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nebulousbrainsoup · 1 year ago

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Insurrection

Chapter 1: Catalyst

⛧ SUMMARY: One choice, made to fan the flames of love, may be the spark to start a war. ⛧PAIRING: vampire!kang yeosang x hunter!reader ⛧GENRE: fantasy, angst (so much angst), smut ⛧AU/TROPE INFO: fantasy au, vampire au, forbidden lovers, hurt no comfort ⛧WORD COUNT: 4.8k ⛧TAGS/WARNINGS: major character death (i'm so sorry), blood, violence, lots of emotion, mental breakdowns, pet names ([my] love, darling, love, Sangie), protective!yunho and protective!yeosang, treating vampires as unseelie fae, not beta'd ⛧RATING: mature ⛧A/N: for @a1sh1teruu; happy christmas from your secret santa! very sorry i'm a few days late; life has been interesting lately and this baby got away from me! i hope i didn't go too hard on the angst you asked for, but i did ask for your hard limits and, uh... i'm an angst writer first and foremost. (if i did go overboard, please please let me know, and i will whip you up something warmer and fluffier.) this did begin as a standalone, but the lovely @kwanisms convinced me to make it a series, so here we are! there will be a few more installments; a prologue and at least one sequel. even if no one else does, zerda, i hope you enjoy this. much love, orion <3 ⛧ smut tags under the cut ; banner by momther ki (kwanisms) ⛧masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

⛧ SMUT TAGS/WARNINGS: sex as a distraction/coping mechanism, yeo has vampire speed and strength (don't look too close i didn't logic), sensitive pointy ears, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (boo), multiple orgasms (fem), pet names (Yeosangie, Sangie, baby, darling, love, my pretty girl ), mentions of exhibitionism & sharing if you squint, lack of aftercare bc they're both exhausted

In hindsight, perhaps you should have seen the signs. You had never seen Yeosang eat, no matter how many cafés you frequented together. He had been known throughout the village for his strange attire, the reverse of the seasons; he was covered from chin to fingertip to toe in the summers, while the dark winters found him showing a bit more skin. His pale complexion or the way he could throw you around in the bedroom without breaking a sweat may have given him away to you if you had paid closer attention. You hadn’t, though, and now you paid the price.

Your elders stood in a semicircle in front of you, stony faced, and your blood ran cold. Gideon glowered at you over the top of his steepled fingers, jaw tight.

“Kill or be killed, Y/N,” he spat, “the decision is yours. Kang Yeosang will not be able to protect you from us.”

It took every fiber of your being to hold back the shiver that threatened to tear down your spine. Your mind swirled as you bowed your head respectfully, hands clasped tightly in front of you. Something churned in your gut as you met his eye; whether or not his words would ring true was still to be determined, but you knew he and the rest of the council would try their absolute hardest.

“I understand, Elder Lewis. I will begin my preparations immediately,” you agreed, turning on your heel to see yourself out of the room. Three of the five sat straighter at your promise, one smiling proudly. You sighed in relief; so long as most of them believed you, you would survive the night. You could warn him and, if you were lucky, run.

For most, Yeosang and the rest of his coven were nearly impossible to find; he had told you some story ages ago, but now the secrecy made sense. Few were trusted with a map to their home, and you were thankful tonight to be one of those elites. Strategically placed vines guided you through the trees like flags, their leaves blending into the color of the evergreens’ needles to the untrained eye. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you hurried through the snow, fists clenched at your sides. The path was familiar and though time seemed to drag on in a blur, it felt like you arrived in seconds. The trees parted to a familiar, comforting sight; three cabins and a grand hall circled around a small clearing, and you beelined for Yeosang’s front door.

It was his roommate, Yunho, who opened the door and tried to greet you but you pushed past him, body and mind set on your comfort. You practically collapsed into Yeosang’s arms, a small, pained sound leaving you as he bundled you into his embrace. His quiet questions and murmured comforts were lost on you. Your mind was running at a thousand miles a minute, a million questions running through your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were vampires?” The first inquiry fell from your lips thoughtlessly, and you felt the air disappear from the room. Yunho’s footsteps halted where they were parting to allow you privacy, and you could feel the tension spike. The silence rang louder than any scream. “And don’t try to deny it; I’ve seen the evidence.”

“Who… how did you find this out, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, shoving him away from you and taking a step back. Behind you, you heard Yunho shift to his friend’s defense, but a sharp glare from Yeosang seemed to halt him. “I’m a hunter, Yeosang. You’ve known this; don’t play dumb. My elders showed me your files today,” you paused, turning over your shoulder to glance at Yunho. “All of ATEEZ’s files.”

You watched as the elder coiled like a spring, ready to strike, still pinned in place only by your boyfriend’s scathing stare. Silence once again stretched for what seemed like an eternity, heavy across your shoulders. Finally, Yeosang broke it.

“Leave us, Yunho.”

“Absolutely not.” The reply was immediate, the taller boy standing straighter, his chin high. “I’m not leaving you alone with a hunter.”

You scowled, hearing your boyfriend growl a warning. You knew his expression must match your own. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with my girlfriend alone.”

Yunho opened his mouth to speak again but this time, you were the one to silence him. “I understand your worry and I appreciate your drive to protect your coven. I am not here to hurt Yeosang; I am here to… to ask for help,” you admitted, turning back to glance at your lover. “I forgot to even grab my knife before I left, if I’m being honest.” Yeosang let out a strangled noise of protest, worry painting his face, and you held up a hand to keep him quiet. “The elders… Gideon gave me a choice today. Kill or be killed. And I… I don’t want to do either.”

You could see Yeosang’s heart breaking, the corner of his lips curling down and his brow furrowing. “Yunho, please,” he murmured, “let us figure this out.” He gave no response, but a moment later, you heard the front door click shut, and Yeosang was bundling you back up into his arms.

The moment you were alone, you shattered into pieces. You grasped his shirt in fists as tears flowed like waterfalls down your cheeks, his grip around you tightening like a vice. Sobs wracked your body violently, and you thanked the gods for Yeosang’s strength as, despite your knees buckling under you, you remained upright. He muttered quiet reassurances into your hair, hands running soothingly up and down your back.

When you calmed, he gently guided you back, eyes soft and open as he cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears from them. You screwed your eyes shut and gripped onto his wrists like a lifeline, willing a fresh wave of emotion back.

“It will be alright, my love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure it out together. You can stay here for as long as you like, and we’ll protect you like our own.”

You whined in protest, eyes blinking open slowly. Sniffling, you shook your head. “I can’t ask that of you. If I’m tracked down, they’ll kill you all too. Hongjoong wouldn’t be willing to take that risk for a simple little mortal, much less one who has trained her entire life to hunt and kill him. He would be crazy.”

Yeosang giggled quietly, smiling gently. “I think you’ll find he is a little crazy when the situation calls for it. He trusts you like one of us already; he allowed me to show you the path here. You will be welcome.”

Hesitantly, you nodded, resigned to accepting your lover’s offer. There was little else you could do. “I will need a few things from the stronghold. I can go back to gather them tonight, and return tomorrow.”

Peeking over your head and out the window, Yeosang frowned. It had been nearing nightfall when you had arrived, and the thought of you unarmed and stumbling through the dark forest unnerved him. He pulled you against his chest, carding a hand into your hair to scratch at your scalp.

“Stay with me tonight, love. Let this be the first night of our new lives together. Let me protect you.” You felt your shoulders relax with every word he spoke, a soft smile playing at your lips. He had already convinced you but he continued, eyes flickering down to your lips. “Let me distract you.”

You let your tongue flick out over your lips, drawing his attention back to them as you grinned. Hands slipping up his chest, you pressed closer to him. “What better way to spend our first night together?”

Yeosang grinned, tugging you in to crash your lips together. You hummed happily as you melted against him, one arm draping over his shoulder while the other carded into the hair at his nape. He held you to him tightly still, sighing against your mouth as you melted against him.

“Take me to bed, Yeosangie,” you muttered when you parted for breath, and he was more than happy to oblige. Strong arms braced under your thighs and lifted you in one fluid motion. Before you had time to think, you were in his room with your back pressed to the mattress, and you let out a squeak of surprise. Your lover was grinning at you when you pulled away. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I assume you’ll be using all of your fancy vampire powers at every turn, hm?”

“Maybe not all of them,” he teased, pressing kisses up your jaw. “I’ll only bite if you ask nicely,” he purred into your ear, his silky baritone sending a shudder down your spine.

You whined, tugging him back up by his hair to lock your lips, legs wrapping around his middle to pull him impossibly closer. He groaned, low and broken, as you ground against him, losing himself for a moment before he pinned your hips down to the bed.

“Tonight is all about you, my love,” he hummed, hands running down your thighs as he sat back on his knees. You pouted up at him and he couldn’t help but grin, kneading at the soft flesh under his fingers. “I’m going to take my time with you and savor this. No more quick nights at the tavern, hm?”

You shuddered under his touch, eyes flickering to the door. “What about Yunho?”

The grin on Yeosang’s face was purely wicked and heat ran through your body. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure the whole coven can hear you.”

Despite his promise to take his time, Yeosang stripped you down quickly, tugging your shirt off and trousers down to leave you in only your undergarments. The moment he could, he leaned down, nipping at your inner thigh and grinning triumphantly at the sound it pulled from you. His lips quickly found their way to your throat as he let your legs fall in favor of slotting himself between them, lips attaching themselves to your throat. The drag of his teeth over your pulse had you whining into his ear, breath ghosting over the subtly pointed tip. It was Yeosang’s turn to shudder, all of his blood rushing south at the feeling. He sighed, burying his head against your shoulder as he gathered himself.

Or tried to, because a moment later, you were tucking his hair behind his ear, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin, and he was choking back a moan. “C-Careful,” he muttered, reaching up to grab your wrist and halt you. “They’re sensitive.”

“I don’t see the issue,” you hummed, drawing his gaze back up. You were grinning down at him and it was a pretty sight, but the mischief twinkling in your eyes had Yeosang wanting to wipe it from your face.

Pinning your wrist to the bed, he slipped down your body at lightning speed, face level with your clothed core. In an instant, his tongue was pressed against you, and you let out a choked shout at the wet warmth that joined your own arousal. Yeosang grinned proudly once more, letting his teeth graze lightly over your heat as he sat back. That particular friction was foreign but pleasant, pulling a pretty little whimper from you.

“Do you still not see the issue with playing with sensitive areas, love, or shall I continue?”

Not one to be upstaged, you huffed a sigh, the corner of your mouth ticking up in a grin. “I don’t think I quite get it.”

Yeosang chuckled, leaning back to lap a stripe up your thigh. Nipping at your hip, he slowly began a path up your body, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You sighed, the sound like music to his ears as you turned to putty beneath his hands.

Your bra was the next garment to leave your body, tossed carelessly to the side as his mouth descended on your chest, lips quickly closing around your peaked nipple. One hand bracing himself, the other lit a contrastingly cool trail down your torso, coming to rest over your underwear. A quiet squeak left you and you squirmed under him, his icy fingers bringing a delicious new sensation to your warm arousal while his lips worked over your other breast.

“Sangie,” you gasped out, one hand tangling into his hair and tugging encouragingly. “More, please.”

Chuckling lowly against your skin, he obliged, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side to slide his fingers through your wetness. You whined and writhed under him, hips seeking further stimulation—this wasn’t enough. The pad of his finger circled your clit and you jolted, a pitched whine leaving you that had Yeosang’s control snapping in an instant.

He needed more, and he needed it now. More of you, more of your lovely little sounds, more of your warm body pressed against his cold one.

Pulling back from your chest with a wet noise, he sat back on his heels, tugging his shirt off and tossing it away from him. Your remaining undergarment was pulled off and discarded as he stood, quickly ridding himself of his final layers, too. He drank you in with a gaze that made you feel like prey, delicate and helpless underneath the ancient power that coursed through his veins. Pride swelled in his chest as he took in your open-mouthed, hungry stare. He chuckled to himself and ran a hand across his broad chest, letting you drink in the sight of him. His grin only spread as he watched you turn away from him, shy.

“My pretty girl,” he hummed, running his fingers up the insides of your thighs as he settled between them again.

Your pretty little whine had him preening as he lowered himself to your core, grinning up at you. Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he held eye contact and sighed against you as you shuddered, before his tongue flicked out to tease at your slit. He delighted in the way your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you urged him closer. His sharp, calculated gaze remained on you as he flattened his tongue against you, humming happily at the taste of you. His eyes rolled back in his head, finally slipping shut as he began to lose himself in the ecstasy that was your essence.

Your sounds only grew as he began to eat you out in earnest and they went straight to his cock; Yeosang found himself rutting into the mattress within minutes, desperate to find any amount of friction. His pride fell to the wayside as he gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, fucking his tongue into you with fervor. He barely came up for air as he buried his face in your pussy, pleasured moans leaving him as he chased both of your peaks. Your tugging on his hair was what brought him back into his mind and, though he shot you a glare, his fingers quickly replaced his mouth.

You were gasping for breath as he sat upright, grinning proudly while your legs dropped to rest over his elbows. “What’s the matter, love?”

“C-Can’t, g’nna cum,” you gasped, hands coming to rest over his biceps as you melted back into the mattress.

“Oh, well if that’s all,” he hummed, slowly lowering himself back down. You whimpered, hands tangling back into his hair at the warmth of his tongue and the chill of his fingers, but gave no further sounds of protest as he dove back into you. Within seconds, your legs were clamping down around his ears and he was opening his eyes, drinking in the sight of your ecstasy as he worked you over the edge. With one final suck to your clit, he sat back on his heels and drank in the whine that left you, sighing happily.

“Gods above, you taste good,” he murmured, licking his lips hungrily.

“Yeosang,” you whined, hands clawing up his arms to pull him close, “need you baby, please.”

“Need what?” He grinned, shifting up to cage you in completely, his cockhead teasing at your folds. You whine, shifting lower, and he clicked his tongue as one hand came to rest over your throat, stilling your movements.

You whined, blinking up at him with wide, doe eyes, and he had to bite back a growl. “Your cock, Sangie, please.”

He grinned down at you devilishly as he pressed into you, drinking down every whine and moan that spilled from your mouth as he sealed his lips with your own. When he was finally sheathed within your warmth, he sighed happily and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his and he felt secure, safe, as he began a slow and deliberate pace.

“So long as you’re mine,” he whispered against your skin, his speed building. “I will protect you. What is mine is the coven’s and what is the coven’s is mine.” You clenched around him, and he groaned lowly, his eyes squeezing shut. “We keep our own safe.”

You clung to him like a lifeline, the air crackling electric between you as you climbed to your second peak at record speed. The way his speed built in tandem with the passion of his words had you squirming, clawing for him. He shuddered, too, as your walls spasmed around him, his own orgasm catching him by surprise. He sat up straight and sheathed himself in you fully as you both rode out the waves of pleasure, his hips rolling in tiny circles to prolong it.

