-aemond @alokaaaaa @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk @inesdiary96 @weirdblob21 @lonelyladyghost @tssf-imagines @nurtargaryen @paula-lkr @queenofshinigamis @breezyjin @empfm @amanda08319 @unrealwinchester @optimizche @seamaiden @spoffyos @subliiminals @believeinthefireflies95 @ex0tic-vgh @anukulee @mrsmunson-harrington @romyfe06

[chaotic-archaeologist]

Survival During Turmoil

This semester I've been teaching an Ancient Civilizations class for college freshmen—that's how it's listed in the course catalog: Ancient Civilization. But that's not how I've personally been referring to the class.

I've been calling it Ancestral Civilizations and stressing at every turn that, while these civilizations no longer exist, they are not entirely gone. To call them dead or extinct or lost negates the fact that through every time of turmoil and collapse, people have lived.

People lived through the Bronze Age Collapse or the fall of the Mayan Empire or the dissolution of a Chinese dynasty. They got up in the morning and combed their hair and tended their crops and nurtured their children. They were uncertain then just as we are now, and nevertheless, they persisted. So will we.

The archaeological record is full of evidence of that day to day persistence, just like it will be full of ours. Everything you do is important—every moment of joy you snatch or quotidian defiance matters. Your life and your history matters.

Talk to your friends and loved ones. Make something. Come up with plans for the future. Keep living during tumultuous times. Persist.

[aemondwhoresworld]

STRANGER TO LOVERS

pairing: mafia!cregan stark x reader

summary: after eight months of being in an arrange marriage, mafia boss of the city of winterfell finally confessed his true feelings for his wife, y/n

word count: 1,5k

warning: english is not my first language. modern au, arrange marriage (?), angst to fluff, use of y/n.

masterlist | ADD YOURSELFT TO MY TAGLIST

The city of Winterfell was a frigid, unforgiving place, but it was also the heartbeat of Cregan Stark’s empire. A dynasty of power and shadow, the Stark family had ruled the city’s underworld for generations. Cregan was no exception, standing at the helm of the family’s criminal syndicate. Despite the harshness of his world, Cregan ruled with a code—one that valued loyalty above all. He was feared, respected, and rarely challenged.

But within the icy walls of Stark Manor, a different battle raged. It wasn’t over territory or power but something far more complicated—his feelings for you, his wife of eight months.

Their marriage had been an arrangement, forged not from love but from necessity. Cregan needed an alliance to secure his hold on Winterfell, and your family had deep ties in the South. The union had been strategic, coldly calculated like everything else in his life. Or at least, that’s what Cregan had convinced himself.

You are beautiful, intelligent, and fiercely independent. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on you, Cregan had felt something shift inside him—something he’d never felt before. But he was a Stark, and Starks didn’t show weakness, especially not to their wives. He’d kept his distance, playing the role of the detached husband, leaving you to the sprawling mansion while he handled business.

But over time, that cold detachment had begun to melt. He found himself seeking you out more often, stealing glances when you wasn’t looking, lingering in conversations that had nothing to do with the business. Yet, he remained silent, trapped by his pride and the fear that you could never feel the same.

It was a cold winter evening when everything changed.

The night was quiet, too quiet for Winterfell. The snowfall outside had turned the city into a white, silent expanse. Inside Stark Manor, a fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting long shadows across the walls. You curled up on one of the leather armchairs in the living room, a book resting in your lap. You’d found solace in reading since moving to Winterfell, a way to escape the loneliness that often crept in when Cregan was away.

Tonight, however, you couldn’t focus on the words. Your mind was elsewhere—on your husband.

Cregan Stark was a mystery to you, a man of few words and even fewer emotions. Their marriage had been more of a business transaction than anything else, a way to strengthen ties between their families. But despite his cold exterior, you had seen glimpses of something more—something tender hidden beneath the surface. You just didn’t know how to reach it.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you from your thoughts. You looked up as Cregan entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He was dressed in a dark suit, the fabric tailored to perfection, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. His icy blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Y/n,” he greeted you, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Cregan,” you replied, closing your book and placing it on the table beside you. “I didn’t expect you to be home so early.”

He walked over to the fireplace, his eyes fixed on the flames. “There’s nothing more to be done tonight,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. “And I wanted to see you.”

The admission caught you off guard. He rarely said anything so direct, so… vulnerable. You studied him, trying to read the expression on his face, but as usual, it was a blank slate. You stood up and walked over to him, your heart pounding in your chest. The heat from the fire warmed you as you stood beside him, close enough to feel the tension radiating from his body.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for answers.

He turned to look at you, his gaze intense. “Do you regret it?”

You frowned, confused. “Regret what?”

“This,” he gestured between them. “Our marriage. Do you regret marrying me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with emotion. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. You had never expected him to ask something so personal, so raw.

“No,” you said after a moment, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it.”

Cregan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a storm brewing behind his eyes. “Why not?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Because I’ve come to care for you, Cregan. Despite everything—despite how we started—I care for you more than I ever thought I could.”

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of deception, but he found none. You were telling the truth, and it shook him to his core. He had always assumed you was with him out of duty, out of obligation. But to hear that you actually cared for him? That was something he hadn’t been prepared for.

He looked away, his jaw clenched. “You deserve more than what I’ve given you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve kept you at a distance, thinking it was what was best. But the truth is… I don’t know how to be a husband. I don’t know how to love.”

You reached out, placing your hand on his arm. “You do love, Cregan,” you said gently.

“You show it in the way you protect your family, in the way you’ve built this empire to keep us safe. You may not say it, but your actions speak louder than words.”

He looked down at your hand, feeling the warmth of your touch seep through his suit jacket. For so long, he had convinced himself that he was incapable of love, that his heart had frozen over in the bitter cold of Winterfell. But you had been slowly thawing it, chipping away at the ice until he could feel again.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve been a fool to keep you at arm’s length.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching for the man before you. “It’s not too late, Cregan,” you said softly. “We can still make this work. But you have to let me in.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected back at him. For the first time in a long time, Cregan felt hope. He placed his hand over your, pulling you closer.

“I love you, Y/n,” he confessed, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, but I was too afraid to admit it. Too afraid to lose control.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion. “I love you too, Cregan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek. “I promise I’ll do better,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I’ll be the husband you deserve.”

You smiled through your tears, leaning into his touch. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cregan leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one that spoke of all the love and longing he had kept buried for so long. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back, pouring all of your love into that one moment.

When they finally pulled away, Cregan rested his forehead against your, his breathing ragged. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smiled, your heart filled with love and hope for the future. “We’ll figure this out together,” you promised, your voice steady and sure.

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, the warmth of the fire and their newfound love surrounding them. The city outside may have been cold and ruthless, but inside Stark Manor, there was nothing but warmth and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of emotions and newfound closeness. Cregan made good on his promise to be a better husband, spending more time with you and opening up to you in ways he never had before. He shared the burdens of his empire with you, letting you into his world and showing you the man behind the mask.

You, in turn, supported him every step of the way. You became his confidante, his partner, and his anchor in the storm. The more they shared, the stronger their bond grew, until the walls that had once separated them were nothing more than a distant memory.

But life in Winterfell was never simple. The Stark empire was powerful, but it was also constantly under threat. Rivals from the South, old enemies of the Stark family, were always looking for a weakness, a way to bring them down. And now that Cregan had let you into his heart, you had become his greatest vulnerability.

It was a crisp winter morning when that vulnerability was put to the test.

Cregan had been in meetings all day, discussing the latest threats to their territory. You had spent the morning in the study, catching up on some reading and preparing for a charity event they were hosting that evening. You were just finishing up when the phone rang, the shrill sound breaking

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TAGLIST: @r-3dlips

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Money in massive amounts is never clean.

To amass a certain level of wealth, there’s inevitably a little blood on your hands. That's why I prefer the Wayne family with a touch of moral ambiguity—keeps things interesting.