With one last kiss to your forehead, he pulled himself from you and collapsed to your side. He gave himself to the count of ten to bask in the warmth as he felt himself quickly falling into the meditative state he considered “sleep,” emerging from the brink of it to clean you. You sighed, basking in the attention, and Yeosang’s heart skipped a beat as he crawled back into bed with you—tired, cuddly, smiling, perfect you. He prayed you were asleep as he whispered into your hair.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hid your grin in his chest and fell asleep in his arms.

When you awoke in a bed that was not your own, the curtains around you pulled shut, you startled. Yeosang was laid next to you reading, and as you stirred, he glanced up from his page. “Good morning, darling.”

You smiled, turning over to press a kiss to his cheek, grinning when he flushed and turned back to his book. “Good morning, Sangie. What time is it?”

“Just after sunrise.”

Huffing, you pushed yourself up from the bed. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late. I’ll have to hope no one has a route in this direction today,” you muttered as you went about gathering your clothes, strewn about the room. “And that no one decided to hang around near my room.”

Yeosang set his book aside, frowning. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will do no such thing, Kang Yeosang,” you protested, continuing on before he could speak. “The moment you are within firing distance of the castle, the elders will see you taken out. Stay here and speak to Hongjoong; I’ll only be gone a few hours.” He frowned deeply, eyes tracking your movements carefully as you tugged back the curtains an inch. “It’s bright out today, anyway. You wouldn’t be very comfortable past the treeline.”

The fight was over before it had really started, logic winning out over Yeosang’s protective nature. You were right; in the full sun of the day, with the snow reflecting it back up at him, he would be weak. Not only would protecting you be a challenge, his presence might hinder the speed of your mission.

“Alright. I’ll speak with Hongjoong. I’ll give you until noon to be back before I start looking for you.” Grinning, you bounced back across the room, leaning down to press a kiss to Yeosang’s lips. He hummed happily as he carded a hand into your hair, gently tugging you back for more.

With a hand on his shoulder, you kept him at bay, chuckling quietly to yourself. “You had enough of me last night, love. You can have more tonight, but you have to let me go get my belongings.”

The sigh that left him was half-hearted at best, and you huffed another breath of laughter. “Fine. Be safe and hurry back.”

“I will.”

As the door shut behind you, something unsettling stirred in his gut. For inexplicable reasons, he felt as though you were lying.

“Yunho, you met this girl. Can we trust her?” Hongjoong questioned, folding his hands neatly in his lap as he leaned back in his chair. He looked relaxed, at ease in the safety of his own chambers, only the twitching of his jaw giving away his current inner turmoil.

The man in question thought for a moment, shrugging and giving a small nod. “I think Yeosang coming back in one piece today is a pretty good sign.”

He nodded slowly, mulling the request over. It was a great risk for the coven to take in a mortal, both to the mortal and the coven. Word had spread on one occasion they did such a thing, and they had been forced to move rather abruptly. Y/N’s upbringing as a monster hunter added another convoluted layer to the whole ordeal; she could be playing them to spy for her order or, if they truly were on the hunt for her, she could end up getting them all killed. But no matter how stoic and strict he may look to outsiders, Hongjoong had an undeniable soft spot for his coven. So, as Yeosang stood there, a determined and pleading look on his face, the elder vampire caved.

“Fine. But let her know that she will be expected to pull her weight. She can stay with you and Yunho until we figure out other living arrangements,” he conceded, huffing an annoyed sigh that held little weight. “Now go tell the others.”

Yeosang beamed, practically bouncing toward the door and flinging it open. Wooyoung, who had just started up the front porch steps, startled and fell back against San.

“Y/N is coming to live with us!” He blurted out, and the pair shared a confused look. “It’s a whole long story. Speaking of, have either of you seen her? I can’t wait to tell her.”

Wooyoung recovered before San did, blinking back into himself and sharing a bright smile with his friend. “That’s great! I can’t wait for her to meet everyone else. Sannie, I think you’ll really like her. I haven’t seen her around today; is she here?”

“She went to gather her things from the hunters’ stronghold. She should be back any minute.” Something unpleasant coiled in Yeosang’s gut, and he frowned. “You didn’t happen to see any hunters on your way back in, did you?”

San and Wooyoung shared a look that had Yeosang’s blood running cold. “We did,” San confirmed. “They were headed away from here, though. We didn’t bother with them.”

Behind him, someone stirred, and Yeosang spun on his heel, eyes pleading with Hongjoong as he approached. “She said she’d be in danger if she ran into other hunters. We have to look for her.”

Resolutely, Hongjoong nodded, turning back over his shoulder. “Yunho, get Jongho. San, Wooyoung, go get Seonghwa and Mingi. We’ll head toward their stronghold and work outward—stay in pairs, stay out of sight, and do not eng—”

Before the leader could finish his sentence, a sharp scream echoed through the forest, and Yeosang’s eyes widened. He went rigid for a moment, keen ears twitching as they scanned the forest, tracking the echoes until he could pinpoint a near exact location of origin. He was moving before he could think, dashing down the path and into the treeline. Dodging trees and leaping over fallen branches as he tore through the brush, the warning shouts of his coven fell on deaf ears. They would follow, he knew. He only slowed for a moment when he caught the scent of your blood in the air, tripping over his own feet before pushing forward with even more purpose.

In hindsight, he should have realized that your familiar yell was not one of fear, as he had been so worried about. He should have taken even a moment to breathe.

You were still upright when he barreled into the clearing, wrestling with another hunter for what looked to be a blade. Your face was twisted in a grimace, desperation and anger marring the features he was so used to seeing alight with joy. He called your name and you turned, the panic-stricken look you sent him sending confusion and hurt lancing through him. He was here to help; shouldn’t you be happy to see him?

In hindsight, he should have realized why your cry was so familiar to his ears. Maybe he would have registered that it had been full of pure, white-hot rage; the same rage you directed at him during your first meeting.

Time slowed, and with the snap of a wire, Yeosang understood.

The bolt burned as it pierced through his ribs, and his vision went white with the pain as he toppled forward, falling to his hands and knees with a shout of his own. This time, there was pain in your exclamation; he couldn’t quite make out the words, but he heard the break in your voice that he knew, all too well, meant tears were brimming. He tasted iron as he coughed, distantly registering the shadow of black that splattered the snow in front of him.

It had been a while since he’d seen his own blood.

More shouts echoed as he fell to his knees, vision going black for a moment. When his sight returned, you were in front of him, and Yeosang’s brow furrowed. Humans like you, as far as he knew, couldn’t move that fast. He glanced over your shoulder, gasping—when had the coven gotten here?

Another blink, and he was on his back, staring up at your distressingly heartbroken expression. Your hands cupped his cheeks for a beat, and he melted into the fleeting feeling, grumbling in disapproval as they streaked down his neck to his sides. About halfway to his hips, they stopped, and the pain that sparked through him had him coming back to his senses, a shout choked behind his teeth.

“Leave it,” he hissed, and you made a pained noise. The iron crossbow bolt had embedded itself firmly and, despite his protests, you gave it another tug. This time, Yeosang shouted, bolting upright and batting your hand away from him. “Barbed,” he croaked, falling back to his hands and knees. “You’ll rip me up if you take it out.”

“And it’ll poison you slowly if I don’t,” you urged, reaching for him. “You can heal the injuries, please.”

Yeosang frowned deeply, eyes squeezing shut as he took stock of his body. “Not… quickly enough.”

“Please let me try,” you begged, hand settling below his wound. “Please give yourself a chance. Let me give you a chance, Yeosang, please.”

Oh, how weak he was for you.

Swallowing thickly, he screwed his eyes shut and nodded, rolling once more onto his back with a wince. “If it pleases you.”

“None of this pleases me,” you shot back, choking on a sob around your words. Your grip solid around the arrow’s shaft, you gave a strong tug, and Yeosang shouted through gritted teeth as it came free. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry,” you breathed, cupping his face.

“No more… apologies. This is not your fault,” he muttered between coughs. His mouth felt wetter than usual and he turned, dizzy as he watched more black mar the white ground. “Oh.”

“Stay still, Sangie, please, let your magic work. Don’t make things worse. Just… stay here. It’ll be okay.”

You didn’t sound sure. Yeosang huffed a laugh, coughed. “I won’t heal… fast enough,” he muttered, rolling once more onto his back. “H’ngjoong s-said… You can stay with us. Make sure he keeps… ‘s word.”

His eyes fluttered shut. He was so tired all of a sudden. Distantly, he could hear you calling to him, could feel your hands on his cheeks. He smiled, leaning into the warmth of your palms, a stark contrast to the chill surrounding him. The world was turning to white noise; Yeosang sighed.

One voice, familiar and filled with venom, cut through the roar. He was just used to listening for his Captain, after all, and he heard him clear as day now.

“You have just declared a war.”

Everything went quiet.

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methed-up-marxist · 5 months ago

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War is Hell! Peace is Better? If We Want to Stop the War, We'll Have to End the Peace!

As probably just about everyone here today knows, everyday life in peacetime is deadly for people all over the world. Many people die but many more survive for living deaths -- lives without hopes or dreams. There’s a connection between the deaths of peace and the deaths of war. The war deaths are intended, in part, to teach the survivors to put up with the living deaths of peace. Missiles and bombs from high in the sky that leave only blood and ashes are intended to teach us all that resistance is futile and that there is no power able to challenge those with the weapons. Their power is indeed impressive. But, we would do well to understand why they are willing to use it for such barbarous purposes. We’d suggest that our rulers are desperate to find a way to keep things the way they are -- simply enough, the maintenance of capitalism round the world. Their desperation results from the fact that the order they wish to preserve has outlived its usefulness and that political and economic crisis has become all but permanent. In spite of lots of evidence to the contrary, there is a power that can challenge theirs. But, for almost thirty years, resistance to their power in the United States has largely taken the form of small acts of refusal and rebellion. In spite of the hopefulness that such resistance can inspire, it has failed to reverse a devastating series of setbacks. The challenge of the day demands that small acts of refusal and rebellion become grand insurgencies. Who are the potential grand rebels? Soldiers, sailors, prisoners, illegal immigrants, sex workers, drug addicts, people with AIDS, fast food workers, truck drivers and health care workers, students who are taught nothing and students who are taught foolishness, and many more. We need to move from insubordination to mutinies and desertions, from sickouts and sabotage to sit-ins and takeovers, from protests to insurrections. Those who oppose war can assist in the development of those insurgencies by acting as one with all those who have pressing reasons to refuse to go along with everyday exploitation and degradation. Acting as one with them will demand that we abandon all notions that they are victims in need of our help or claimants on the government’s benevolence. They are fighters for the future and we should be with them on the frontlines. The specifics of our roles and responsibilities will become clear as fists are raised high and chains are broken. The danger of war demands the danger of action to end the peace that makes war inevitable.

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quasi-normalcy · 10 months ago

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Why Deep Space Nine wasn't as popular as the other 90s Star Treks when it aired

So I keep seeing this one kind of conspiratorial text post circulating around which asserts that Deep Space Nine wasn't as popular as the other Star Trek series from the 90s because Rick Berman hated it and deliberately sabotaged it, and also (somehow) marginalized references to it in canon even decades after he stopped having absolutely anything to do with the franchise and just...no. Like, I have no idea how Rick Berman personally felt about Deep Space Nine, but what I do know is that he co-created it and executive produced it and basically ran the entire Star Trek franchise during the 90s, so if he *really* hated what it was doing, he could have just put his foot down and stopped it. Moreover, he didn't marginalize references to Deep Space Nine in canon; Voyager getting into contact with the Alpha Quadrant and learning that the Maquis had been exterminated by the Dominion (something that happened on Deep Space Nine) was one of the very few plot points on that series to have repercussions for more than an episode; First Contact featured the Defiant; both Insurrection and Nemesis have references to the Dominion War. The post is reacting against a problem that doesn't really exist.

But it does raise the question: why *wasn't* Deep Space Nine popular when it aired? And I think that the answer might be difficult for people who weren't alive and conscious during the 1990s to understand, so I'm going to try to lay out the reasons:

Serialization was only just becoming a thing on adult American television: I know that this might sound a bit difficult to believe now, but there was a time when networks really hated serialization and, with context, it's not too hard to understand why. In the 1990s, there was no streaming; there weren't even any DVD sets. Any given episode aired once at a designated time. If you missed that time, then your options were to wait until it was rerun a few weeks later, or again during the summer (and the networks would often air reruns out of order, so good fucking luck with that), or to hope that one of your friends had recorded it on a VHS tape. Otherwise, you just couldn't see it. Even worse than that, networks could arbitrarily pre-empt their own programming. Like, "Oh, you wanted to watch Star Trek? Well a baseball game just went into overtime and it brings in ten times as many viewers. Hopefully you won't find it too jarring if we just begin half an hour into the episode." So you can understand why this would have a knock-on effect on serialised storytelling; if you've missed one episode, and the subsequent stories depend on plot points from the episode, then you're just going to be confused. But even beyond that, if you're not used to serialization as an audience, then you're not going to be on the look-out for context clues. "Oh, that alien just told Quark about something called 'the Dominion'? Oh that sounds important--oh, wait, no, they got to the end of the episode and nothing happened with it. I guess it wasn't important after all."

The Star Trek name: This one seems a bit counterintuitive, because of course the name should be a draw to fans of the other series, but you have to remember that, at the time in question, the franchise consisted only of the original series and movies and the first six and a half seasons of TNG. Now, these differed in several ways, but what they had in common is that they were all about a bunch of moral paragons who flew around in space in shiny starships, having episodic adventures. That was what Star Trek was. And then you got a new series about a bunch of morally compromised characters who sat still in space on a gungy old space station having serialised adventures. It's not the same thing, and so a lot of people who wanted the first thing tuned out (which was, in fact, why Voyager had to be created), whereas a lot of people who wanted the second thing might not have tuned in because they figured it would be the first thing. And this of course brings us to the third reason:

Babylon 5: So stop me if you've heard this one before: it's a serialized drama from the 1990s all about a bunch of humans and aliens having to coexist on a space station as they navigate diplomatic crises and gradually become enmeshed in an elaborate space opera story arc. It features a race of aliens who can be called "highly spiritual", a race of aliens who have recently overthrown a decades-long brutal occupation of their homeworld by a crumbling and overstretched empire, a race of aliens who are often mistaken for gods (and who cultivate this misconception), and a mysterious new threat emerging onto the galactic scene, eventually culminating in a seasons-long war arc. I am of course describing J. Michael Straczynski's science fiction masterpiece Bablyon 5, which he, and a great many of his fans, regarded (and not without reason) as having been ripped off and pre-empted by Paramount in the form of Deep Space Nine. Now, looking at the evidence, I personally think that most of the similarities between these series are a sort of convergent evolution; but, whatever your opinion on the matter, the fact remains that these two fandoms hated each other during the 1990s. And the net effect of this was that a bunch of SF nerds who would probably have really liked DS9 if they had gotten to see it never watched it at all as a matter of principle because as far as they were concerned, its very existence was a corporate ploy to bully an upstart rival out of business.