Sure, we can say Thomas Wayne was a good guy (I mean, "good billionaire" sounds like an oxymoron, but I’ll let it slide since he's fictional). He’s a surgeon, sometimes a co-CEO, and in some versions, he even takes a shot at being mayor. But let's be real—his wealth didn’t come from rainbows and fairy dust.

No, the Wayne fortune wasn’t built on saving puppies and planting trees. Somewhere in the family history, there’s probably a dark corner filled with skeletons, or you know, a handful of emerald mines for exemple. I wouldn't be shocked if Thomas's great-great-grandfather named a labor camp after his wife—romantic, right? Sweet sentiment aside, you don’t just wake up one day swimming in billions without a few questionable "business decisions" sprinkled in.

Yeah, the Waynes are old money, but we’re talking about billions—like "richer-than-Queen-Elizabeth" money. Battinson alone is worth what, 9.2 billion? And in the comics? Bruce is probably a trillionaire, and that fortune didn’t just materialize from charitable bake sales.

You can’t convince me that all of the Wayne money is squeaky clean. Even if Bruce himself isn’t aware of it, some of that fortune likely came from, oh I don’t know, oil deals that were less "above board" and more "we took it from the Middle East." Because, like I said, you don’t build an empire like the Waynes’ without some shady dealings. Let’s face it, billionaires don't get to that level of wealth by being saints.

Now with the new Penguin series, we’re about to see how wealth is really made—without the rose-tinted glasses. Sure, Oswald Cobblepot is a mobster and criminal, but money is money. You can work hard, play by the rules, and become a millionaire—that’s fair, that’s normal. But billionaires? I guarantee you they’ve done worse than Penguin to reach their fortune.

Fictional or not, it makes for a more grounded and realistic Gotham and I do hope Reeves will explore this idea.

In Nolan’s trilogy, we had the shiny, perfect Thomas Wayne and his oh-so-virtuous family, but we never really dug into how the Waynes probably weren’t doing great things for, you know, the rest of the world.

In the Snyderverse, we got that backstory about the Waynes being hunters and building their fortune by selling furs to the French, if I remember right—but still. You don’t become that filthy rich by just selling that.

We always pin the morally questionable label on the Kanes or the Arkhams (Martha Wayne's family), but the Waynes? They’re consistently portrayed as Gotham’s golden dynasty.

Anyway, that’s my ramble for the day.

[rocknrollbabe14]

Forbidden Fruit (Emperor Geta X Reader)

Part I

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Nudity, teasing, fingering, slight degrading.

Thanks to @josephs-quinns for my header! Love you!

You didn’t come from a wealthy family. It was quite the opposite actually. But your parents needed this and for some reason, the emperor had caught you out as one of the women he wanted to meet to potentially become his wife. Caracalla. Emperor Caracalla was the eldest son of Emperor Septimius Severus. Caracalla and his father were part of the Severan dynasty.  There was a lot of talk about him, his brother Geta, and his father amongst the empire. People had to be careful how they spoke of them, however. But it was Caracalla’s father and mother that were finding it important for their sons to find wives and begin a family. You were sure he could have cared less—he could sleep with any woman he wanted.

He and his brother was in a position of power and authority, two of the most important things this day and age. Any woman in their right mind would not turn down either Emperor. Part of you was hoping he’d choose you—for your family’s sake. They’d be highly favored if the emperor chose you. But you wouldn’t return to your normal life. You’d instantly be taken in by the family, beginning preparations to make you his wife. It was all overwhelming to think about. 

You knew that there would be women lined up for a chance to court and marry Emperor Caracalla. He had been co-augustus with his brother now for some time, getting the real taste of what it was like to rule. His true colors would show through soon enough, they always did. Every ruler, every time. It never failed. He had a huge weight on his shoulders.

One could only imagine the weight he had on his shoulders. It was something you couldn’t imagine—learning the ropes so that one day you could take over the empire from under your father. His life was royalty, but you were sure it probably wasn’t easy. There were standards he had to live up to and achieve. That would be hard in itself, having such an expectation to live up to. You shook your head lightly just thinking about it. 

The journey to get to Caracalla was going to be a long one, one that you weren’t sure you were mentally prepared to endure. As bad as you hated to admit it, part of it felt like a death sentence—a march to your uncertain and untimely death. Maybe that was being a little dramatic. But your life as you knew it was over, wasn’t it? Life would never be the same if he chose you as his partner. This would be a huge undertaking.

Part of you was content that your mother had agreed to take this journey with you. It was comforting to have her near, a familiar faucet in this unfamiliar setting. If Caracalla chose you, the wedding would be extravagant and grand. It would be something you could only dream about, something so far out of your reach. But was it now? That was to be determined. 

Each one of you had to introduce yourselves to him and bow before him. He and his brother were on the throne together, picking over each one of you. When it got to you, you thought you might forget your name that your stomach was flipping so hard. But somehow, you had made it. Geta even had eyes on you, narrowing them as he bit his lip and fiddling with his rings subconsciously. 

Geta looked over at Caracalla before turning back to you. He said something and then chuckled but it was inaudible. It made you nervous. But somehow, something must have went right. You were still here and still in the running to be Caracalla’s wife. They had narrowed it down to just a few of you. There were also just a few for Geta. But he seemed as if he could care less. It was a hot night during summer and you couldn’t sleep. 

You probably shouldn’t have went off by yourself but you were trying to get some fresh air. The imperial palace had many twists and turns and you started to feel like you had just been going in circles. There was a soft sound like water running, peaking your curiosity. It had to be outside, right? Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and opened the door. There was steam and the sound of water splashing. You looked around, trying to find something—anything. 

You saw some clean fabric lying off to the side. 

“Lost?”, a voice echoed against the water. 

You looked up, horror across your face. You were met with the dark eyes of Geta. He was naked, the glisten of water reflecting with barely any soap on his body. 

“Um—I’m so sorry—

“Are you?”

“I am.”, you stammered quickly, grasping at your night clothes. 

He chuckled lightly, making no attempt to cover himself. “Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to see your future husband’s brother naked?”

“I—”

“Aw, can you form a full sentence, love?”

He was taunting you. He knew you were flustered, it was all over your face.  You began to think what a jerk he was. 

“I didn’t mean to—I promise.”

Geta chuckled again and you felt your eyes go south, immediately taking the view in.  He was huge and your brain tried to process how that would even fit inside you—you mean Caracalla’s—if it looked anything like his. You bit your lip subconsciously. You had never seen a man naked before. Part of it made you feel pathetic. 

“Are you sure?”, he smirked, the smile twisting up into his cheeks, becoming more sinister.

“I am—I just wanted fresh air. That’s all.”

He smiled to himself, continuing his bath. “Hm. You know—are you sure you want to marry my brother?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean—I.”

“What has you so flustered? Never saw the male anatomy before?”

“No.”, you admitted easily, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear, feeling your cheeks heating up.  

Geta smirked to himself before looking up at you. You couldn’t help but watch as he took his hands over his body as if he was tempting you, showing himself off. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, love.”

“What do you mean?”

He smirked, his lips twisting in a crooked smile. “I mean—you can get acquainted.”

“W-when?”

“Now.”

“Now? I’m sorry I don’t see your brother around—”

“Not with my brother—with me.”, he corrected. 

You heard water dripping, him wringing the cloth out in his hands. His curls were dripping with water, the water beginning to cascade down his back and chest. You felt yourself swallow hard, getting distracted by the sight. He noticed, beginning to chuckle to himself. 

“I bet you’ve never even had a man appreciate your body, have you?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. You couldn’t even make eye contact with him, beginning to wringing his hands. “No.”

Your response was meek, even making you feel weak. 

He scoffed to himself lightly. “I thought so. Well, you can come over here—I don’t bite, you know—unless you want me to.”, he laughed.

Your lip curved, unsure if you should take his advice. Your entire body felt like it was shaking and you barely had the ability to move your legs, putting one in front of the other. His golden brown eyes were fixed on you as you walked towards him. He watched you swallow hard before he reached his hand out to take yours. 

“Don’t slip and fall.”, he began. “We need to first—get you out of these clothes.”