Anyways, for all of these reasons, it's not remarkable to me that Deep Space Nine never became as popular as TNG and Voyager; and because it wasn't as popular, it makes sense that Paramount would be more circumspect about greenlighting Picard-style sequels or Lower Decks or Prodigy-style spinoffs to it (and indeed, I'm not convinced that all of the writers have even seen it). But I think that it is a testament to just how good DS9 was that it still managed to get the same seven seasons, even if it never drew in the same audience

#star trek deep space nine #star trek deep space 9 #ds9 #star trek voyager #star trek the next generation #babylon 5

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wc-confessions · 4 months ago

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Hello, it’s xenofic recs anon again! Please check this link for the previous list; there’s a lot of books here: https://www.tumblr.com/wc-confessions/753648281346801664/heres-a-rapid-fire-list-of-non-warriors?source=share.

I made an error with The Secret of NIMH, it’s a trilogy, not a single book! I learned that Silverwing has a TV show, too. I’m also changing my method to save time. If a novel interests you, I suggest searching it up.

In exchange, I’ll clarify my goal in sending these recommendations. I do it because I want xenofiction to grow. I want people to realize there are plenty of series out there. If you end up liking a series more than Warriors, good for you! If you end up disliking a series more than Warriors, good for you! I want to invite constructive discussions surrounding xenofiction as a whole. You aren’t better for not reading Warriors just like how you aren’t better for reading only Warriors. These asks come from a love of xenofiction and wanting to spread the word. I am in no way attempting to show malice towards Warriors or uncritical favoritism towards the series I list.

The Guardian Herd series by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez.

The Gryphon Insurrection series by K. Vale Nagle.

The Council of Cats by R. J. F.

Swordbird series by Nancy Yi Fan.

Strong Hearts are Mandatory series by Teelia Pelletier. Hey, did you know the song Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles? Throw some cats in there!

Hunter’s Moon: A Story of Foxes by Garry Kilworth.

Darkeye series by Lydia West.

Prehistoria: The Raptor’s Tail by Jack Blackburn. One book but seemingly a future series.

Raven Quest by Sharon Stewart.

The Tales from Veynekan series by Fiona Jade Thornburg.

The Dogs of the Spires series by Ethan Summers.

Skytalons series, The Wolves of Elementia series, and Griffin Quest series by Sophie Torro. Fun fact: the author used to be Warriors Unlimited, and she published her first book, Cornelius’ Curse, at 16!

The Wildings series by Nilanjana Roy.

War Bunny Chronicles series by Christopher St. John.

Hunters Universe series, more commonly known as Hunters Unlucky, by Abigail Hilton.

This is all I have for now. To cap this off, I want to give a shout-out to @/drive-pdfs-and-stuff. They have resources for those who are unable to pay for novels. I’ll appear again when I have more to show!

‎

#confession

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nesiacha · 4 months ago

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During the night of September 9 to 10, 1796: The Affair of the Grenelle Camp

Attaque du camp de Grenelle par des conspirateurs : le 24 Fructidor, An 4.eme de la République. Paris, BnF, département des estampes et de la photographie, 1802.

Hundreds of people, including a number of Babouvists, headed towards the Grenelle camp to try to incite the garrison to revolt. It didn’t work, and they were killed. The survivors and others identified as Babouvists would later be judged by a military commission, which, according to historian Jean-Marc Schiappa, appeared quite illegal, and whose judgments would eventually be overturned.

Here is a text excerpt from Schiappa: "Unlike the events of Prairial Year III, Vendémiaire Year IV, or the mutiny of the Police Legion, no real threat (in the military sense) existed here. Military means were used to crush a political opposition that had demonstrated it was disarmed. This is a form of coup d'état, the first in a long series under the Directory."

The most famous people executed were General Maximilien Henri Nicolas Jacob and three former convention members: Claude Javogues (apparently shot while singing the Marseillaise), Joseph-Marie Cusset (one of the last ‘Crêtois’), and Marc-Antoine Huguet. Among those sentenced to death were the former mayor Antoine-Marie Bertrand (despite several favorable testimonies on his behalf, apparently) and the painter Jean-Nicolas-Victor Gagnant. In total, around 30 people were executed by firing squad.

Here is an excerpt from historian Jean Tulard: "The Affair of the Grenelle Camp is the decisive episode of the Conspiracy of the Equals, led by Gracchus Babeuf. This former feudalist, who dreamed of an agrarian communism, was preparing a plot in collaboration with former Montagnards. After the failure of the Germinal and Prairial uprisings of Year III (April 1 and May 20, 1795), it was necessary to abandon the idea of a popular uprising because the suburbs were disarmed. The Babouvists, who had made contacts within a force responsible for maintaining order in Paris—the Police Legion—hoped for a military uprising in the Grenelle camp against the Directory. The denunciation by Grisel, an officer involved in the conspiracy, allowed the Minister of Police, Cochon de Lapparent, to orchestrate a massive crackdown on the 21st of Floréal Year IV (May 10, 1796). Babeuf and his key accomplices were arrested. The last supporters of the Equals tried, during the night of 23 to 24 Fructidor (September 9-10), to incite the soldiers of the Grenelle camp to revolt. Carnot, a member of the Directory at the time, and Cochon de Lapparent allowed the insurrection to develop before deploying the cavalry. Several people were killed on the spot, and thirty were executed. Babouvism was crushed. Its missteps, especially in the Grenelle affair where it was manipulated by provocateurs, were harshly criticized by Marx."

I will conclude with a quote from Jean-Marc Schiappa: "The coup at Grenelle is measurable: the Directory developed a taste for the army, and the sword that Sieyès would seek in Brumaire had already struck," and he adds, "the episode at Grenelle is also a turning point in the history of the Directory"

P.S: What I find in Gallica Trial of twenty-five individuals from the Grenelle Camp affair but it is in french sorry :( https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k41290c/f4.item

#frev #french revolution #babouvism #directory #carnot #babeuf #history

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flamsinger · 4 months ago

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Emin fanart

Fanart of a character from Vale's book series, gryphon insurrection. This is Emin after becoming a seraph!

Posted using PostyBirb

#Emin #Seraph #Seraph King #Opinicus #Gryphon Insurrection #Fanart

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warsamongthestars · 4 months ago

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How to do I view TCWs Bad Batch...

Cos its not a secret that its personal. All this, comes from a personal place, even if its cut down to snark, rage, or just plain analysis. Personal motivations are the best motivators after all.

We start with the set up.

They are, by all accounts, set up to be the odd ones out. If there are weird mutant clones, these are the guys. If you're looking for the super special awesome squad made of underdogs, its them.

( As the former Weird Kid from childhood, who later grew up into the weird adult, I immediately grew attached to them. I broke the Jedi code folks, please don't kick me off the council Mister Windu )

And from there, it all became very complex, and yet, so simple. Because when you've been there, you get it.

Now we start with the perspectives.

So I saw...

... The Bad Batch as those who teeter on the edge of wanting normalcy whilst also rejecting convention. These boys have been rejected for things all their life, from appearance, to skills, to attitudes, to innate abilities and to simply not fitting in / being regulation.

Crosshair is the one who learned to strike first, and the first strike should be the final strike. He's the confrontational one. (Very in line with his sniper job). If you strike first and its always the mortal blow, you avoid getting struck. ( This doesn't work, because he's a verbal lasher, and that hasn't killed anyone yet--so he'd get a punch to the face and invite combat among allies )

Tech is the one who learned to back down and be unconfrontational one. Let the aggression pass, it is temporary. This has probably cost him with injury and items stolen from confrontation (because if someone wants to make a problem, they will make a problem and they will do it to the easiest target).

Wrecker is the boisterous one. He wants to directly fit in so things are either not a big deal or he exaggerates to a point where its become habit (a simple fear of heights becomes a ridiculous series of panics straight out of a cartoon that even Tech rolls his eyes over). In this way, he's a kind of people pleaser who needs to find excuses to confront people he has a problem with.

Hunter is the quiet one who wants to given space to process. But is never given time. To him, people are complicated and he needs time to puzzle them out, but at the same time, he's still trying to puzzle himself out. So everything either comes out as a sarcasm or it comes out as anxiety, because in truth, he's not sure how to react to situations and was never given the communication or time to develop that understanding--and has to practice based on experience [ CF99's plan system ] because otherwise he gets overwhelmed with him. ( But in such lack of processing, the stuff he has had time to process? He can weave through fluently and adaptively. He knows not to give more information than is necessary even in friendly conversation with strangers, because he knows the effect it would cause. )

The word "Hyperempathy" comes to mind.

But in such additions...

CF99 as a whole, as they lie outside of the regulations, have developed an nonchalance over things that would be alarming in any circumstance, odd one out or not.

The Yalbecs, mentioned in CF99's introduction, are an implied Insectoid sentience that follow a HIve structure (with the Queen ontop who can produce pheromones to encourage reproduction). The yalbecs were performing an Insurrection on their planet, Yalbec Prime. As the Republic had gotten involved by sending CF99, that means the insurrection was against the Republic, meaning that the Yalbecs were, prior to the war, a Republic peoples.

If I had to give a reason for this insurrection, it would probably because the yalbec queen's stinger is used as food on other planets / by other cultures.

Two and two together, the yalbecs were insurrecting because their queens (and potential mother figures) were being hunted down for food, and the Republic was doing nothing.

A horrifying set of circumstances, made worse when the Republic sent a commando squad to handle the situation once it had become violent, and the result was, yet again, the death of another Queen and possibly her entire court.

... especially when that said Commando Squad began to brag about it afterwards.

This is a "funny" contrast to the hyper-empathy argument, and that is the total lack of empathy. Suggesting that CF99 primarily only cares about what a particular group (the "regular" clones) thinks about and tries to bring attention their successes to that group; but inevitably alienate themselves by sheer misunderstanding of both themselves, others, and the situation. Its the fantastical fantasy narrative equivalency of "my cat tried to show affection by bringing me a dead bird" or "I told a self deprecating joke about my childhood, and everyone looked at me with horror"

The "Total Lack of Empathy" is less inherent problem, and more akin to, learned impersonality, which can be a common problem when it comes to empathy.

Now this is starting to sound like "playing Psychology with fictional characters who can be written to do anything". I ain't diagnosis shit, I'm just pointing out a potential pattern, by drawing from experience.

Don't you just love how fiction can get personal.

Anyway.

In such inbetweens...

The Bad Batch have formed strong interpersonal relationships, only vaguely hinted at during their Clone Wars run.

From backing each other up, no matter who does what (from Crosshair's overly confrontational nature being immediately defended by Wrecker lifting someone up by the necktie and Tech's Goggles glare and Hunter stopping the person that Cross is confronting)...

... To Crosshair immediately stepping up to block an officer from yelling at Hunter...

... To Wrecker interrupting and teasing Tech, but then immediately quoting Tech to officers...

... to how proud Hunter is over his team, or Crosshair's indirect silent compliments in regards to Wrecker...

... to trusting Tech's strategies and intelligence, no matter how crazy, or how much he's teased afterwards, near immediately...

... to the various list of plans they perform practically on trust and instinct alone...

... and to giving the new odd one (Echo) a chance, even if they verbally distrust him.

The world these boys must have behind closed doors and off duty, is one of intimate trust, obvious communication and communal understanding, and each of them, no matter how they express it, share values.

They're playful and competitive with each other, and their various strong personalities do bump against one another, but its less destructive and more akin to knowingly being pieces on the same board. ( billiards comes to mind and everyone has a pocket. )

Its those hints of history and personality beyond their job, is what I wanted to see more of (and probably others too). Its those conflicts and bonds between themselves, the world and others that would've made a show.

( Character Development isn't necessarily that the character themselves changed--its often just that the Audience now knows more about a character. Character Development is more often than naught, a change in perspective from the audience's point of view. )

Introducing Echo would've been a fine way to learn more about them, by allowing the audience surrogate to be a main character lead, whilst also going off on fantastical sci-fi adventures in the Galaxy Far Far Away.

Applying personal interpretation and experience is often how you can make a story more interesting, as it allows both yourself and the audience to further understand themselves.

Yeah, its telling a familiar story, but often that's what's needed. And you freely can want what you also need.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #the clone wars #star wars hunter #star wars wrecker #star wars crosshair #star wars tech #star wars echo #analysis #deconstruction #reconstruction #probably part psychology maybe but don't quote me #i ain't no psycho-lololg-ist

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al-astakbar · 1 year ago

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☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆part 6/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.1k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ none > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted. thank you so much @starwh0ers for beta of this part :)

> series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

The two stormtroopers on either side of the wide double hatch come to attention as Thrawn strides towards them. “Good morning, gentlemen. Carry on,” he says, just as quickly, and you get the impression he greets whoever’s on shift this way every morning. He has to be the politest Imperial you’ve ever met. Most in his position, of his rank, would barely acknowledge anyone under his command outside his own bridge crew and cadre of senior officers.

Inside, the bridge hums with activity, even while the ship is in stationary orbit. The officer of the watch announces Thrawn’s arrival. The Grand Admiral quickly waves it off; there are more important things on his mind than protocol.

You walk in Thrawn’s shadow down the main corridor, all too aware of the questioning murmurs following you.

Once you’ve passed through a sort of foyer and mounted three short steps, a younger officer with neat, short cropped hair strides up, shoots a concerned glance at you, the non-Imperial interloper, and greets the Grand Admiral.

“Good morning, Admiral.”

“Good morning, Commodore Faro.”

“Shall I pass the word, sir?”

Thrawn’s nod is all the signal needed. A junior officer stands by some sort of ship-wide PA system and blows on a shrill pipe. Then she says into the mouthpiece: “All departments make readiness reports for getting underway to the Officer of the deck in the pilothouse.”

Quickly, the reports come in. Supply, Weapons, Engineering, Operations, Combat Systems. A lot of it is familiar to you, but with slight differences that make you turn your head when you hear them. Shouldn’t be surprising. Many rebellion personnel were former Imps after all.

“I’ve word from the Quartermaster. Fuel and rations replenishment completed, sir.”

“Thank you, Commodore. Munitions?”

“Ordnance chief confirmed complete last night, sir.”

“Very good.” When they are done, Thrawn looks to another officer, who is seated at a console. “Senior Captain Lomar,” he prompts, and the Senior Captain anticipates Thrawn’s order. “Fleet channel ready for you, Admiral.”

“Attention, Seventh Fleet.” He does not settle himself in the command chair, but crosses the command walkway to stand directly in front of the forward viewport, hands clasped behind his back. You hang back, and find yourself transfixed by his presence, unable to look away. “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn. I trust you have enjoyed your time in the capital.”

A round of appreciative, quiet laughter goes around the bridge, which you imagine is echoed on the hundreds of ships he’s addressing. Liberty calls on core planets, and especially Coruscant, were always popular, a chance for Imperial personnel to let loose and enjoy the best the Empire has to offer.

“Our mission,” he continues, “is simple. To eradicate piracy and insurrection in the Limian Sector of the Outer Rim. To accomplish this, we will bring to bear the full skill and power of this Fleet. You have your orders. Carry them out with focus and professionalism, and we will be successful.

… and, good hunting. That is all.” He looks to Lomar, who ends the connection.

Commodore Faro is at his side again, stance wide, hands clasped behind her back. You’ve been on ships before, but had never seen them orchestrated with quite such precision. “Sir, the ship is manned and ready to get underway. Permission to spin up, sir?”

Again, Thrawn nods and his crew react instantly.

“Calculations for the jump ready, sir. Hyperdrive is spun up.”

“At your convenience, Commodore.”

She nods to a black-uniformed technician at a console, who slowly and steadily opens a heavy throttle.

You can’t help your quiet gasp as starlines flare out from a point right in the center of the viewport and then give way to the tunnel of hyperspace. The sight of it is beautiful and unexpected, and you’ve never had such a clear view of a jump before. Suddenly, you’re glad you didn’t stay in Thrawn’s quarters to pout and sulk. More than likely you’d have been stuck there all day with nothing to do except peruse his art collection, and you can’t be sure if he would even permit you that.

If getting to watch Thrawn and the view of the hyperspace jump is the high point of your day so far, meeting Brierly Ronan has to be the lowest.

He strides onto the bridge late in the morning, and before you even know his name, you hear him chastising the stormtrooper guards before the hatch closes again.

In a huff, he nearly gets his flowing white cape caught in it.

Then, he notices you and loudly demands, to no one in particular, “who is this?!”

Thrawn looks up and comes over. “Good morning, Assistant Director. Is something the matter?”

The Assistant Director draws himself up, puffing his chest out and managing a little flourish with his cape, even though he’s standing still. “Yes! There is. I want to know who this is. She’s standing in my spot.”

Thrawn’s eyes flick to the deck, as if trying to see where exactly the spots are delineated. “She was a gift from the Emperor.” He turns to you, making polite formal introductions. “This is Assistant Director Brierly Ronan. And may I present…”

At the utterance of your name, you feel an unpleasant jolt of shock. Companions like you were never supposed to be named in public. It just wasn’t done. Hearing your own name aloud feels vulgar, as if Thrawn had just announced to everyone how much he had enjoyed fucking you last night, and gone into explicit detail.

First he suggests you go without your veil, now he speaks your name. Perhaps he wants to humiliate you. This could be some game to him, but as you watch him, he does not show any sign of enjoying your discomfort. In fact, he seems oblivious to it.

Brierly Ronan, for his part, sputters and turns an ugly shade of red. “Do you really think this is an appropriate place to parade around your pet?” He spits. “Really, Thrawn, even with your famous disdain for the rules— or do you mean to share her with everyone here?”

A muscle in Thrawn’s jaw tics. He waits a moment in silence, a silence that attracts the attention of nearby crew.

“My pet?” He repeats. His tone is quiet and deadly, a trap inviting Ronan to try to explain himself.

Ronan draws himself up, unable to match Thrawn’s height. “Well, she’s obviously not a bodyguard--”

“Are you sure?” He waits for a response that doesn’t come, then continues. “They go through quite a lot of training, you know. She was in the capital for a year.”

“I know what the training entails!” Hisses Ronan.

“And why should I not make known our Emperor’s generosity and good will? I will remind you, Assistant Director, that you are here not as a civilian, but due to your position as an officer in the Imperial military department of advanced weapons research.”

You understand the implication a moment after Ronan does -- despite him apparently having a rank as a civilian, while aboard this ship, his military posting puts him under Thrawn’s command. And he is, after all, wearing a uniform.

Ronan stands a bit straighter, looking furious.

Thrawn again leaves room, a polite incline of his head, for Ronan to reply. When none comes, Thrawn excuses himself to attend to other matters that require his attention. You are left standing there with Ronan, and when you realize that your silent, faceless stare is unnerving him, you force yourself to show the deference that is expected of you. He gives a derisive snort, as if he doesn’t quite believe whatever act you’re putting on. The urge to persist, and entertain yourself by irritating him, is strong, but you know you shouldn’t-- not just to avoid trouble and punishment, but because out of everyone on the Chimaera, he could be the one who might be willing to get you off of it.

Yes. The idea strikes you like a bolt and you inhale sharply. Ronan is the one you need to befriend. He obviously doesn’t like Thrawn. Frankly, you’re surprised Thrawn had tolerated such disrespect, especially in public, in front of his crew. But any overture will need to come from Ronan himself; companions are forbidden from initiating conversations with anyone other than their masters.

You could ignore convention, of course. You eye Ronan again. After his outburst about Thrawn parading you around, you expect that wouldn’t go over well. All you can do is take to hovering near him, and hope that he starts talking to you first.

To your dismay, he says nothing more. He gives you another disdainful look and then turns away with a flourish of his cloak. He retreats to a corner where some officers are talking in low voices, and they hide grimaces when he intrudes on their space.

You are left standing alone, unsure of what to do, and rather self-conscious. Your veil helps somewhat.

Curious eyes follow you-- as professional as Thrawn’s bridge crew may be, you are a strange person encroaching on their space, and an interesting distraction during an uneventful long-haul hyperspace jump.

You watch the operations quietly, alert, not getting too close. There are about thirty people just in the forward section of the bridge, most busy with tasks at data terminals in the crew pits. When you had followed Thrawn down the main corridor, you had seen banks of comms stations, an array of scanners, a holo pod, and some pairs of large double hatches. Officers’ meeting rooms, maybe.

The scale of it all is enough to keep you entertained until Thrawn concludes his discussions and comes back over to you. You had been lingering near the starfighter operations alcove, listening for anything interesting, but of course in hyperspace there isn’t much activity.

Reading the bios last night had not quite conveyed the significance of the Grand Admiral’s rank. Of his extraordinary career.

As you follow him back down the main corridor, you ask how many ships he commands. Impertinent question maybe, but he answers. Nineteen capital ships and twenty-five cruisers.

He lists off more numbers, staggering numbers of ships and personnel, as if it’s the most commonplace thing in the galaxy. 1900 TIE model fighters, then of course there are all the complements of shuttles and troop transports, plus hundreds of smaller support craft.

It takes you a few paces to do the math in your head. “But then… altogether the crew must be over a million people…”

“One million, two hundred thousand and forty-two. Each one crucial, in his or her role, to the operational capability of the fleet.” “But I bet you don’t know all their names.” You grin up at him.

He merely raises an eyebrow at you.

“I apologize for that… scene,” says Thrawn in a low tone once you are in a quieter passageway-- close to his quarters, you think, though the halls are so easy to get lost in. The standard shift is not over, but there are still hours to go for the first leg of the hyperspace jumps. You had overheard from the navigation section on the bridge that this is the first of three. “I did not expect the Assistant Director to react so forcefully. And I can assure you, he does not have claim to any particular ‘spot’ on the bridge.”

“Who is he, exactly?”

Thrawn’s tone is just the slightest bit dry when he answers. If his sly antagonism of the man had been anything to go by, you’d bet Thrawn doesn’t particularly like him, or at least resents having to deal with him. “A mediator, of sorts. Assigned to the ship to ensure the terms of an agreement are upheld.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just jealous?”

Breaking his stride, Thrawn looks over at you, genuinely puzzled. “For what reason?”

You just pluck at your robe, holding up the fabric, and understanding dawns on his face.

“Ah, of course. A symbol of status.” He resumes walking. You aren’t sure how to feel about that-- reduced to being a rare prize-- nor do you mention the other reason Ronan might have reacted that way-- you are human, and Thrawn is not. “Regardless, I should have anticipated this. It should have been a private conversation. But in the end it was to our advantage, I think. Those who witnessed it will have gained some understanding of who you are and why you are with me.”

“And the rest of the crew will hear about it by supper,” you add. News travels fast on a ship, even one this big, where gossip will always be a favorite pastime.

He gives you a sideways glance, and you could swear he almost smiles.

☆ link to part 7 ☆

☆join tag list☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added or removed.

@thrawns-babygirl @vibratingskull @thrawns-teef-weef @aethersecho @exoplorationn @elc3004 @littlecrowtime @twilekchiss @saber-slutt @projectdreamwalker @ele-millennial-weirdo @vaarians @shoe-bag @thrawnspetgoose @nomercyforthewarrior @pb-jellybeans @twincesskorisoka @jewelliffer @cecilyjmorgenstern @mandinlore @bobaprint @bluechiss @andrakass2 @nocturneabyss @starwh0ers

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn fic #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn fanfic #star wars

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rjzimmerman · 6 months ago

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Many of you know that I'm a lawyer, retired, but still a member of the bar. I don't practice law (can't), but I still read professional articles and media reports about environmental law and other laws that interest me. From my humble perspective, some of the recent decisions of the US Supreme Court are invalid because the decisions were issued by the Court acting not in its constitutional capacity of a court of appeals, but acting as a court of original jurisdiction. If I'm correct (and I'm sure I can find a slew of right wing lawyers who are laughing at me), then the executive branch of the US government, i.e., the President, is not obligated to enforce those decisions. Plus, the ethical issues of Justice Thomas.......what the fuck is he doing participating in a decision on trump's January 6 sins when Thomas' wife was furiously clicking away on e-mails encouraging the rioting and insurrection? Wishful thinking, but somehow sometime somewhere something dramatic has to happen to smack down the Supreme Court, or at least create some sense of doubt in their tiny little pointed heads.

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

A spate of decisions over the past two years by the Supreme Court has significantly impaired the Environmental Protection Agency’s authority to limit pollution in the air and water, regulate the use of toxic chemicals and reduce the greenhouse gasses that are heating the planet.

This term, the court’s conservative supermajority handed down several rulings that chip away at the power of many federal agencies.

But the environmental agency has been under particular fire, the result of a series of cases brought since 2022 by conservative activists who say that E.P.A. regulations have driven up costs for industries ranging from electric utilities to home building. Those arguments have resonated among justices skeptical of government regulation.

On Friday, the court ended the use of what is known as the Chevron doctrine, a cornerstone of administrative law for 40 years that said that courts should defer to government agencies to interpret unclear laws. That decision threatens the authority of many federal agencies to regulate the environment and also health care, workplace safety, telecommunications, the financial sector and more.

But more remarkable have been several decisions by the court to intervene to stop environmental regulations before they were decided by lower courts or even before they were implemented by the executive branch.

On Thursday, the court said the E.P.A. could not limit smokestack pollution that blows across state borders under a measure known as the “good neighbor rule.” In that case, the court took the surprising step of weighing in while litigation was still pending at the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit.

The court also acted in an unusually preliminary fashion last year when it struck down a proposed E.P.A. rule known as Waters of the United States that was designed to protect millions of acres of wetlands from pollution, acting before the regulation had even been made final.

Similarly, in a 2022 challenge to an E.P.A. climate proposal known as the Clean Power Plan, the court sharply limited the agency’s ability to regulate greenhouse gas emissions from power plants, even though that rule had not yet taken effect.

That kind of intervention has little in the way of precedent. Usually, the Supreme Court is the last venue to hear a case, after arguments have been made and opinions have been rendered by lower courts.

“This court has shown an interest in making law in this area and not having the patience to wait for the cases to first come up through the courts,” said Kevin Minoli, a lawyer who worked in the E.P.A.’s office of general counsel from the Clinton through the Trump administrations. “They’ve been aggressive on ruling. It’s like, we’re going to tell you the answer before you even ask the question.”

Collectively, those decisions now endanger not only many existing environmental rules, but may prevent future administrations from writing new ones, experts say.

“These are among the worst environmental law rulings that the Supreme Court will ever issue,” said Ian Fein, a senior attorney with the Natural Resources Defense Council, an advocacy group. “They all cut sharply against the federal government’s ability to enforce laws that protect us from polluters.”

The march of environmental cases is not over: The court has agreed to hear a case next term that could limit the reach of National Environmental Policy Act, the 1970 law that requires federal agencies to analyze whether their proposed projects have environmental consequences. Businesses and industries have long complained that the reviews can take years, inflate costs and be used by community groups to block projects.

#US Supreme Court #environmental laws #climate change #EPA #Chevron doctrine #administrative law

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years ago

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strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part twenty-three

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

shit doesn't go as planned on your way out of the QZ.

a/n: the bridge between episode 1 and 2. part twenty-four will be up this week! thank you to all of those who commented on the last two parts, I'll be reblogging/replying to those plus any comments here in the next two days, and my askbox is always open 🤍 thanks for sticking with me bbys!!! I love you all!

word count: 7.3k

warnings: canon-typical violence, you know the drill. no filth here.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

“Observe mandatory curfew to fight infection and insurrection.”

God, if you had a dollar for every time you’d heard that fucking sentence. Or a ration card. You’d be set for life. You and Joel could die well-fed. Tess, too.

The rain has let up some, but still, you pull your hood up, instruct Ellie to do the same. The bat is a soft press between your shoulders, hidden by your bag, but you feel acutely aware of the weapon. You feel acutely aware of everything. Not like this is your first rodeo — this is an old habit for you, at this point — but something feels different. It is different.

Before you even step foot out of the lobby, you grab Ellie, turning her to face you. She stares up at you with those dark eyes, so full of fear you almost feel bad. “I’m gonna keep this simple,” you say to her, removing your hand from her shoulder. “You stay in between me and Joel, not behind. Between. You follow close, you keep your mouth shut, and if shit goes south, you take the easiest path, follow whichever one of us gets away, and you don’t look back. Clear?”

She just stares at you for a moment, her bottom lip almost quivering. “What if none of you get away?”

“We will. Are we clear?” When she doesn’t reply, you prompt her further. “Ellie,” you say, your voice teetering on stern. “Say it.”

The kid swallows hard, nods. “Clear.”

“Good.” You tear your eyes from her innocent face, finding Joel’s dark gaze watching you. “Ready?”

He just nods.

It’s easy enough, getting from the apartment building to the opening at Lancaster. Tess scouts a few feet ahead, signals you to follow when it’s clear, and you take one of your old routes through the empty warehouses to get where you need to be.

Ellie keeps close to you as you move through the city, just as you’d asked. At one point, your boot slips on the curb, your ankle twisting sideways, and before you can so much as flinch, she grabs your hand, using her weight to push you back onto the sidewalk. You mouth thanks and she nods, but doesn’t let go of your hand.

Finally, the storm drain at Lancaster is in view, and Tess jogs ahead, waiting for the coast to clear before she waves you forward. She and Joel lift the drain, Tess slides down first, then Ellie, then you, then Joel. He turns once he’s in, grabs the drain cover and slides it back into place with some help from you.

It’s dark inside, the walls slimy and wet and it smells fucking awful. Tess doesn’t waste any time, heading towards the other end, and once you’re almost there, Joel pushes to the front, taking the few steps up to the asphalt barrier. With a grunt, he pushes his shoulder up and into it, pauses when you hear the sound of a helicopter overhead. Once it passes, he continues to slide the asphalt piece across, another quiet grunt falling out of him.