“We do?”

“We do.”, he confirmed, beginning to touch the soft cotton fabric on your shoulder. 

Considering it was hot and summertime, you were wearing a thinner gown to sleep in. It was nicer than anything you had at home, if you were being honest. Your mother and father had did their best to give you a good life but this was your chance to make theirs better. Would this one night screw that up? 

His voice was barely above a whisper as he began to carefully undo your grown, sliding the fabric off your shoulders. His fingers sent chills over your entire body as one hand gripped your shoulders and the other helped the fabric slide down until you knew your cleavage was revealed and soon your breasts would be. He noticed your breathing hitch and he stopped, his brown eyes focused on you. 

“Relax.”

You nodded, swallowing again. 

His eyes panned back down to your body, the gown sliding down almost like a curtain falling down. The soft summer breeze was blowing through, only causing the chills to intensify. You felt your nipples harden and wondered if he noticed. But he did. You were left completely naked in front of him. Little did you know, but to him, you looked like one of the sculptures. Perfect in every way. 

“Look at you.”, he cooed as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to force you to make eye contact with him. 

“So beautiful.”

“You’re giving compliments?”

“Only to you.”

“I’m not even in the running to be your wife.”

He chuckled. “Just try and relax. Let’s get you cleaned up a little.”

You watched as he grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the bath. Your eyes fluttered shut as you braced yourself for the touch, the sensation of the cool washcloth. He heard your sharp inhale as he took the washcloth over your skin, starting at the top of your collarbone. Even if it was a warm night, the water was cool. He was careful when he was washing you, something you were surprised he even knew how to do.

“How do you feel?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m asking how you’re feeling—about all this.”, Geta responded, as if nothing was pressuring him or bothering him.

It was nice that he wasn’t stressed in this situation.

“I’m—fine.”, you finally managed to get out as he moved down your arms. 

His strokes with the washcloth was soft and sensual. He knew what he was doing. 

“Are you?”

Your eyes finally opened to meet his. His eyes were fixed on you, watching you for every reaction as he moved the cloth. 

“Yes.”

“You seem nervous, love.”

“I’m no-not.”, you gulped.

He shifted his shoulders slightly, having stood in one position for too long, 

‘

“You are.”

“I mean—I’ve just never been with a man before—like this.”

“We’re going to learn a lot.”, Geta smiled, his perfect teeth shining. “You just need to relax and let me take care of things.”

“Have you been with women before?”, you blurted out.

Geta gave a hearty laugh. “Oh, love—I’ve been with many.”

You felt a pang in your chest and it was against better judgement. Why were you feeling this way about a man who didn’t feel this way about you? Deep down inside, you knew this was only about sex. Your mom had taught you very little about sex and how the human anatomy worked. All you knew was once a man and woman were married, they’d usually consummate their marriage and end up with a baby. How all that process worked, well—you weren’t sure. 

“I see.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy you, darling.”, Geta smirked, tilting your chin up in order to force eye contact with him.

  You felt weak in this moment. He had power over you and he knew it.

You swallowed hard again. “How do—do you know?”

“Because you’re a virgin, aren’t you? No one’s ever taken a bite from that sweet apple. Have they darling?”

Your stomach twisted and curved in knots. You had never felt this feeling before and you were trying to wrap your head around it. 

“No.”

“Mhm and to think you’re going to let me have that first bite.”, he nuzzled his nose into your neck before kissing it softly.

Maybe there was a side to him that he wasn’t letting others see. 

“And who says I’m going to let you have it?”

You felt his lips pull away from your neck, finding him looking you dead in the eyes, his brows furrowing and eyes narrowing.

“You’d deny one of your emperors?”

That was the look a lot of Rome had saw too much. When Geta gave this look, heads usually rolled. In this moment, you could see ruthless ruler. 

“No—your majesty.”

His face relaxed slightly as he realized he was making you nervous.

“Very well.”

You held your breath waiting for what he would do next. You closed your eyes briefly as his hands slid down your waist and stomach. You heard water splashing lightly before his thick, broad hands found their way on your thighs. His cold rings sending chills across your delicate skin. 

Your eyes popped open. “What—what are you doing?”

“Just admiring you. Wouldn’t hurt for me to feel how tight and wound up you are for me, would it?”

Your stomach twisted into knots. 

“And how-how would you do that?”

Geta smirked up at you. “Just trust me.”

“Your majesty, please.”

“Spread your legs for me.”

With a thick sigh, you did as he requested. Who were you to argue with the emperor? You were glad he was holding your thighs or else you felt like your legs might give out. You felt his thick fingers trail up the inner side of your thigh right above your cunt. His fingers teased the outside of it.

“You’re already drenched, love.”

He heard another thick sigh escape your lips as you closed your eyes shut, almost as tight as they’d go. 

“It isn’t anything to be embarrassed about, love.”

You sighed again. “I know—I just feel like we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

Geta paused, his fingers barely creeped up before entering your cunt causing you to lose your breath.

“I don’t-I’m not sure.”

He had rendered you senseless. You couldn’t even finish a complete sentence. A devilish smile curved across his lips as he continued to work his ringed fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots. You bit your lip, trying to hold back any sounds but you weren’t even sure if someone could hear you out here. 

“Don’t hold back.”, he commanded as he felt you almost go limp in his arms. 

“Can—anyone—hear?”, you asked, breathless.

“No.”

That made you feel slightly more at ease. It didn’t take anything else to make you feel comfortable with him. At first, it was soft moans escaping your mouth. But as he kept pushing his fingers deeper inside you, rings brushing your walls, you began to lose yourself. Your eyes began rolling back in your head and he was barely doing anything to you.

He noticed when your moans picked up, becoming louder. 

“Like that?”

You nodded.

“I need words.”

“Y-yes.”, you managed to choke out.

His finger stroked longer and slower, drawing it out.

“Think my brother could do this for you?”

Your eyes opened, looking at him. He had clearly got your attention.

“The answer is no. My brother has never been with a woman before, if I’m being honest.”

He was cocky but you were beginning to love that quality about Geta. Caracalla seemed to walk more in Geta’s shadows or at least that’s how it appeared. No one dared to say it out loud. There was speculation that there was a lot of tension between the two brothers. Geta seemed so sure of himself and that was another reason he was so convincing. 

Before you could speak, his fingers slid deeper inside you, causing your stomach to twist and turn. He was hitting the spot that made you forget your name. All of this was new to you as you had never ever been with a man. 

“Found the spot, didn’t I?”

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. 

“Just wait until I put my cock inside you.”

Your eyes widened. He didn’t stop moving his fingers inside you which caused the heat in your stomach to build. 

“That’s right, I want to fuck you and make you mine.”, he confirmed. 

“What?”

“What did you think this was all for?”

“And how would—we explain that to your brother?”, you managed to get out in-between moans. 

“I’ll take care of that.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was intensifying, ready to come to a boiling point. He noticed it too and knew what was coming. He smiled again, his brown eyes watching you—waiting for you to release. It would be instant gratification for him. And he couldn’t wait. He watched with a hellish grin as your back arched and you let out the loudest moan you had all night long and he felt you tighten around his fingers.

He chuckled lightly and he felt you all over his fingers. You looked up at him, confused as to what had just occurred. 

“What—?”

“You came, darling. All over my fingers.”, he smirked as he slowly eased his fingers out of your cunt, causing you to gasp at the loss of contact. 

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, spreading them apart and admiring your juices on his fingers. Before you could speak, he inserted his fingers in his mouth and closed his eyes, reveling in the taste of you.

“You’re finer than anything Rome has to offer.”, he breathed. 

“I am?”

“Yes, you are, darling and now what if we go to my room and you let me take what’s rightfully mine?”

TO BE CONTINUED……

[danmei-confessions]

I think we should talk about Wu Zetian, China’s only female emperor, who historically has been regarded as a horrible and brutal leader.

She was born a commoner, became a concubine to one emperor, married his son and then took the role of emperor for herself when he died. She was politically adept, highly ambitious and extraordinarily intelligent.