Joel hauls himself up and out, kneeling in the dirt, and holds his hand towards you. You take it, holding your breath as he yanks you up, jutting his chin towards your foot, the ankle that had twisted. “You okay?” he whispers.

You just nod, kneeling beside him as Ellie clambers out of the hole. Her hands press into the dirt and you grab her by the handle of her backpack, helping her out, then offering your hand to Tess. As soon as you’re all out, crouched in the dirt, you and Joel grab hold of the asphalt, sliding the piece back into place.

Ellie straightens, awe in her expression as she takes in your new surroundings. “Holy shit, I’m actually outside!”

“Oh, for the love of—” You grit the words out, grabbing the sleeve of her jacket and yanking her back down hard.

“Oh, shit,” she half-whispers, ducking down behind the abandoned bus you’ve tucked yourself behind. The unimpressed expression on Joel’s face would make you laugh in any other circumstance. “Sorry.”

“Okay,” you whisper, ignoring her apology. “We’re gonna take the left edge around the buffer zone, you know what that is?” you ask, and she nods, her lips pressed together. “You stay close, like you have been, and you follow my lead. You got it?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding more. “Of course. I got it.”

“Let’s go,” Tess hisses, and you wave her on, shooting Joel a glare as he shakes his head, nudging Ellie to follow Tess beneath the bus. He waits for you to slide beneath before following, and when you glance back, you see the FEDRA spotlights sweep across the space you’d just been occupying.

Tess takes the lead again, and Ellie pauses when you come out the other side of the bus, waiting for you to step ahead, taking her place between you and Joel. She looks at you with big eyes as you walk past her, almost like she’s waiting for your approval, and you offer it in the form of a slight nod, mouthing good call.

The rumble of a truck makes your every sense heighten, and Ellie grabs your hand. You grip it tight, pulling her to the side, ducking you both behind a car as the truck drives past. Tess looks at you wordlessly over the top of Ellie’s head, and you turn your neck to see Joel crouched behind an overturned car. You all pause, waiting for more noise, but only the thunder comes.

Your steps are a bit faster now, all of you pushed against the fractured concrete that shields you from the helicopters above. Tess keeps point, and you keep your grip on Ellie’s hand. A second truck rumbles past, and you all dive for cover. You don’t miss the hitch in the kid’s breath as she tries to catch it, and you squeeze her fingers.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” you tell her. “Just stay close. You’re doing great.”

Even without looking, you can feel Joel’s eyes shooting daggers into your back.

Another corner turned, and the gap in the fence comes into view. It’s almost comical, with the warning signs on either side of it, the chain link spread wide enough for you all to fit through. Ellie’s still holding your hand, and you make for the fence, squinting up as the rain starts to come harder, soaking your hair, making it stick to the back of your neck. Joel moves up beside you, his hand finding your side as you step forward and then—

“Hey!”

Fuck.

“Hey, don’t, don’t…don’t move!”

You all freeze as you see Sergeant Lee Evans standing against the concrete wall, re-zipping his pants, flashlight waving as he reaches for his gun. McCoy’s guy, the one who’d taken over his posts, the one you’ve been making deals with for a long time. The one who was meant to get you the truck to get to Wyoming, before you struck the deal with Marlene.

“Don’t move!”

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles, illuminating the space you’re all standing in. Lee lifts his gun, points it at Joel, then you, then Ellie. Then he pauses, the gun swinging back to you, and lifts the visor on his helmet.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.”

“Okay, Lee, wait,” you start, lifting your hands, putting yourself slightly in front of Ellie, “let’s just talk this out, yeah?”

Joel takes a half-step, doing the same, his tone sliding into something persuasive. “Hold on—”

“Get on your fuckin’ knees!” Lee shouts, pointing at Joel, the gun lowering slightly. “Get on your fuckin’ knees!”

“Now, hold on—” Joel repeats, but Lee ignores him.

“What did I fuckin’ tell you, man? I said stay the fuck home. Now, get on your knees!”

“Lee—”

“Knees!”

Tess smacks your arm. “Just get on your knees,” she says, sinking to her own. “Just get on your knees.” On the ground, she turns back to Lee, trying to placate him. Meanwhile, you sink down beside her, tugging Ellie down, while Joel takes the empty space between Ellie and Tess. “You let us do this run,” Tess continues, her voice carrying through the space, “and we’ll split the cards with you.”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so blessed,” Lee says sarcastically. “Hands on your head, eyes forward.”

You shoot a glance over your shoulder, and see the bio-scanner in his hand. Your stomach drops into your toes. Fuck. There’ve been a few run-ins, over the years, sure, but you’ve always managed to talk your way — or shoot your way — out of them.

“Hands on your head!” Lee spits.

Not talking your way out of this one.

You do as the soldier says, nudging Ellie to do the same. Joel shoots you a glance, meeting your eyes over the kid’s head, and you shake your head just slightly. What the fuck are you gonna do, what are you gonna—

“Really, man?” Tess protests as the machine buzzes at her neck.

“Yep,” Lee grits, unimpressed. “We’re doing this by the book.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tess mutters, glancing at you before looking back at Lee. “What about three-quarters?”

The screen on the bio-scanner goes green, clearing Tess, and you swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

“Unauthorized exit,” Lee spits, shooting you a glare. “They’ll hang you for that.”

“Fine!” Joel shouts as Lee moves along the line of you, shoving the scanner against Joel’s neck. “Everything off of this run.”

“And half off on all the pills,” you shout, trying to sweeten the deal.

Lee laughs at you. “Half off? All off. Risk my job for half off. Outta your fuckin’ minds.”

Beside you, Ellie’s breathing gets heavy. Something in you wants to reach for her, but you resist, lacing your hands at the back of your head. Lee steps towards her, and something tightens in your chest, making you—

Ellie screams as the scanner beeps at her neck, whirling around towards Lee. You didn’t notice the switchblade open in her hand, and it sinks into Lee’s leg.

“Ellie!” you shriek. Lee shoves her forward and you go after her instantly, putting yourself in front of her as Lee yanks the knife out. It clatters to the asphalt, and Tess slinks to the side, Joel standing in front of you and Ellie as Lee lifts his gun.

“Fucking bitch!” he shouts. “Get out of the fucking way!”

“Woah!” Joel shouts, lifting his hands again. “Woah!” He glances over his shoulder at you, standing in front of Ellie, your arm held out protectively. “We can fix this!”

The barrel of the gun shifts from Joel to you, the flashlight taped to it blinding you. You feel Ellie’s fingers curl in the fabric of your sleeve. “Move,” Lee spits, “or I kill your wife, and then the girl.”

For a moment, everything is eerily silent. Joel is completely still. Behind you, you can hear the hitch in Ellie’s breath, and this beast in your chest, this protective thing roars. If Lee pulls that trigger, you’ll—

“Move.”

Lee takes a step towards you, and Joel lunges forward with a yell. They both go crashing to the ground, the gun skittering to the side, but Joel has the upper hand in a moment. Over and over, his fist connects with Lee’s face, the flashes of lightning illuminating the blood on his skin, on Joel’s knuckles. Over and over and over and over.

“Joel,” you call, but it’s no use, he doesn’t so much as flinch. Ellie tries to step around you, and you try to stop her, try to shield her from the bloody scene before you, but she moves around you quickly, her dark eyes fixated on Joel’s cocked fist. “Joel!”

Finally, he stops, breathing heavily as he lifts his red-stained fist. His knuckles are probably split, maybe even broken, and your own heart is rioting in your chest. He straightens slightly, turning back to the three of you, and for a moment, he and Ellie just stare at each other. Lee lies unmoving on the ground.

Then Joel’s eyes slide to you. “Liv, I…” He trails off, but you just shake your head.

You step towards him, grip his arm and haul him sideways off of Lee’s too-still body. Bile crawls up the back of your throat. Not the first time, you know it won’t be the last. “We need to go.”

Behind you, Tess gasps. You turn to see her with Lee’s bio-scanner in her hand. The screen is red.

He’d scanned Ellie last.

“No!” the girl cries, panic making her voice climb. “No! No, I’m not sick!”

“Liv!” Tess shouts, holding the scanner towards you, the red screen too bright as it blinks at you. “Liv!”

“I am not sick,” Ellie says again, and your stomach ties itself into a knot. “I’m not sick! Look, look!” She tugs up her sleeve, offers her arm to Tess, and Joel pulls you back a step, trying to put himself in front of you. Like that matters. “This is three weeks old,” Ellie continues, her tone still dripping with panic. “Nobody lasts more than a day. Does this look a day old to you?!” Her head lifts, those dark eyes whipping in your direction. “I couldn’t tell you, you would’ve killed me!”

“We should fucking kill you!” Tess spits, and Joel puts his hand on your arm, but you shrug it off. Faintly, you can hear FEDRA sirens growing closer.

“They’re gonna catch us if we don’t run,” Ellie says, and her eyes are trained on you. Joel reaches out again, but you smack his hand away this time, crouching and grabbing Lee’s gun, shoving it against Joel’s chest. He catches it with his good hand, and you grab at his injured one, inspecting his split and bloody knuckles. He hisses when you spread his fingers, pulls his hand away.

As you drop his hand, something catches your eye. Ellie’s knife, smeared with blood, laying in the dirt. You crouch to grab it, switching the blade shut and jamming the thing into your pocket.

“We need to go,” you say, and stride back to where Ellie’s standing. You all but yank her away from Tess, pushing the young girl toward the fence. “Tess, let’s go.”

You hold the fence open as Ellie scrambles through, keep it open for Tess as well. Joel is still standing beside Lee, staring down at the soldier.

“Joel!” you shout, and his head snaps up, dark eyes meeting yours. “We need to go.”

The sirens are getting closer, but you wait for him. He offers you his good hand as he gets closer, the gun now looped over his shoulder, and you take it, lacing your fingers together and heading through the fence. Ellie looks at you with big eyes as you clamber through, Tess holding the chain link open for you both. Gripping Joel’s hand tightly, you turn her around, push her forward as you all disappear into the night, the sounds of FEDRA’s patrols getting closer and closer to the scene you’ve left behind.

The rain doesn’t let up. It gets worse as you move through the city, puddles beneath your every step. Your socks are soaked inside your boots, your hair sticking to your scalp. Joel’s grip on your hand is tight, his knuckles pressed to yours.

You get a few feet from the fence before Ellie turns to you, panic embedded in her face, an apology on her lips. “Liv, please, I’m sorry, okay? I couldn’t tell you, Marlene said not to—”

“Shut up,” you hiss at her, forcing yourself to ignore the way she flinches at your tone. She stops in her tracks, and you pull away from Joel enough to grab her by the front of her jacket, spinning her around. “We’re not safe out here, whether or not you’re sick. Follow Tess, and keep your mouth shut.”

She does as you say.

You fall back into step with Joel, who’s now brandishing Lee’s gun, his good hand on the trigger. Thunder rumbles, and you reach for the bat, gripping the handle tightly. Being outside of the QZ is one thing, this close to the walls, but unarmed is another. Ahead of you, Tess picks her way through the rubble, heading for the closest building. It used to be a hair salon; you remember getting your hair done there, before. The memory feels strange to recall, fuzzy at the edges and almost more like a dream.

Joel nudges you with his shoulder, his voice low. “How are we gonna play this?”

Pulled out of your head, you turn toward him, your brows pulling down. “What?”

“Tess doesn’t know about you,” he whispers, his eyes searching yours. “And if this kid is—”

“Tess doesn’t know what about me?” you ask him, and you watch the realization settle on his face. There’s a loud creak, and you see Tess has pried the salon door open, waving you all in. “Can we just make it through the night, first? One thing at a goddamned time.”

You go to take a step away, but Joel catches your hand, wincing as his bruised hand closes around yours. “Liv, I…” He clears his throat, staring down at his boots. “I’m sorry, for what happened back there. He pointed that gun at you and the kid and I just…” After a beat, his eyes lift to yours. They’re so haunted, so full of emotion that your breath catches. “He pointed that gun at you, and I was right back to that night. In Austin, when Sarah…”

His voice breaks on her name. Something in your chest cracks. You honestly can’t remember the last time he said it out loud.

“Stop,” you say, moving close to him. You take his scruffy jaw in your hand, keep his eyes on yours. “You did what you had to. We had to get out of there. There was no other option. I know that, and you know that. Lee was a fucking asshole, anyway.” He huffs something like a laugh, and you press a soft kiss to his mouth. “We’re safe, okay? C’mon. Let’s go inside. I need to look at that hand.”

Stepping into the salon feels surreal, your brain wired to expect fluorescent lights and the secretary who truly couldn’t have given less of a fuck asking what time your appointment was at. You’ve walked past this place a million times on runs since the walls went up, but you’ve never once stepped back inside.

Ellie’s standing in the middle of the space, staring up at the ceiling. Nature has truly taken over, grass and moss erupting through the cracked tiles, dirt covering the rest of the floor. A lone chair stands upright off to the side, every mirror shattered to pieces. Ivy climbs along one wall, and as you walk inside, Tess shuts the door, muttering at Joel to help her move a big cabinet in front of the door.

“What the fuck was Marlene doing with an infected kid?” Tess hisses as the three of you stand near the door, stealing glances at the kid in the middle of the salon. “We oughta put a damn bullet in her head.”

“Then why didn’t Marlene do it?” you counter, and Tess’s shoulder sag. “Clearly she’s important. She said that bite is what, two weeks old? What—”

“Three weeks,” Ellie calls out conversationally, a rumble of thunder punctuating her words. You give her the most withering look you can manage.

You look back at Tess. “We’re tired. We’re scared. That wasn’t what any of us had anticipated, and the last thing we need to do is make an impulsive decision.” Joel nods slightly, his eyes glued to your face. “We sleep it off, and we talk it out in the morning.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Tess says, reaching out and taking Lee’s gun from Joel. “Tell her to pick a corner.” She looks at you. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

You nod, inclining your head towards an empty corner. Joel heads for it, and you walk towards Ellie.

Your steps are slow, the bat still held in your hand. She turns her head to look at you as you approach, and you look up a the ceiling, seeing the large hole giving way to the floor above, the cracked beams and what looks like a tree growing out of the second storey. Further up, you can see flashes of lightning, the rumble of thunder following close behind.

“So, is this the part where you kill me?” she asks, and you know she’s trying to be the tough guy, but her voice gives her away, that waver of panic still evident. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s late,” you say, shaking your head. “No one’s killing you. You should get some sleep, all right? We’re all rattled; we’ll figure this out in the morning.” When she doesn’t say anything, you say, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You got a blanket or anything in that bag?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel, heading for the corner Joel is now occupying. He’s sat on the ground, his back propped against the wall, legs stretched ahead of him. You drop your bag next to his, tapping your boot against his. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, eyes shooting open. His bad hand lifts to rub over his face and he winces before he can complete the movement. “Fuck.”

“Let me see it,” you say, crouching in front of your bag, pulling out what little first aid supplies you have left. A single alcohol wipe, a mostly-clean rag you tore into strips for bandages. “You think it’s broken?”