History has accused her of smothering her newly born daughter and blaming a rival for her death. She had that rivals hands and feet cut off and then had her thrown into a vat of wine in which she was left to drown. She gouged out another rivals eyes and had acid poured down her throat. She wiped out 12 entire branches of a clan. She poisoned her mother. Just how accurate these things are is up for debate, but while these things might not all be true, she certainly did have several family members killed. And she did deal with her rivals and her detractors ruthlessly. Yet none of these things would have attracted criticism if she had been a man. She was no more scandalous than any other ruler during that time period.

But! Her rule was peaceful and prosperous. She avoided wars and welcomed ambassadors from as far away as the Byzantine empire. She changed laws so common people could be chosen for roles in government for their abilities rather than their name or status. She acknowledged and acted on criticisms from her retainers. She built watchtowers along the Silk Road so merchants wouldn’t be harrowed by bandits. Her reign saw women given more freedom(the ability to divorce, hold government positions, travel, hunt and ride horses, to be recognized by scholars).

She supported Buddhism and helped the religion spread and grow through commissioning temples, monasteries, and even a statue of the Buddha said to be carved in her own likeness. In the eyes of the common people, she likely would have been an incredibly popular ruler.

She remains a controversial figure primarily because of stories about her personal actions against her rivals by male Confucian officials who were prejudiced against strong and ambitious women and while they undoubtedly exaggerated aspects of Wu’s life, there is still substantial verifiable evidence of her ruthlessness.

We should also be aware that although she allegedly held her power through murder and merciless, according to Confucian philosophy, ‘while an emperor should not be condemned for acts that would be crimes in a subject, he should be judged harshly for allowing the state to fall into anarchy’ and viewed under this lens, Wu did effectively fulfill her duties as a ruler.

So we have a leader of ancient china who had two faces, one who committed acts of vile cruelty against her family and rivals and one who gave her citizens peace and prosperity.

Through a modern lens she can be viewed as an evil woman who rose from humble beginnings and coldly and calculatingly murdered her way into arguably the most powerful position in the world. A rich woman who threw crumbs to her peasant people while she lived luxuriously. She is a deadly woman, a black widow, an evil stepmother, a kinslayer. But according to historians, “without Wu there would have been no long enduring Tang dynasty and perhaps no lasting unity of China.”

The comparison to a modern mr beast obviously doesn’t hold water, but we can certainly analyze jgy to a more comparable historical figure and argue more accurately in a historical context if jgy was a good leader as the de facto emperor as the cultivation worlds Xiāndū.

It’s easy to see the comparisons between Wu and jgy, both were undesirable and deemed unfit by society. But both were politically adept, highly ambitious and extraordinarily intelligent. Both had family members murdered, perhaps sharing between them filicide. Both had a clans murdered to a man. Both are thought to have had their faces carved on religious relics for their narcissistic pleasure. Both had watchtowers built as a defense for their people. And both were torn down by the men following after them, vilified and distorted. Both forever destined to be speculated upon and misunderstood. Both of their legacy’s destroyed by rumor and falsification. It would not surprise me in the slightest if mxtx didn’t draw on Wu at least a little bit in the creation of jgy. Both Wu and jgy are culpable for some pretty heinous stuff, that can’t be denied. But like Wu, jgy also has a second face.

Moral bias and character motivation aside, his efforts to build watchtowers, his patronage of religion in the building of Guanyin temple, his fight against political corruption, his years long peaceful reign, his charity, all these things lead to the conclusion that under the rule of Confucian, he more than aptly fulfilled his role as a leader for his citizens.

And if you really want to look at Jgys leadership through a modern lens, we really don’t have to look much further than Ingersoll. “If you want to find out what a man is to the bottom, give him power.”

And really that’s part of the tragedy of his character. Because of his background he excelled when he was in a role of leadership. He was good at it.

Whether or not jgy as a literary character is a good person, is subjective and should not be used to measure his role as an effective leader.

All of that being said, jgy is my bestfriend and I love him and would I die for him.

.

[utilitycaster]

I've definitely said this before but I'll say it again: the argument for killing the Exandrian pantheon because the status quo must change is absolutely nonsensical and shows a profound lack of imagination and understanding of both past and currently relevant lore.

There are aliens from the moon who have arrived on the planet. Magic might be fundamentally changed, permanently. Geopolitics will be drastically different, particularly on the continent of Wildemount where the absence of Ludinus Da'leth has led to the dissolution of the Cerberus Assembly; in the long term this might open up a potential for actual lasting peace talks between the Empire and the Dynasty and a reduction in both powers' isolationist tendencies, particularly since the Empire's seizing of archaeological sites will probably end. The widespread reveal of the nature of Predathos, the two gods killed by Predathos, confirmation on the story of the creation of Ruidus, and the information from the Thalamus would have world-shattering effects on Exandria's understanding of history and the divine. The Exandrian Accord will almost certainly foster countless new international relationships and alliances. The reveal that Ludinus was responsible for Molaesmyr will also be massive and could lead to any number of dramatic changes in the political, arcane, and literal landscape in the region of the Savalirwood. The portal to the moon in Ria'Doin may transform an otherwise isolated region of Issylra. If Predathos and/or the Weave Mind are defeated, destroyed, or banished, it will upend Ruidian society entirely.

Any single item above would be significant. Several have already occurred. Exandria will be forever changed even if the campaign were to end next week with the party killing Ludinus and destroying Predathos in a poorly-done Rocks Fall BBEGs Die scenario. We've checked off "change the status quo"; that is no longer a valid Doylist argument for killing the gods and never was much of a Watsonian one, and can now be entirely disregarded.

[smallishdoggo]

I kinda hope Braius gets an origin comic or a short story or something, cause I think the implications of what we know about him are really fascinating.

He's a religious refugee from the Kryn Dynasty. Maybe there's a whole sect of Kryn Platinum Dragon worshipers with their own religious rites and traditions, which could perhaps clash interestingly with Platinum Dragon worshipers in the Empire. Braius mentions the Empire's xenophobia when he's talking to Jester about what happened to him and his family- it's easy to imagine factions in the church had varying feelings on taking in refugees in the first place, and how that might have contributed to him gaining his job at a young age and then losing it and everything over a fairly minor fuck up.

This is pure speculation in that I don't actually think anything in the campaign implies specifically this (I don't think anything contradicts it either, so), but imagine Braius got promoted to head of security at a very young age as a gesture of goodwill towards a refugee population that maybe feels a bit mistreated. A gesture that's kind of empty, because they maybe specifically chose a very young man who would be easy to keep under church leadership's thumb and not actually have the confidence or experience to leverage any power granted by his station to any great effect on behalf of the other refugees. And when a very minor fuckup happens, people within that leadership who didn't ever want refugees there take the opportunity to blow it out of the water and get rid of a few undesirables.

I think the choice to make Braius a religious refugee explicitly subject to xenophobia in the land his family fled to is so fucking interesting for shit that's almost certainly not gonna get explored in any depth in game. It really ads a lot of color and texture to the God Debates if you let it percolate in your brain a little bit.

I just think he's neat. :]

[essektheylyss]

You know what I think about every so often? How many souls were in the beacons that Essek handed to the Empire. It's possible that there weren't any, but it seems unlikely, especially considering the elven population is pretty high in the Dynasty and elves do not tend to have children that often. And it's been ten years in game, so surely there are some kids in Rexxentrum or Zadash and the surrounding areas who are starting to have some weird ass dreams. If those kids show up in the Dynasty in another five to ten years, what does Leylas do? That sure as hell would confirm that someone in the Empire was lying out of their ass about not having actually stolen the beacons. Does the Empire throw Ludinus (who, we can hope, will be an oil stain on the moon by then) under the bus to get out of another war? This is also presuming that Bertrand Dwendal is still alive and the Assembly hasn't eaten itself alive, which would introduce an entirely new element of "no one in this entire government knows what you're fucking talking about" in the face of Leylas Kryn, Exandria's Grudge-Holding World Champion. We all talk about consequences for actions but when do I get to hear about the fallout of that.

[cozzzynook]

Transformers idw

A visitor from the future comes past, at first everyone is wary of course, both megatron and optimus talk with them, it isn't until the visitor sees starscream and bumblebee that they bow, starscream is smig abt it while bumblebee is shy and gets all nerveous, then they explain the reason behind their actions, they come from 10,000 years in the future, and where they come frome, it's from a cybetronian colony eilon-9, sister colony to at least other 10 planets in a sistem, all 11 planets belong to a empire of more than 100 universes, he explains himself, he comes from the line of ulchtar, he's starscream AND bumblebee's decendant, from a line with more that 8,000 rulers.

Everyone is of course shocked, some acuse him of being a liar, that he's working with the enemies and trying to trick them, until he shows them real evidense, his homeplanet, his city, the palace where he as a member of a noble family with royal cna was born.

His name is blackstar the dread of the house of ulchtar, the name idea came after bumblebee decided that maybe the human tradition of a lastname would be good to copy, since then, only those with royal blood had a "lastname" since it was more of a title than a last name, that all the younglings in the house of ulchtar have always earned their titles before the age of majority.

Bumblebee and starscream are of course, surprised after realizing that :

1. They will at some point be rulers of cybertron (and at least 10 colonies)

2. They will become conjuxes and have sparklings, their firstborn a mechling who's name is scorch and gets the best from both his creators.

3. They will create the mightyest dinasty in the history of cybetron (and all the other colonies to come)

4. Starscream and bumblebee, despite having their existence proven, are revered like myths in the present future, statues,paintings,temples and the house of ulchtar's words "unbowed,unbent,unbroken" (it's fitting with both bumblebee and starscream).

Bumblebee is in shock, starscream is actually crying, he got something bigger than just being the leader of the decepticons, he will go down in history as the sire of a dynasty, he will be remembered for million of years to go.

Before more questions can be asked the blackstar disappears, saying goodbye and whishing good luck to his ancestors.

Once he leaves everything is in silence and starscream actually jumps of happiness, the happiest day of his life cycle.

Oh my freaking gosh i like this!!

Starbee in the making is awesome!!!!

And the name Blackstar is awesome!

I also love the royal family having last names they earn it makes it more personal & powerful & authentic!

Also bee’s love of human culture & human/cybertronian culture coexisting once more is awesome!

[qqueenofhades]

top ten non-fiction (general) books and top ten history books?

Naturally, whenever I volunteer to talk about books, I completely forget everything I have ever read, but we'll try to overcome this. Since it is impossible for me to pick them from all-time, I'll do this list from what I have recently read and enjoyed, including both nonfiction and history specifically since most of these fit that bill somehow:

Society of the Snow by Pablo Vierci. Just finished this last night, and it's the source material for the Netflix film of the same name, of the 1972 plane crash of an Uruguayan rugby team in the Andes and their incredible survival odyssey. If you've seen the film, you know how harrowing and also incredibly moving it is.

Pretty much anything by David Grann, including The Wager, Killers of the Flower Moon, Lost City of Z, etc. The Wager is his newest one, though people may have heard of Killers of the Flower Moon, but they're all good. He's up there with Erik Larson as one of my favorite writers of utterly gripping and novelistic nonfiction.

Speaking of Erik Larson: pretty much anything by, including Dead Wake, The Splendid and the Vile, In the Garden of Beasts, etc. Most people will have heard of and/or read Devil in the White City, but his other stuff is equally good. His newest, The Demon of Unrest, is a bit slower than some of the others IMHO, but it's also about the beginning of the Civil War and the crisis at Fort Sumter and is important reading in our current perilous moment.

Challenger: A True Story of Heroism and Disaster on the Edge of Space by Adam Higginbotham. A forensic and incredibly detailed history of the Challenger space shuttle disaster in 1986.

A Travel Guide to the Middle Ages, by Anthony Bale. This is an entertaining and readable introduction to mobility in the Middle Ages: who traveled, where they went, what they thought, and how they reacted and wrote about the other cultures they encountered, from both east and west. Definitely a good entry point for the layman who has heard the "medieval people never traveled/went anywhere" stereotype and knows it's wrong, but wants to know more HOW.

Into the Silence: Mallory, the Great War, and the Conquest of Everest by Wade Davis. Another incredibly detailed doorstopper history book that reads like a novel, exploring 19th-century British imperialism in Asia, the race to climb Mount Everest, the Great War, and more.

Emperor of Rome and SPQR by Mary Beard. These are both incredibly accessible starting points for studying Rome, written by a renowned classicist with a knack for making her historical material and concepts easy to understand and entertaining. Don't be put off by the length of either of these, as they read easily.

The Wide Wide Sea and The Kingdom of Ice by Hampton Sides. The former is his newest book, about the last voyage of Captain Cook, and the latter is my favorite of his other books, about the 19th-century USS Jeannette polar expedition. He is a writer of incredible skill, thoughtfulness, and detail in handling subjects of empire, exploration, colonialism, maritime history, and adventure.

Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty, by Patrick Raddon O'Keefe. A compelling, disturbing, mesmerizing, and infuriating account of the Sackler family, the creation of OxyContin, and the opioid epidemic in America.

Master Slave Husband Wife, by Ilyon Woo. Now, this one is a bit cheating since I haven't actually read it yet (it's on hold at the library), but it's won the Pulitzer Prize for history so I'm fairly sure it's going to be good. It's about 19th century slaves-turned-abolitionists William and Ellen Craft and their race- and gender-bending journey to freedom and anti-slavery activism.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

A very long but worthwhile read chronicling the liberal descent into antimask/vax madness and the doctors who led the charge.

The full article includes a wealth of helpful links I can't reasonably transfer. Follow the link to find them! I'll try to transfer as many images and videos as I can.

Emily Oster, Leana Wen, Ashish Jha, and Zeynep Tufekci Betray America

Public Health in America is having its Budd Dwyer moment.

We were told time and time again how crucial it was that Kamala Harris defeated Donald Trump this past November. Well, it was recently revealed that Harris' internal polling never showed her defeating Trump. Instead of retooling her campaign and doing what's necessary to defeat Donald Trump, even if it meant giving Wall Street the middle finger, Harris and the Democrat Party burned over a billion and a half dollars praising Dick Cheney and putting Donald Trump back in the White House - as well as leaving 65% of races uncontested nationwide, simply handed to the Republicans on a silver platter. Giving Oprah a million dollars, spending six figures to re-create a podcast set that resembled a dentist's waiting room, and countless other thoughtless grifts, made it clear that Kamala Harris and the Democrat Party were never serious about defeating Trump - a blatant insult to every liberal and Democrat voter that put their faith in the opposition party which insisted "democracy was on the ballot" as their Vice Presidential nominee livestreamed Sega Dreamcast games.

Now we all get to live with the consequences of such a horrific act of political irresponsibility and cowardice. David Gorski of Science Based Medicine, Walker Bragman of Important Context, and the Death Panel podcast have all done extensive breakdowns of how Trump's handpicked crusaders against vaccines and public health have a long history of getting countless children sick, hospitalized, disabled, and dead. This isn't an article about retreading the same territory as the above-mentioned outlets, which have covered these nominees and their long history of failures and moral depravity in excruciating detail.

What's most important about these appointees is what they all share - a dangerous combination of two traits: utterly incompetent and arrogantly dishonest. We are talking about scientifically illiterate narcissists who, when soundly rejected by the overwhelming consensus of their colleagues in medicine and science, as well as...reality, instead embraced sadistic billionaires such as Peter Thiel and the Koch oil dynasty, taking to social media to spread their message amongst right-wing cranks and contrarian media in the hopes of fooling Americans into embracing their unethical delusions. The fantasy of these inept contrarians being brave medical geniuses, censored by The Man, became a popular fiction amongst conservatives and conspiracy theorists across social media; adolescent fantasies of the brave Rebel Anti-Vax Alliance hero Luke Skywalker brandishing his fully erect lightsaber against the evil giga-vaxxed Lord Vader of the Galactic Public Health Empire.