“Maybe a hairline,” he grunts, sliding over as you move to sit beside him, holding your hand out for his. You tear the wipe open with your teeth, spit the wrapper to the side. “It’ll heal fast.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” you mutter, shaking your head as you lift his hand for closer inspection, swiping at the blood. He doesn’t flinch, but lets out a little groan, his other hand wrapping around your leg.

You clean as much of the blood away as you can. Two of his knuckles are split, but you’ve definitely seen worse on him. And if there’s anything you’ve learned about Joel over the years, it’s that he can take the pain.

You both can.

You finish wrapping his hand, tying the makeshift bandage off in the middle of his palm. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do. The ground is hard beneath you as you settle in, Joel bunching up his jacket as a pillow for you both to share, him lying with his back to the wall, good ear up. You fit yourself against his front, draping your coat over the both of you, tugging his arm around your waist beneath it. Whatever comfort you can get, you take. You revel in it.

Every time you try to close your eyes, something pops up to haunt you, chasing sleep away before you can grab it.

Memories of the explosions all those years ago, of hiding in the bookstore and waiting to die.

The way you’d held out hope that Joel was still alive, that he’d make good on his promise and find you, across the country, no matter how much time had passed.

The fear that had consumed you when you were bit, the hope Joel had offered when he told you about Anna, what had happened to her, what turned out to be the same for you.

The panic you felt when Nick took Deanna and the kids away, blackmailing you into silence.

The frustration when Tommy stopped answering the goddamned radio, sending Joel into a spiral.

The obvious hurt in Tess’s face after she and Robin had talked.

That sinking feeling that’s been chasing you around with every day that’s passed where you haven’t heard from Bill and Frank, not a song on the radio or a crackling message to let you know they’re okay.

The feral violence Joel had rained down on Lee, to keep you safe. To keep Ellie safe.

The sheer fucking terror in Ellie’s face when the scanner turned red.

Sleep seems to come to Joel easily, his breathing evening out against your neck, his forehead tipped against the back of your head. His arm tightens around you, and you try to replace the haunted memories with good ones, happy ones. Led Zeppelin on the radio and walking down the aisle, all the stars in the sky and the bed of Joel’s truck, the deer at the lake and your honeymoon at the cabin.

It feels like sleep has just pulled you under when Tess is waking you for the next watch. “Liv,” she calls, her hand curled around your shoulder. “Liv.”

Your eyes blink open, and it takes you a minute to realize that there’s music playing.

I’m taking a ride with my best friend.

Tess kicks at Joel’s boot and he jolts out of dreamless sleep. You’re not where you were, pressed against him, and he bolts upright, panic twisting his stomach when he sees you a few feet from him, hunched over something. He rubs his hand across his face and his hand aches.

“What…?”

Never want to put my feet back down on the ground.

“I can’t check the fucking book, Tess, can I?” you spit, shoving your hand through your hair. It’s the radio, Joel realizes, that you’re bent over, the music filling the quiet space between you. He glances to the corner where Ellie had sprawled; she’s still asleep, curled on her side, facing away from all of you. “I swear to god, it was 1985.”

“Sure, when you were what, seven?” Tess hisses, straightening, putting her hands on her hips. The frustration is clear on her face. “How do we know it wasn’t the nineties? Depeche Mode was still around when the world fucking imploded, it could have been ‘92, ‘93?”

“Nineties doesn’t mean anything on the code, Tess,” you tell her, your tone completely flat until you say her name, and your voice snaps in two. “Something is wrong.” You go quiet for a moment, heaving a breath, and then launch the radio across the room. It hits the wall with a loud crack, splintering into pieces, and from the corner of his eye, Joel sees Ellie jump. “I was right. We should have left days ago, we shouldn’t have waited for this to fucking happen!”

You get to your feet, storming across the salon to where he’d propped the cabinet against the door. The metal rings as your fist connects, and Tess shoots him a look. “Liv,” he calls, getting to his feet, jogging toward you. He catches your wrist before you can swing again. “Baby, stop it. Don’t—” You try to yank your hand away from him, but he tightens his grip. “Hey.”

“They could be dead,” you murmur, the words halfway between speaking and sobbing. His heart aches at the sound. “They could…” You trail off, shaking your head, tears shining on your cheeks in the streaks of moonlight coming through the cracks in the windows and doors.

“C’mere,” Joel whispers, using your wrist as leverage, pulling you against him. You go willingly, collapsing into his chest. You bury your face in his neck, and he rubs his hand up and down your spine. “There’s nothin’ we can do right now, baby. It’s the middle of the night, you’re exhausted, we all are. The moment the sun comes up, we get the kid to the State House, we get the truck, and we haul ass to Lincoln, you understand me? Computer probably stopped working, and Bill couldn’t reset the radio.” He presses his lips to your temple, his next words muffled against your skin. “It’s gonna be fine. Everythin’ is gonna be fine.”

With a soft noise something like a whimper, you nod your head, your forehead brushing his chin as you do.

“Go back and lie down,” he tells you, reluctantly detaching you from his chest. “I’ll take the next watch.”

“But—”

“Go, Liv,” he says, a little more tersely. “I’ll wake you in a couple hours.”

You’re halfway across the room when Ellie pipes up. “1987.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Joel’s watching you go, Tess also watching from her spot against the wall. “What did you say?”

“The song. It’s from 1987,” the kid repeats, rubbing at her eyes. “I had the cassette tape.”

You say nothing in response, and for a moment, Joel feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Your head is turned, he can just see your profile, streaks of moonlight in your hair. He’s never seen that expression on your face, as you stare at Ellie. He doesn’t have a name for it.

“Go back to sleep,” you say finally, and Joel inhales sharply.

He waits until you’ve settled back in the space where you’d both been laying, your coat tugged over you like a blanket. Tess hands him the rifle, finding her own space to sprawl out, and Ellie watches before turning over herself, the room plunging back into silence.

As quietly as he can, Joel creeps across to where the radio had landed. It’s shattered, the plastic cracked, the metal antenna a few feet away from the rest of it. Sighing, Joel slides his boot across the ground, pushing the pieces closer to the wall.

Morning comes quick. The moment Tess and Joel wake, you’re anxious to get moving, but there’s still a conversation to be had. You barely slept, your mind racing too quickly for you to feel rested, and you know Joel stayed on watch longer than he should have. You can see it in the bags under his eyes, the groan he lets out as he peels himself up off the floor.

Joel found two more chairs, in the night, and Tess sinks into one of them while you take the other, facing Ellie’s still sleeping figure. Joel stands behind you, Lee’s rifle in his hand. “Keep it pointed at her,” Tess says, and when his eyes shift to you, you just nod.

The lying comes almost too easily, pretending you’re not the same as the girl still asleep on the floor. Three weeks post-bite versus fourteen years. You wonder, if Tess knew the truth, if she’d pull a gun on you. You wonder how deep your betrayal would cut her.

You force the thought from your mind as the building creaks above you. The rain is gone, replaced with sunlight that streams through the hole in the ceiling, lighting up the middle of the salon, the grass and moss bright green in the sun.

A loud creak echoes through the building, and Ellie rouses, rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself up off the ground. You all watch silently as she wakes, patting at her pockets. She curses under her breath, and you see fresh panic on her face as she grabs her bag and wrenches it open, digging through it.

You pull the switchblade from your pocket. “Looking for this?”

She grimaces. “Morning. Can I have that back?” She gets to her feet, and Joel lifts the rifle. Guilt tugs at your stomach at the expression on her face. “Do I look like I’m infected?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Joel beats you to it. “Show us your arm.”

With a loud sigh, Ellie tugs up her sleeve. Her bite looks similar to yours, in the middle of her forearm. The same spindly lines stretch outward from the bite that’s long healed over. Yours is just the same has been for years.

“Yeah, it’s not getting any worse, is it?” she says flatly.

Tess shoots you a look, and you inhale deeply, one brow lifting, the words silently communicated. She’s got a point.

“If we’re out in the open city, why aren’t we getting swarmed?” Ellie asks.

“Don’t worry about that,” Joel shoots back, and the kid almost rolls her eyes.

“Well, I’m gonna.”

Joel leans forward like he’s gonna say something more, but you put your hand out, your knuckles hitting his chest. “What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m not infected,” she says quickly, and the three of you just stare back. Your brow lifts again, and she keeps going. “She found me after I was bitten.”

“And she didn’t just shoot you, right then and there?”

“Clearly not.” The kid’s gaze drops, tugging at a blade of grass at her feet. “She locked me up and had her guys test me every day to see if I was getting sick.”

“Test you how?” Tess asks, leaning closer to you.

“I have to pee,” Ellie quips, and Tess goes rigid beside you.

“Test you how?” you repeat.

“They’d make me count to ten and hold out my hand and keep it steady, but you know, I think what really impressed them was the fact that I didn’t turn into a fucking monster.” You have to stifle your laugh as the kid gets to her feet. “Now can I please?”

Joel rises as Ellie does, lifting the gun slightly. Her eyes go wide again, full of fear, and you grab the back of Joel’s jacket. “Fine,” you jut your chin toward the back of the salon. “Through that door. Pick a corner.”

“Here,” Tess calls as she walks away, grabbing a magazine at her feet and flinging it towards Ellie, who catches it easily. “Tear out a few pages.”

She turns on her heel, heading for the door you’d pointed to. “There’s not gonna be anything bad in here?” she asks.

“Just you,” Joel retorts, and you smack his chest.

“Oh, funny.”

You sigh collectively as she disappears through the door. Joel sinks into the chair you’d been sitting in, and you hold out your hand for his. “Let me see,” you say, and he lets the rifle sit in his lap, putting his bandaged palm in yours. He winces as you tug at the bandage, and you purse your lips; clearly it’s more tender than it’d been last night. “Should have brought something for the pain.”

“Didn’t think I’d be in pain,” Joel says, lifting his eyes to yours. He still has that haunted look in them, the one you’d seen when he��d told you what last night had done to him, that he’d felt like he was back there with Sarah.

And then the way he’d held you, after the radio had gone off. This is what your lives have become, both of you cracked at the edges, the other just trying their best to keep you from shattering completely.

Over and over and over again.

You can feel Tess’s eyes on you, and when you’ve retied Joel’s bandage, your eyes slide to hers. “What?”

“What?” she repeats, shock on her face. “She made it through the fucking night, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Three weeks, Tess,” you say, flinging your hand in the direction Ellie had disappeared. “We might not like Marlene, but she’s not a fucking idiot. If the kid was going to turn, it would have happened already, and if it had, she’d be dead, and we’d already be in fucking Wyoming.”

“It could still happen,” Joel pipes in, and your gaze slides to his. His fingers twitch in your grip. This is for show. You hope. “We’re still close to the wall; we sneak her back in, we find another way to get the battery, then we go.”

“I won’t go back to the QZ,” Tess says, shaking her head. “Not now. I’m done with Boston. I can’t…” She keeps shaking her head. “I won’t. You two take her back, if that’s what you want, but I won’t—”

“What did Robin say to you?” you ask, leaning forward so you can catch her eyes. But she says nothing, and you heave a sigh. “We don’t have time. Besides, we take her back to the QZ, how long until someone notices her arm? They scan her, they kill her, and it’s just another fucking tally in FEDRA’s book.”

“We take her to the Fireflies, and what the fuck are they gonna do with her?” Tess counters.

“We take her to the Fireflies, and at least we get what we want.”

She goes silent again.

Ellie’s footsteps echo as she comes back into the main room, and Joel leans back in his chair, both hands around the rifle again. Ellie tosses the magazine back at Tess, and it skids across the floor, hitting her boots.

“We should eat something,” you say, reaching for your bag. You dig out some of the dried beef you’d collected yesterday, hand a piece to Joel as Tess takes her own out. “Ellie, are you hungry? You can share some of ours.”

“I’m good,” she replies, returning to her spot in the moss. “Marlene sent me with my own.”

Joel’s hand shakes as he tries to snap the beef into a smaller piece, and you take it from him, breaking it yourself and handing him half. His eyes flash to yours, and you squeeze his shoulder. You’re all silent for a moment, eating quietly, until something in the air makes your nose prickle.

“Is that…chicken?”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, swallowing a mouthful. “Marlene said they get it from smugglers. I guess not you guys.”

Slowly, you tilt your head to the side, tossing your piece of beef back onto the paper sitting atop your bag. “Why are you so important to Marlene, huh? That woman is stingy with her resources, but she’s pulled out all the stops for you.” You get to your feet, feeling Joel swipe at the back of your jacket as you step toward the kid. “And don’t lie to me, or we’ll take you back.”

“You take me back, and you don’t get what you want,” the kid says, a sly grin on her face.

You scoff. “Oh, you heard that? Then you must have heard the other part, too. We take you back to the QZ, and it’s only a matter of time before FEDRA gets their hands on you. And trust me, kid, they’re a hell of a lot meaner than we are.” You glance over your shoulder at Joel, his wrapped hand. “And that’s saying something. You wouldn’t last a day.”

Her throat bobs, and Joel calls your name, a warning.

You sink into a crouch in front of her, arms braced on your knees. “I’m gonna talk to you like you’re an adult, okay? The three of us? We aren’t good people, Ellie. We’re doing this for us, like you said, to get what we want. Apparently, you’re worth something, but we don’t know what you’re worth, other than the fact that you got bit three weeks ago, and like you said, you’re not a fucking monster. So answer my question: why are you so important to Marlene?”

She looks at you for a long moment before her eyes drop shut, and she covers her face with her hand. “She told me not to tell anyone,” she mumbles out, “and now I’m telling the first people that…”

You just stare at her, waiting.

Finally, with a sigh, she continues. “There’s a Firefly base camp somewhere out west, with doctors. They’re working on a cure.”

You hear the screech of the chair across the ground, and Joel gets to his feet. “Mhm, we’ve heard this before.”

Ellie shoots a glare in his direction. “And whatever happened to me is the—”

“—key to finding the vaccine,” Joel finishes, and you can hear the anger creeping up into his voice. “That’s what this is? We’ve heard this a million times. Vaccines, miracle cures, none of it works. Ever.”

“Fuck you, man,” Ellie spits, jumping to her feet. “I didn’t ask for this!”

“Yeah, you and me both!” he shouts back. “Running fuckin’ errands for Fireflies, some kind of goddamn joke.”

You know why he’s angry. It’s not the first time you’ve heard it, and if you’d stayed in Boston any longer, you know it wouldn’t have been the last. And every single time, Joel had bristled like a cornered animal. You saw the same look on his face that you had when he’d fought with Tommy, when his brother had mentioned giving you over to the Fireflies when he found out what you are.

About five years back, some doctor in New York claimed to have created a cure using the blood of the infected. It even got to the point where people volunteered to be a part of the trial, they had so much faith in the dumb fuck. The hospital he was working out of was overrun within two days. A few months later, another doctor in another QZ had some other hair-brained scheme, on and on it went.

Hell, maybe they’re spouting the same shit in Wyoming. Only time will tell.