Sadly, we are now watching liberals in journalism and academia begin to embrace and even endorse this depraved crankery in a total betrayal of the public that puts their trust in them, legitimizing the same old tired anti-vaccine crankery that has haunted us for centuries - at one point, smallpox was even advertised as harmless and beneficial. We are witnessing the beginning of a total rewriting of the history of the past five years, even when the facts are readily available, in order to push false equivalences or outright lies to grant legitimacy to the utterly illegitimate, just weeks before a second Trump Administration is set to be sworn into office. There is no excuse for such a gross violation of every professional and ethical standard in the world of medicine, science, and public health - yet liberals in academia and journalism are happy to openly engage in such obscene banjaxing.

Lobbyist Leana Wen and Economist Emily Oster Endorse RFK Jr. on Raw Milk, Fluoride, and Vaccine “Choice”

Take it from a cattle farmer with over a decade of hands-on experience shoveling manure: Unpasteurized or “raw” milk can make you very sick and possibly even kill you. (FDA) This is a well-documented, basic scientific fact that has been well-established for a very long time. (Wikipedia) Pasteurization is, essentially, the process of boiling milk in order to kill bacteria and other threats to human health, because humans are not cows - or bats. There are no meaningful health benefits to drinking "raw" milk, a frankly bullshit term that is an insult to any serious farmer. We are also now at a point where H5N1 is being detected in "raw" milk products, risking the start of another pandemic within our own borders. Dr. Noha Aboelata of Roots Community Health breaks this down in detail in a 30-minute briefing:

Potential head of the HHS under Donald Trump, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. - who has already gotten countless children killed from his anti-vaccine advocacy (Mother Jones) - pushes the imaginary health benefits of this garbage to his easily deluded audience. Unsurprisingly, liberal pundits like Leana Wen and Emily Oster are rushing to defend these sorts of "choices" using fraudulent data, just as much as they worked overtime to confuse parents about COVID-19, which has already killed and disabled many children; a fact that both paid opinion havers are still in serious denial of.

We previously profiled Leana Wen in January 2023, a Brookings Institute lobbyist and M.D. who has experienced the COVID-19 pandemic from the safety of her couch. We've also talked extensively about Emily Oster over the past two years: an economist with zero medical or scientific credentials and a long history of morally depraved garbage to her name - from claiming “it isn’t economical” to give Africa drugs to treat AIDS, (Forbes, Archived) to declaring that the right of pregnant women to drink alcohol (Twitter) is a feminist issue, to taking money from bloodsucking fascist Peter Thiel (Twitter) to publish fraudulent data in order to get countless children killed and disabled by COVID-19. These are not legitimate medical or scientific experts.

Both Emily Oster and Leana Wen took out opinion editorials (Oster in the New York Times, Wen in the Washington Post) recently citing the same JAMA Pediatrics study claiming that fluoride in drinking water is potentially a biohazard - using the racist, long-debunked concept of "Intelligence Quotient points," in order to legitimize Robert F. Kennedy's depraved conspiracy theories and baselessly attack one of the most effective public health initiatives in our lifetime. If you actually read this study for yourself, you will find the results to be…utterly inconclusive. Epidemiologist Abby Cartus breaks this down in extensive detail on her newsletter Closed Form. Wen and Oster think you are too inept to read for yourself and form your own conclusion from the reality that this single study is... worthless!

Why any self-respecting woman would carry water for a depraved, exploitative wretch who drove his wife to suicide by keeping a black book of all his affairs, rating each woman he had sex with based on how extreme a sex act he was able to perform with them, is utterly beyond belief - achieving absolutely nothing but completely destroying their own professional reputations in the process. If you truly hate yourself on this level, you're supposed to either seek professional help or drown out your sorrows with a bottle of whiskey in the privacy of your own home, instead of publicly humiliating yourself in service of an abusive, misogynistic creep that considers you subhuman for the unforgivable atrocity of having a uterus.

Unsurprisingly, Biden's final COVID-19 Czar Ashish Jha went to bat to endorse his fellow Brown University laptop class academic Emily Oster, writing on Twitter that this was merely a crisis of "public health messaging:"

"Great [Emily Oster] piece about how to do public health messaging better. Some public health experts believe the public can't handle nuance. That's nonsense. Talking to folks about the complexity of the evidence, tradeoffs, and strength of recommendations is good. Want to rebuild trust in public health? Treat the public as adults."

There is no "nuanced" argument legitimizing the selling of "raw milk" and other scam health products with serious public health risks, especially with a potential H5N1 pandemic on the horizon. It’s not “complex” to state that children should be vaccinated against COVID-19, and the overwhelming majority of pediatric COVID-19 deaths are in unvaccinated children. There are no meaningful “tradeoffs” for putting safe amounts of fluoride in water fountains. These are all basic scientific facts, and a large part of maturing into an adult is having to accept the reality of being told "no," and realizing when you're simply dead wrong. As Final COVID Czar under Joe Biden, Ashish Jha's primary goal was not to "treat the public as adults," but as bleeding piggy banks to be exploited for profit from unmitigated COVID-19 infections.

As a handpicked crusader for "privatizing the pandemic response," Ashish Jha oversaw millions of Americans winding up disabled by COVID-19, often losing their careers in the process - falling into poverty, homelessness, and deaths of despair. Women are disproportionately affected by Long COVID disability, and the messaging of the failed Harris campaign was that these women were to be abandoned (Twitter) and brutalized by the same police that the Biden-Harris administration diverted pandemic relief into buying more weapons and military toys for.

Ashish Jha smugly shrugged his shoulders and took out an opinion editorial telling everyone to "ignore COVID" whilst accepting prestigious awards. If we lived in a just society, he would be living out of a cardboard box under a freeway overpass, begging for pocket change. Unfortunately, we live in the world where the Brown University Dean of Public Health is comfortable making public endorsements of sadistic anti-vax cranks, such as Marty Makary and Jay Bhattacharya, to senior government positions.

Biden's COVID Czar Ashish Jha Endorses Mehmet Oz, Jay Bhattacharya & Marty Makary for CMS, NIH & FDA Directors You've likely heard a version of the phrase "if one Nazi is sitting at a table of a dozen people, you have a table of a dozen Nazis." The same is true of anti-vaxxers and their depraved ideals, which are often rooted in a naked embrace of fascist eugenics. You simply cannot find a "reasonable middle ground" or stake out some sort of enlightened "centrist" view that legitimizes the opinions of the arrogantly incompetent & dishonest, who champion pestilence whilst fearmongering about safe & effective vaccines for their own personal gain. By lending credence to these frauds, you establish your priorities: saving lives is less important than not hurting the feelings of sadistic cranks, or one's own personal comfort.

With a second Trump administration about to be sworn in, Democrats should be in open revolt that the Biden Administration left the COVID response in charge of anti-vax cheerleader Ashish Jha, who in a November 24th, 2024 post on Twitter wrote:

"I think [Marty Makary] at FDA, [Mehmet Oz] at CMS, and [Jay Bhattacharya] at NIH are all pretty reasonable...They are smart and experienced."

This is, undeniably and objectively, an absolute lie from the former Biden Administration official, similar to how Biden parroted the lies that Iraq had "weapons of mass destruction" as head of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in 2003. It shouldn't be surprising that rewarding failure only breeds more failures, even when a nation is gripped by a once-in-a-century pandemic disaster.

For starters, Mehmet Oz is a morally depraved quack celebrity doctor who once boldly proclaimed that the public has "no right to health," and has frequently abused his daytime television platform to peddle quack cures to exploit his elderly audience. If put in charge of the CMS, Oz's priority is privatizing Medicare and Medicaid so that he may profit from companies that he is personally invested in, leaving the elderly and disabled with substandard, privatized "Advantage" plans that do not cover essential medical needs - driving more American families to medical bankruptcy and begging strangers on GoFundMe to survive, or more likely: homelessness & deaths of despair.

This is what the Brown University Dean of Public Health, Ashish Jha, considers "pretty reasonable."