“All the more reason not to take her back,” you say, turning to face Joel. “We finish this. We get what we came for, and we get the fuck out of this state.” You reach out for his good hand, rub your thumb across his knuckles. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he grunts, pulling away from you.

You gesture for Ellie to get her things, and as Joel picks up the rifle, her eyes cut to you. “Can I have a gun?”

“Pardon?” you sputter.

Joel cuts his hand through the air. “Absolutely not.”

Tess looks at you like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Fuck no”

“Okay, Jesus, fine,” Ellie nearly whines, “I’ll have to throw a fucking sandwich at them.”

That actually makes you laugh, and Tess shoots you a look. “What? It’s a good visual.”

Huffing, Joel moves towards the door, sliding the cabinet out of the way of the door. As it swings open, more sunlight pours in, the sounds of birds chirping making it almost inviting to step out. Joel leans out the door, looking left and right. “It’s clear.”

Tess brushes past you as she heads out the door, Joel holding it open for her. You turn back to Ellie, who stands hesitantly in the middle of the room, concern clear on her face. “C’mon, kid,” you say to her, tilting your head towards the door. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

Without a word, she follows you out of the salon and onto the open street. As soon as you’re through the door, however, she lets out a quiet holy shit.

“Looks different in the daylight, huh?”

You can’t help but grin a little at the awe on her face as she takes in the half-toppled buildings, crumbled structures and piles of rubble, overturned cars and signs of destruction, but then, amid the signs of the city that had once stood, further proof that nature is taking back what once belonged to it. More moss and leaves and overgrown trees in every corner of every piece of concrete, flocks of birds flying from one building to the next. Sunlight glints off the few intact panes of glass left on a building in the distance, and it makes you squint.

Joel busies himself finding a high point, stepping up on a large piece of concrete to take a look around. He doesn’t look any more concerned than usual, but he glances at Ellie before looking to you. “We should get movin’.

You nod, falling back a step so you can move to his right side. “Let’s go.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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whencyclopedia · 28 days ago

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Revolutionaries : The Other Story of How India Won Its Freedom

In this book, the economist Sanjeev Sanyal explores the often-overlooked armed insurgencies led by Indian freedom fighters against British rule. Through the stories of these freedom fighters' struggles and sacrifices, Sanyal argues that their resistance was crucial in shaping India’s path to independence.

Revolutionaries: The Other Story of How India Won Its Freedom is a popular history book about the sacrifice of the Indian people during the Indian Revolution. The author, Sanjeev Sanyal, is currently a member of the Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi's Economic Advisory Council while previously having worked at Deutsche Bank. The book aims to discuss the often ignored and mostly forgotten armed insurrections against the British Raj that took place alongside the much more celebrated non-violence movement. It recounts the triumphs and tribulations of revered martyrs like Bhagat Singh and Chandrashekhar Azad and the equally deserving, though lesser-known, freedom fighters like Rash Behari Bose and Sachindra Nath Sanyal. However, it is important to keep in mind that the author is not a trained historian but a politician.

This book attempts to change the perception of how the uprising against British rule was a scattered series of events fueled by misguided heroism, doomed to fail in their ultimate goals from the start. It was the doings of a well-planned network of revolutionary cells that stretched not just across the country, but across the world. Delving into the writings of figures like Aurobindo Ghosh and Sachindra Nath Sanyal, this book reveals a different perspective on their actions and goals. Rather than the "extremists" and "terrorists" portrayed by the British and their Indian loyalists, these works showcase mature and rational individuals driven by a deep love for their nation.

In the end, this book turns into a tragedy when readers are shown how only a handful of these revolutionaries lived to see an independent India (as opposed to the majority of the Gandhian faction). It was heartbreaking to see the plight of these revolutionaries and their families in newly independent India - neglected by the very nation they helped liberate. The soldiers of the Indian National Army (INA) or the naval ratings who took part in the naval mutiny of 1946 were not reinstated into independent India’s armed forces. In Pakistan, Jinnah allowed Muslim generals of the INA to join the army that fought wars with India, over Kashmir in 1947-1948. In a bitter twist of irony, the only battles the veterans of the Azad Hind Fauj (INA's Hindi name - literally "Free India Army") fought in after independence, were against an Azad Hind (Free India).

Like all of Sanjeev Sanyal’s books, Revolutionaries uses engaging language and prose, allowing readers to become acquainted with the general picture of Indian history if they are not familiar with this topic. Sanyal has also traveled to many of the places discussed in this book. From the site of the little curry restaurant Rash Behari Bose opened in Japan to the winding Calcutta gullies that witnessed Subhas Chandra Bose's daring escape to Germany, readers get a rich sense of place alongside the historical narrative.

In many of Sanyal's writings about Indian history, he has been attempting to write a revisionist history of India that has received mixed reviews because of its skewed narrative and obvious preference toward one side. His other books include The Ocean of Churn: How the Indian Ocean Shaped Human History (2016) and Land of the Seven Rivers: A Brief History of India's Geography (2012)

#History #India #20thCentury #Independence

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 year ago

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"If we back down from this---there is nothing left"

Lara Logan (God bless her) interviewed Rep Clay Higgins who has a career in law enforcement. I hope Representative Clay Higgins is right. -GRITS

Lara Logan's Truthinmedia.com Episode 9

www.policestatefilm.net @Truth_InMedia

Police State Trailer:

youtube

Episode 9: Rep. Clay Higgins Speaks Out

Clay Higgins brought his investigative skills from the streets of Louisiana where he was a cop for years to the halls of congress, where he’s been investigating January 6th ever since it happened.

We sat down for a tough, far-reaching interview to explore what he’s learned…

Read the Episode Transcript:

Lara – studio intro

We’re breaking with our regular series to bring you a rare, in-depth interview with a man who is no stranger to controversy and doesn’t seem to give a damn what people think of him. Clay Higgins has gone from cop to congressman. And along the way, did things law enforcement officers don’t normally do, like the way he delivered his message in crime stopper videos that earned him the name the “Cajun John Wayne.”

If you look him up online, you’ll find no shortage of articles condemning Clay Higgins as a far-right conspiracy theorist, peddling in crazy, unfounded ideas about January 6th. Then again, these are the same people who told us Hunter Biden’s laptop was Russian disinformation and President Donald Trump was a Russian spy. Simply put, they often lie and we don’t care what they think.

We know we’ve been deceived about January 6th because the narrative has shifted. For example, we now know from court cases and the FBI itself that the bureau did have undercover assets on the ground. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to speak to Representative Higgins. He’s one of the few in Congress who’s challenged the insurrection narrative from the start and as a former law enforcement officer himself knows a thing or two about investigations.

Powerful people who dominate the flow of information don’t want you to hear what he has to say or what he’s learned over the past two and a half years. That alone seems like a compelling reason for us to find out.

Lara

This is a letter from Bennie Thompson, who was chairman of the January 6th Select Committee, and he sent this to TSA, to the Honorable David Pekoske, who’s the administrator for TSA.

They want a briefing on “efforts to address the travel of white supremacists and other domestic terrorist groups. Options for quickly denying air carrier service to individuals posing a potential threat, and current status of efforts to identify and add to watchlists.” How far does this go?

Clay

That letter was the beginning of an executive action by the TSA to use its authority to instruct America’s air marshals to track and follow Trump supporters that have been charged with no crime. They were guilty only of – of arriving by air into D.C. on January 4th, fifth or sixth. And those – those manifest were turned over to the FBI.

The FBI went through those manifest. And every American that they identified, that the FBI identified as a Trump supporter, that was on those manifest was added to the FBI’s suspected domestic terrorist watch list. The FBI create the profile on those people – a suspected terrorist profile, and then the TSA administrator used his authority to instruct air the Marshals of America to track those Americans wherever they fly and

Lara

Still today?

Clay

It’s still happening. This is who our air marshals are following, the Trump supporters and that letter signed by Bennie Thompson, who was chair of the J6 Select Committee and signed by John Katko, who at the time was a ranking member.

Lara

A Republican.

Clay

He was the lead Republican of the Homeland Security Committee advising the- the Pekoske, the TSA senior guy to use all of that authority to track Trump supporters that have not been charged with a crime. They were guilty only of arriving in D.C. by air.

Lara

And every time they fly, they’re being tracked?

Clay

That’s right.

Lara

If they have never been convicted of terrorism, why are they on the terror watch list? It’s a violation of the First Amendment. They exercise their First Amendment rights. They’re being punished for it. It’s a violation of the Fourth Amendment. I mean, how many laws does this violate? How many rights does this violate? This is not a free country.

Lara

You’re not a free country where you’re tracked by air marshals, by the way, at taxpayer expense. And we’re not talking about an insignificant expense. Teams of three air marshals tracing people all over the country? You’re putting physical detail onto people.

Clay

That’s right

Lara

That’s the most expensive form of surveillance that exists.

Clay

Let me say – let me clarify. It’s very comforting to Americans to think that there’s, there might be an air marshal on your flight.

Lara

Not if they’re tracking you for your political beliefs.

Clay

Well, not if they’re being used for nefarious purposes. But the people that are complaining about this are the air marshals themselves, digital whistleblowers that are coming forward to tell a congressman that they felt would pay attention.

Lara

This has been going on since January ‘21 and you just found out about it. What else is going on, that we don’t know about?

Clay

We don’t know, but I’m telling you, we’re in uncharted waters as it relates to the weaponization of our government against the American people. I am not frightened of these people. I’ve spent my life serving others and and I love my country. This thing is not going to just slip away. They’re not going to take us without a fight.

Clay

And I’m going to fight legally and peacefully and within the parameters of the Constitution that I’ve sworn to serve, but they’re going down. These – these men, and their high perch in there, their position of power and authority and are walking upon our entire history, our deepest core principles. They’re not going to get away with it.

Lara

They have so far.

Clay

We’ll see.

Lara

Powerful people in this country. They want to make sure no one hears your voice. They want everyone to look at you like a far-right, crazy conspiracy theorist. Is that who you are?

Clay

No, m’am. I’m a regular American man. I’m an investigator – police officer by background. I’m going to continue to speak the truth, whether anybody likes it or not.

Lara

You’ve always been controversial. I mean, even when you were in law enforcement, you did those crimestopper videos that went viral. People loved them. You got a lot of heat for them, too.

The Gremlin Street gang is responsible for hundreds of violent crimes: Murders, armed robberies, witness intimidation, burglaries, drug trafficking, extortion, and brutal beatings.

We’ve arrested 10 of these thugs and have warrants on seven more. You will be hunted, you will be tracked, and if you raise your weapon to a man like me, we’ll return fire with superior firepower.

Darren Carter – you think men like these are afraid of an uneducated, 125-pound punk like you? That’s never won a fair fight in your life and hold your gun sideways? Young man, I’ll meet you on solid ground any time, anywhere. Light or heavy. Makes no difference to me. You won’t walk away. And for those who would use this message as a way to create false racial division in our country, take a close look behind me. Standing next to every cop is a leader of our black community. This is not about race. It’s about right versus wrong.

Lara

Was that your idea with you? Were you the reason behind that?

Clay

Those videos, those public service announcements were part of my job that the sheriff asked me to perform.

Lara

Because you were the press officer? Public affairs person?

Clay

Public service, but that was a late in my career. I didn’t ask for that position, I had been a swat cop for long time. In fact, when the sheriff asked me to to take that role, I first I thought he was joking. And I told the sheriff, “I don’t know how to do that.” and he said, “well there, it’s easy.”

Clay

And you show up where the TV people tell you to show up and you stand where they tell you to stand and somebody holds the script for you and you read it. I did that a couple of weeks. I read the script, but I was uncomfortable with that because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t reflective of what I had been telling actual suspects for many years.

Clay

In the dead of night. That direct conversation that a lone cop will have, whether a young man has taken a wrong turn in life and asked to be arrested. That’s a very special communication for a good cop.

Lara

How do you do that, Clay? How do you have that conversation?

Clay

Well, you speak candidly and honestly and from your heart with compassion, but discipline and confidence. I mean, if – if I show up in your life at 2:00 in the morning, it is not because you’ve had a good day. I don’t consider you to be a bad man. You’ve just done something that has crossed a line and – according to statute, and I’m ‘a help you through the booking process and hopefully lead you to a better day.

Clay

Their only path really to freedom was through my jail and – and real freedom. Spiritual freedom would – would be if they could break the bonds of darkness, you know. So the way I deliver the message when I began having to record video segments, I just communicated in that same honest manner. And – and what started happening is people started turning themselves in.

Lara

People responded. And even beyond your little sheriff’s department in Louisiana.

Clay

It was big.

Lara

Right?

Clay

Worldwide. Some of those videos, wh- they were translated in eight languages, I’m told. IT people told me they were viewed 150 million times across the world.

Lara

No one had seen anything like it.

Clay

It was just honesty. And that’s what I do in Congress.

Lara

Well, there is another video of you that went viral not so long ago, which is when you at that press conference on the Hill and that activist kept coming up and you leaned in and took your sunglasses down, you told him, “I’m going to give you an interview. I’ll give you what you want, but this is what you got to do.”

Lara

And then he came back.

Clay

You had a Freedom Caucus press conference immediately following a Bernie Sanders-like rally. So they had, you know, not necessarily a good mix. You – one could anticipate there might be some activists there that that would not necessarily agree with the kind of things we were saying in our in our press conference. And one of those little fellas figured out there was no police around.

Clay

So he wanted to be more aggressive than he should have been.

Man causing a scene: Can you talk about when your family did an ad all endorsing your opponent and…?

Clay

And he came on and saw the barriers, you know, into the press area. He was not a journalist.

Lara

He was walking right between the group of congressmen.

Clay

Yeah, he came – he was trying to get around to Lauren Boebert and I had already dressed him down a little bit and put him in a box.

Man causing a scene: You can’t answer the question that he has.

Clay: No I can answer the question.

Man: Okay, listen, What’s your name?

Clay: Clay Higgins. I represent South Louisiana. All I’m asking you is to just peacefully stand by with your camera. I promise ya – look at me – I’ll come talk to you straight up and answer all your questions. Fair enough?

Man: Do you know about his family and his endorsement? Yeah.

Clay: I’ll answer that when we talk.

Clay

That didn’t last but maybe a minute and he decided to get even more aggressive, so I just – I had to escort him out of the area. I turned him over to the police. That was the end of it.

Lara

I like the way you say “escort him out.” You basically picked him up and walked him over and put him down.

Clay

That was an escort.

Lara

That’s a Clay Higgins escort?

Clay

That’s a Clay Higgins escort, Yeah.

Lara

And you stayed very calm and said, “Calm yourself.”

Clay

Calm down, son.

Lara

It sounded like you’d said those words before.

Clay

Yeah, I’ve said them before. Kind of where we are as a nation right now. It calls for calm consideration and response to the oppression that we face from within. It’s – it’s quite nefarious.

Lara

Tell me what you mean. What do we face as a nation?