Marty Makary's claim to fame was as a cheerleader for nakedly embracing COVID-19, falsely proclaiming the end of the pandemic via "herd immunity" multiple times, starting in early 2021. In September 2021, he claimed that getting COVID-19 protects you from COVID-19 - try telling that to the countless American children who have had it half a dozen times already, and are losing their health, dreams, and futures as a consequence. When it became clear that this approach of nakedly embracing COVID-19 had obviously failed, disabling millions of Americans in the process, Makary took out an opinion editorial in the Wall Street Journal in December 2022, attacking Long COVID - claiming it was "long anxiety" on Fox News. The evidence is overwhelming at this point, and it all says that this supposed practitioner of "evidence-based medicine" was dead wrong and is too craven and pathetic to admit that he was dead wrong about the disease he simped for to millions of FOX News views.

Makary would also fearmonger about the COVID-19 vaccine, claiming that the disease - which has killed tens of millions worldwide, according to the Economist - is essentially harmless, while the vaccine is supposedly causing massive epidemics of myocarditis. Marty would falsely label COVID-19 as "omi-cold" and "nature's vaccine," both objectively false lies that got countless thousands of Americans killed and disabled in the winter of 2021-22. Makary openly celebrated parents not vaccinating their children against COVID-19; of the thousands of pediatric COVID-19 deaths in America, they were overwhelmingly unvaccinated. Their parents would likely prefer a child with a sore arm instead of a child who is now six feet under, in a coffin. Marty has never apologized to these parents or lifted a finger to help pay for the funerals of these children who have been forever silenced.

This is who Biden's COVID Czar, Ashish Jha, considers "smart."

Last but not least, we have Jha's endorsement of Jay Bhattacharya, a Stanford "health economist" who made bold proclamations about the alleged harmlessness of the SARS-CoV-2 virus from the comfort of his couch, taking money from the Koch oil dynasty - which has already funded an incredible amount of unscientific climate collapse denial propaganda as well as the "Tea Party" which would evolve into Trump's "MAGA" hordes - to champion a mass infection strategy for COVID-19 as it was overwhelming hospitals, driving some doctors and nurses to suicide. Bhattacharya was happy to openly demand millions of American teachers risk death and disability from COVID-19 in early 2020, long before a vaccine was available, in order to preserve “normalcy.” It’s worth noting that teaching is a predominantly female-dominated profession.

These sorts of Little Eichmanns (Wikipedia) have always existed in society in one form or another; morally depraved sadists desperate to play God with the lives of their supposed inferiors. They must always be condemned, combatted, and outright rejected by polite society. Instead, liberals like Ashish Jha are openly lying in public displays of support for these lecherous, vapid narcissists who can only derive self-worth via forcing suffering upon others.

Much like how the Third Reich was helmed by incompetent scam artists cooked to the gills with methamphetamines, Stanford's Jay Bhattacharya looked at the COVID-19 pandemic and his inability to do anything to treat COVID-19 patients & save lives - as he never bothered to put in the work to attain a medical license - and decided to make the largest mass death event in the history of the United States all about how he could promote the most important "health economist" in America: himself. Starting off 2020 by conducting a fraudulent seroprevalence study (Twitter) and publishing false conclusions, Smilin' Jay never bothered to stay grounded in reality whilst his fellow Americans were dying and being disabled by COVID-19. Jay's priorities were rooted in growing the public profile of Jay Bhattacharya, no matter how wrong he was or how many Americans he would get killed in his sycophancy for a deadly and disabling virus he refused to learn a single thing about.

Employed by Republican Governor Ron DeSantis, Jay Bhattacharya would get countless Floridians killed in 2021 by failing to vaccinate the population before the Delta variant struck, after boldly proclaiming that he "protected the vulnerable." Smilin' Jay never apologized for this failure, or his many others - and why would he? He's been generously rewarded for his loyalty to the SARS-CoV-2 virus, with liberals like Ashish Jha cheering him on. As part of his narcissistic fetish for spouting unscientific nonsense in front of any camera he could find, Jay Bhattacharya would also fearmonger about the COVID-19 vaccine, fearmongered about PPE, falsely portrayed himself as a victim of "censorship," falsely proclaimed getting COVID-19 protects you from COVID-19, openly embraced anti-vax conspiracy theorists, and even endorsed Canadian white nationalists whilst tweeting "Honk Honk" - a dogwhistle for Heil Hitler.

This is what Ashish Jha considers "experienced." This is who Biden and the Democrats put in charge of the final months of the COVID-19 response: a vocal supporter of abusive, scientifically illiterate anti-vax cranks that nakedly endorsed conspiracy theories whilst advertising pediatric illness as beneficial for your child’s health. If you voted for Biden in 2020 in the hopes that he would treat the very real domestic threat of COVID-19 more seriously than the blatantly false threat of a "smoking gun" from Saddam Hussein, you should be outraged: you have been made a fool of, and the anti-vaccine movement is now primed to unleash a torrent of pestilence upon you and your children via the federal government.

Liberal pundits, such as sociologist Zeynep Tufekci of the New York Times, are now working overtime to try and rewrite history - even if it means legitimizing anti-vax cranks like Jay Bhattacharya in a craven attempt to save face.

Desperate to establish herself as some sort of Enlightened COVID Centrist in "the paper of record," Zeynep was a vocal loyalist to the Biden Administration's vaccine-only strategy of mass infection from 2021 onwards. As the consequences of such a failed strategy came to light, such as COVID-19's negative impacts on the immune system - a well documented fact now in 2024 (PAI) - Zeynep would frequently cherry pick experts that validated her pro-viral opinions, and abuse her own platform to attack developing science in a failed crusade to falsely equate COVID-19 reinfections as "mild," on par with the common cold and influenza. This required endorsing obscene, unscientific views like "immunity debt," (PAI) a myth easily debunked by opening any Immunology 101 textbook.

The Pandemic Accountability Index will provide a full profile of the years of disinformation that Zeynep Tufekci peddled to the public in due time, but for now, it's worth noting that on November 27th, 2024, Sociologist Zeynep Tufekci would write an opinion editorial in the New York Times titled "Trump's Pick to Lead the N.I.H. Gets Some Things Right." Zeynep would open this drivel by making an objectively false statement that disqualifies anything which might come after:

"It's a welcome sign that, unlike many of Donald Trump's picks to lead parts of the nation's health system, his pick for director of the National Institutes of Health, Jay Bhattacharya, is actually qualified."

Fact Check! There is zero tradition of the National Institute of Health employing "health economists" such as Jay Bhattacharya, especially in a leadership position, and especially when they have a morally depraved history of making obscene claims like "health insurance encourages obesity." Jay is, by any serious definition of the term "qualified," utterly unqualified for the responsibilities of heading the NIH. We know this, because thanks to his previous experience under Ron DeSantis, he got countless Americans killed by COVID-19.

To pretend otherwise, one has to completely erase the history of Jay Bhattacharya's activities over the past five years. Zeynep Tufekci of the New York Times is either too dangerously incompetent to handle the responsibilities of medical journalism, or so utterly dishonest that one has to wonder if she's been contracted by the SARS-CoV-2 virus itself to function as a Public Relations spokesperson. This sure as hell has nothing to do with sociology, but this hasn't stopped Zeynep from asserting her supposed expertise on topics she clearly knows very little about.

Zeynep would also claim on Twitter that Bhattacharya "has made valid points about the pandemic;" mainly her insistence that SARS-CoV-2 must have come out of a laboratory, and that repeated COVID-19 infections are protective against... COVID-19. Zeynep is too scientifically illiterate and devoid of ethics to answer the very serious question raised by such "valid points:" if you seriously believed SARS-CoV-2 was designed in a lab, why would you take money from the Koch oil dynasty to argue that we should rapidly infect hundreds of millions of unvaccinated Americans, including children, with said lab-designed virus less than a year after it touched our shores, well before we had any comprehensive understanding of the harms it posed to the human body? Are working Americans and their children little more than lab rats?

Tufekci would also make more absurd, blatantly false claims in defense of Jay Bhattacharya via Twitter:

"[Jay's] dismissal as 'fringe' by public health authorities, and even censorship on social media, was unjustified and wrong. Not every point was completely wrong, and besides, they deserved addressing, not silencing. The public has a stake in such major decisions."

In reality, Jay Bhattacharya and his deranged ideals of letting COVID-19 ravage hundreds of millions of Americans well before a vaccine was widely available *was* addressed by an overwhelming consensus of scientists, doctors, and public health experts...in the fall of 2020. David Gorski for Science Based Medicine, Epidemiologists Abby Cartus & Justin Feldman with the Death Panel podcast, and countless other voices from experts around the world, including the Royal Bank of Canada Global Asset Management, published extensive rebuttals about such a horrific idea from the same mind that brought you "the thin are subsidizing the gluttony of the obese via health insurance premiums." Liberal pundit Zeynep Tufekci is outright lying and rewriting history, silencing critical voices in order to construct a false legitimacy to anti-vax social media grifter Jay Bhattacharya’s appointment to lead the NIH.

To claim that Jay Bhattacharya is an "unjustified" victim of "censorship" is a morally depraved and outright fictional statement. A laptop-class loudmouth being told "you're dead wrong" by doctors and scientists with real-world responsibilities isn't censorship. Privately owned social media networks, such as Twitter and YouTube, are entitled to moderate their platforms as they see fit and does not qualify as "censorship." Jay Bhattacharya isn't some oppressed dissident voice that the public needs to hear; to embrace his sage wisdom about how COVID-19 infections protect against COVID - Jay is backed by wealthy billionaires that have, for decades now, peddled the same unscientific propaganda that alleged liberal journalists like Zeynep Tufekci are supposed to vigilantly oppose - not launder - in the newspaper.

Every single "point" that Jay Bhattacharya has spouted about COVID-19 has been completely wrong, time and time again. This is a well-documented phenomenon, all across the Internet, because Smilin' Jay simply cannot shut his own goddamn mouth for five minutes. Yet again, Zeynep Tufekci of the New York Times thinks the general public is too incompetent to verify her outlandish claims in defense of a cruel, manipulative fraud that has incited violence against doctors and scientists that are tasked with actually saving lives.

In Closing People are rightfully afraid to fear of what might come to pass if America's federal public health apparatus is put in the hands of a gaggle of unscientific anti-vax cranks who already have the blood of countless Americans on their hands. It will be crucial for real experts to raise hell and get their teeth bloody in angrily rejecting whatever bullshit comes out of the mouths of these frauds - and guerilla, grassroots public health, in whatever form that may take, will become crucial to safeguarding the health and wellbeing of Americans over the next four years - especially that of our children. What we simply cannot do is embrace outright fiction in order to legitimize and empower bad actors that have long proven themselves utterly incapable of handling the real-world responsibilities of managing public health in America.

Every single liberal academic & pundit you see going to bat to endorse Trump's hand-picked social media sycophants - bloodthirsty zealots waging a crusade against public health and regulatory authority on behalf of their billionaire backers - is committing a grave act of treason against their fellow American, on behalf of a nefarious villain that dates back to the origins of human civilization. Countless thousands of years ago, ancient mythology was a tool to pass down essential knowledge from one generation to the next via oral tradition, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were no different. These are forces that have shattered human societies throughout our long and bloody history - War, Death, Famine, and yes, Pestilence - infectious diseases. This war that medicine has waged against disease has a long tradition; you can read up on the mother of modern medicine, Florence Nightengale, (PBS) on the importance of clean air in preventing the spread of disease, or Death in Hamburg (Internet Archive) on the class politics of pandemics - or read up on saboteurs in 1830 claiming that smallpox is a "New Year's Gift to the world." (Twitter)

As long as we have civilized society, we will always have this fight against infectious diseases, and those who insist we nakedly embrace them will never have your best interests in mind. This is a basic fact that any credentialed sociologist getting paid to write about public health should know quite well by now.

There is no good reason for any liberal to waste a drop of ink legitimizing these grandstanding carny hacks. Going forward, one has to wonder how liberal journalists & academics will help forward Trump’s crusade against public health.

We have a long four years ahead of us, and mainstream institutions like the New York Times will try again and again to rewrite history. The Pandemic Accountability Index refuses to let this pass, and only with your support is our archival work and reporting possible. If you haven’t already, please consider taking out a paid subscription or making a one-time donation.

[deramin2]

Essek constantly gushing about his partner but pointedly not giving his name hits me so hard in the feels.

Two formative childhood experiences for me:

ONE

I was severely, mercilessly bullied as a child at every school I went to even if they're was no overlap of kids, and authority figures either ignored me or directly told me it was my fault. I was socially toxic. Any other kid who publicly associated with me was also targeted for harassment. I was best friends with a girl around the corner but because I was a couple years younger (in itself an invitation for bullying) and a parish, we could never let anyone know we were friends.

I've been told I should be upset at her for this, but it wasn't her fault. It was the other children who made it a fact that she would be harmed by publicly being my friend. She didn't make those rules, we were both just honest that it existed and there was nothing we could do to change that. The best we could do to survive was at least protect her. And that benefited me by actually having a friend.

So if we talked about each other it was"my friend." No names. No acknowledging we knew each other in public. No introductions to other friends. Keeping that divide up was necessary to survival. I had a couple friends on the same freak level as we and we were in fact targeted with additional harassment to get to the other person. It was a legitimate threat to live with. At some point I just stopped thinking it was ever necessary to reveal who my friends or family are unless it's both explicitly relevant and necessary.

TWO

I learned to use the internet in the late 1990s when anonymity was considered a best practice. Don't give out your age, sex, location, or other identifying information. You don't know who is on the other side of that screen or what they will do to you if they know. Sperate your online and offline worlds to protect yourself.

This helped reinforce experience one because clearly adults also acted like those kids and this just normal human behavior no one will ever put a stop to that you need to be on guard for at all times. Build in air gaps so if one of you is compromised it's harder for the perpetrator to get to other people you care about. Defending them through anonymity is a way of showing you love them.

Also since some family are searchable through have state government jobs that right-wing nut jobs chips target them for, I wanted to make sure they couldn't be connected to me as a queer trans disabled person active online. In case something I said led to them being targeted.

(This is correct advice, even though it flies in the face of modern online conventions. There are tons of malicious people on three internet who will target you and anyone you love if they decide to hurt you.)

RESULT

By default, I refer to people by their relationship to me, not their name. My friend, my partner, my parent, my family, someone I know, etc. Often I avoid gendering them to make it even harder to identify them. I have to consciously consider if the person I'm talking to has any reason to know my associate's name. Blacklist everyone, then whitelist exceptions.

I do this even if both people know each other because the specific association feels dangerous. Better to be viewed as acquaintances than a meaningful relationship that changes how either of us could be viewed. It's not even really a judgement on thinking the person is untrustworthy, I just don't want to spend any extra energy thinking about it. It doesn't even feel relevant because my relationship to this person fellas like it conveys more information that actually matters.

ESSEK

Essek knows both he and Caleb are being targeted by powerful people who have shown they will target loved ones to get to them. Additionally, tensions between the Empire and Dynasty are still high and it could very easily compromise how their own sides view them if it's known that they're romantically entangled with someone from the other side. It could also blow each other's cover and make their meeting places more vulnerable to attack. Especially if their enemies know they could hit both of them at once.

It's genuinely dangerous for their connection to be known, so they don't name names. It's not even a matter of whether Bell's Hells would intentionally misuse that information, but what they also could just let slip to the wrong person. It's not really worth the risk when "my partner" is all the information they actually need to understand him.

My guess is that Essek said "Bren" is hiss partner because they already know a Bren sent them to Astrid. And since Caleb no longer uses the name Bren it would be much harder to connect them. It would have caused more questions, more prying, and more risk to give no name for his partner when directly pressed. So he gives a truthful but less dangerous answer. The anonymity is an act of love.