Clay

Generationally, we have allowed our federal law enforcement agencies to gradually become commanded by corrupted men, and they’ve been corrupted not so much by money, but by power. And that power really began manifesting itself insidiously with The FBI and DOJ and our intelligence services since 9/11, since the Patriot Act. We gave them great authorities and power.

Clay

Those powers are no longer being – being used to thwart terrorists. They’re being used to oppress the individual rights and freedoms of regular Americans like me and like the citizens I’ve sworn to serve. So I have a problem with that.

Lara

The counter to that would be these are not ordinary citizens. These are domestic terrorists. Because that’s, I mean, it’s very clear from Christopher Wray, the letter that he wrote about parents going to school board meetings that need to be investigated as terrorists. You speak at a Moms for Liberty event today, you get targeted by the Anti-Defamation League or the Southern Poverty Law Center or someone like that as a domestic terrorist. And these organizations are working very closely with not just social media companies, but with law enforcement.

Clay

Regular patriotic American men and women are not terrorists. Let me say the factions within our highest levels of federal law enforcement – And I and I and I – FBI and DOJ and intelligence services, these corrupted men we’re discussing, they could be more readily identified and more accurately described as domestic terrorists than – than me. They’re the ones treading upon my individual rights and freedoms. They’re the ones that’s spying on – on Americans. They’re the ones traveling uh great distances to, to insert themselves into the lives of Americans that are just communicating freely, as is our right online or anywhere else, at meetings as we congregate and gather.

Lara

What about those who say your, your right to gather and uh have a conversation doesn’t give you a right to assault police officers and disrupt Congress and so on?

Clay

I don’t support battery on police officers or, uh, nor – nor violent disruption of – of government operations, but I will remind everyone that a free American has a right to resist an unlawful arrest.

Lara

At the last hearing where you addressed Christopher Wray, you produced a photograph of what you called “ghost buses.”

These two buses in the middle here, they were the first to arrive at Union Station on January 6th. Zero 5-hundred. I have all this evidence. I’m showing you the tip of this iceberg.

Lara

Your point really was that they’re unmarked vehicles full of individuals that have not been explained. Is that right?

Clay

A “ghost vehicle” in law enforcement is not an uncommon reference. It’s vehicle has been purposefully concealed to – to whereby it’s not easy to identify. So no license plate. It’s been painted over its original cover. In this case, these two buses were totally painted white, like a cheap, vast overspray over all of the markings. So when you have two charter buses show up, the very first buses to show up in Union Station on January 6th…

Lara

Around 5 a.m.?

Clay

Around 5 a.m. The initial witness, another charter bus owner, arrived at – at 5:20. He thought he would be the first to arrive because he knew the schedule of all the other charter buses and he knew that most the buses would begin arriving around 6. So this charter bus operator was very experienced man. Very squared away. When he arrived with his couple of buses, these two white buses were – were to his surprise already there, and he immediately noticed that these buses were odd because they were totally painted over. It was a bad paint job. There was no markings, no phone numbers, no company name, totally outside the parameters of the way charter buses are required to operate and by law. So he said, “these buses are weird” and no one was getting out.

Clay

So something else that happens within that charter bus driver community is the drivers know each other. The passengers may stay on a bus if they’re especially in a parking lot, and not ready to disembark yet.

Lara

Sure.

Clay

The passengers might stay on a bus, but the bus drivers get off and they talk to each other.

Clay

They talk to the other bus drivers. So there are things that happen normally that the absence of that happening was odd. So he was suspicious enough of these buses as a professional, that he collected some digital evidence of those buses and then estimated with him and – and other eyewitnesses between 40 and 50 guys that they described as “Trump supporters.”

Clay

They all disembarked from the bus and they gathered in front of – of the two buses and they had like some kind of discussion, a briefing like the way a military leader would address his troops.

Lara

Yeah, they call it a huddle.

Clay

And then they together went to the escalators and up into Union Station and were gone.

Lara

And they were all men?

Clay

They were all men in all the Trump regalia. These men were in really good shape. They made comments like, “Wow, these are real serious Trump supporters. These guys” and they said they all had elbow pads and knee pads. And least they appeared like they had common equipment, but they were not in uniform, but they – they behaved in a uniform manner. 0

Clay

And we intend to get all of that video evidence from Union Station, from the escalators, from the parking lot. We have other eyewitnesses, much to the chagrin of everybody that was in those buses and everyone who commanded them to be there. We’ve identified one of those buses. And you know what that means? That means that’s their ass, because a bus is a serial numbered vehicle.

Clay

And in America, the change of ownership of a serial numbered vehicle…

Lara

Is recorded.

Clay

Is documented. So that means we can begin to trace from the original owner of that bus where it was sold and who bought it, and then who it was leased to and where it disappeared. And then eventually those buses were removed from the Union Station and we’re going to document all of that.

Lara

So you believe that those buses held undercover officers, not informants? Correct?

Clay

I feel very, very confident that – that everybody that was on those two buses were FBI assets.

And I have a high degree of belief there were actual FBI agents. And – and I’m, I’m sorry to say, ma’am, my objective conclusion is that – that senior officials at the at the FBI were deeply involved there.

Clay

You had a combination of FBI confidential informants either registered, unregistered – or a volunteer informant, or actual FBI agents depending upon a group and how significant a group was. Like the agents inserted in say the Proud Boys groups that we’re going to come to D.C. Those are most probably actual FBI agents. Whereas some, you know, random Facebook group of patriots from Arizona or something were most likely an informant.

Clay

So it would still fall under the umbrella of an “FBI asset” if they were communicating with the FBI – data that they were harvesting and information that they were recording and delivering it to the FBI, screenshots of text chats or actual recordings of phone calls, things like that – that they were delivering to the FBI, all part of the web of surveillance of the American people.

Lara

What have you seen? What can you tell us about? I know you can’t get ahead of everything. I know there’s limitations on some of this, but can you tell us anything?

Clay

I can tell you that, that the FBI had, had established a formula in 2020 that, that they pursued with all their – their power and authority to infiltrate groups across the country of Americans that were essential discussing online. They’d formed online groups.

Lara

Like chat rooms?

Clay

Yeah, like chat rooms.

Lara

Discord and Telegram.

Clay

Etc. to discuss their frustrations with COVID oppression and so the FBI identified groups and and – and infiltrated them with undercover operations that were very effective and they began planting seeds of discord. If you track the – the text threads, which I’ve – I’ve seen some of again, through evidence that I’ve been able to witness, but I cannot, I cannot share publicly because it would be in violation of – of court orders.

Lara

But to be clear, this is video you’ve seen with your own eyes?

Clay

Yes, ma’am. The evidence that was in criminal cases.

Lara

Is this what it’s based on? It’s based on the digital evidence, what you have on camera and supporting evidence for that and other kinds?

Clay

Yeah, eyewitness testimony, sworn testimony, affidavits, text messages, emails, and digital – digital footage. Yes, ma’am.

Lara

A lot of people would say “Clay, you’re lawman, right? That’s what we do. We infiltrate groups where we perceive there to be a threat or potential of crime being committed. We have undercover officers. We have undercover assets like informants. This is the bread and butter of law enforcement. What are you complaining about?”

Clay

They were the criminals. They were the threat.

Lara

Based on what?

Clay

We were just Americans. We were Americans that were that were angry and – and we were enraged that our freedoms were being oppressed and that FBI and the powers that had become corrupted, the those – those bad actors within the federal government that had this authority, they said “these Americans, how dare those Americans challenge the oppression that we’re putting upon them.”

Lara

Can you share any of the messages yet that you have said you traced back to FBI undercovers inside these groups and these chats?

Clay

No m’am.

Lara

Will you share it when you can?

The moment that I’m able to reveal that – that stuff, I will.

Lara

You said specifically that you saw that there were undercover police officers who were inside the Capitol before any of the protesters came in.

Clay

That’s right.

Lara

How do you know that? And can you give us any sense of what that means?

Clay

I mean, if you clearly have men dressed as Trump supporters walking around inside the Capitol on the other side of police officers who are, to one extent or another, not engaged with them, like they’re not concerned about them.

Lara

Right.

Clay

Then you have a set of closed doors like exterior doors and interior doors closed, and you have police officers positioned outside and then in between the two doors and then on the inside of the second set of doors –

Clay

Doors weren’t open yet.

Lara

What time was this?

Clay

This was – a couple of videos that Trump was still speaking and then on the inside, it looked like Trump supporters walking around in groups of five or six, so these were clearly separated physically and by doors and by police officers from the guys on the outside.

Any reasonable man would come to the conclusion– When you have videos of the doors being opened and police officers allowing Trump supporters that had gathered at the door to now enter, no violence, just walking in. “Just come on in, some fist bumps, and come in.” A second set of doors open, then there’s a group of Trump supporters on the steps, interior steps saying, “Come on this way, this way.”

Lara

What does that tell you?

Clay

Any reasonable man would look at that and say this was a coordinated effort by a law enforcement to have these people come in to. So who was that? They had to be, you know, I think as nefarious forces and part of the whole agenda of the – of the FBI with their involvement of this whole thing. We have other evidence, specific observations of police officers, Capitol police or metro, both entering rooms and here in the Capitol in uniform and coming out as Trump supporters and construction workers.

Lara

You’ve seen that?

Clay

Yeah, so…

Lara

Why has that video not been released yet?

Clay

One would say that’s a pretty good clue.

Lara

Yeah.

Clay

The other reason that we believe it’s just practical to have someone who knows how to get around, I mean, you know yourself, you can’t walk around his place. You have to be here for years and years.

Lara

The capitol is a maze.

Clay

That’s right. And it’s incredibly difficult to get around. You have to know where you’re going.

Clay

You had to have people that were very familiar with the the capital itself in order to lead to random groups of citizens that have come from every corner of the country in many cases, never been to D.C. before, much less walked around in the capital. So it – it just makes sense that the Trump supporters that were leading the way and were clearly already inside the capital before the doors were open, were working in coordination with the FBI agents and assets that were embedded into the crowd.

Clay

In some cases in these groups had been embedded for months. This is ugly stuff we’re discussing, but the American people deserve to know the truth and I intend to see that it happens.

Lara

A lot of people just won’t believe it without – they have to see the evidence or they just don’t believe you.

Clay

I don’t want to believe these things. I’ve been a cop for a long time, since I was a little boy. The FBI shield was – that was the baddest ass badge a cop could ever earn. It was an honored achievement to become an FBI agent so it’s with great pain I describe the corruption that has taken hold within our FBI, and we intend to clean it up because these rank-and-file FBI agents, let me tell you that a lot of these men and women are quite disturbed about what has happened to their beloved FBI. Same thing inside the DOJ. We have an obligation as Americans to embrace truth, whether it’s ugly or not, so that we can take corrective action.

Lara

Okay so you have the floor now, but you don’t know how much longer you have it for, right? And you don’t have forever.

Clay

We don’t.

Lara

And it’s been how long?

Clay

10 months.

Lara

10 months?

Clay

Some things have not happened that – that – that the conservatives within the people’s house would like to happen. We’ve had some disagreements internally regarding who shall be our speaker. We just had to go through what we went through in order to arrive at that particular junction of American history where a man like Mike Johnson became our speaker. Mike gets it, that all the digital evidence of for instance J6 has to be released to the American people, talking about altogether between 40 and 50,000 hours of digital evidence.

Clay

No one has a staff large enough to go through that evidence. So it has to be crowdsourced, have to give this stuff to the American people. And then the truth will be revealed, clip by clip.

Lara

Mike Johnson has released precisely 12 and a half thousand hours of that 40,000, and he’s not releasing 5%, which is 2,000 hours. Whether it’s for a good reason or a bad reason, it provides opportunity to hide whatever you want in those 2,000 hours. I’m not saying he’s hiding something because I don’t know.

Lara

But I’m just saying is when you’re withholding 2,000 hours, you can put whatever you want in that 2,000 hours. There are American citizens who are sitting in jail, some of them for three years without a trial. People have gone to solitary confinement for misdemeanor charges, nonviolent misdemeanor charges.

Lara

They’re still arresting people. You expect people to go to an election and vote when they don’t even have answers on their questions on the last election. And over time, more and more and more evidence is coming out in court cases. Right? Judges that wouldn’t take those cases when the light was on them. Now they’re not able to avoid them anymore. So what are you waiting for?

Lara

The people who don’t want the truth out have complete information dominance.

Lara

Right? You come out with something, you have a committee hearing? Dismissed. Conspiracy theories. “Ah Higgins. He’s a far right lunatic. Now, you know, don’t listen to him.” And so there are millions of people in this country that read The New York Times every day. Some of them were in this room, right? They hear you saying this and they think you’re just a nut.

Lara

You’re just a nut. And where’s the evidence or Mike Johnson’s going to release it? What is he waiting for?

Clay

The truth of what happened on those days, J 4 or 5 and 6 is in the digital evidence that Speaker Johnson has control of. And thank God we have a speaker who has stated that he is committed to release all of that data. Now he’s restrained to the extent that he’s restrained by attorneys, but he’s an attorney himself.

Clay

And, and we’ll see. When you when you say not going to release at all, I say, let’s see.

Lara

Well, those were his words, not mine.

Clay

Well, I know the man’s heart and it is pure and he knows that American needs full truth. I believe, I speak on behalf of “we the people” when I say we demand full release. The whole thing. Not just from the Capitol grounds and within the Capitol proper by the way. We want it all. We want all the DC Metro digital evidence. We need evidence from Union Station and and some other spots that we’ve identified.

Lara

Can you tell me any of those spots that you’ve identified, Union Station being one. What other the spots?

Clay

The parking areas and, and areas for dismemberment.

Lara

What do you mean by that?

Clay

The escalator areas where you can connect the dots from agents disembarking from vehicles and going either on foot to their stations and their teams of three and four and five, or getting in other vehicles that were dispersed and where some actions were noted that were born of of those vehicles, where some actions were taken, nefarious stuff.

Lara

What can potentially happen there? If you were a J6 defendant who’s in prison or was convicted of a crime, but you find out later that – that Brady material was withheld from you in violation of the law, is there legal redress for you here?

Clay

Yeah, that would flip the case. The bottom line is that if we are successful, if Mike Johnson is successful at getting all the digital evidence from J4, 5, and 6 released entirely to the American people, including the body cam footage of – of – of every police officer that was either operating in uniform or not in uniform, shall we say, then all these J6 I call “persecutions”, these political prisoners, those cases will be flipped because it’s exculpatory evidence that’s been withheld and the prosecution has a legal responsibility to provide exculpatory evidence that they’re in possession of to the defense. In this case, in every one of these J6 cases that have been prosecuted, the FBI and the DOJ has most certainly been in possession of all the digital evidence that we’re describing right now. If we’re successful at getting that evidence released to the American people, the American people are going to be stunned into acceptance of the reality that our FBI and our DOJ, and in some cases, head people in our intelligence services, have been corrupted by power.

Lara

Have you seen all the video? I know it’s a lot.

Clay

it’s a lot.

Lara

Have you seen the key parts?

Clay: I’ve seen many segments of video that most Americans have not seen, that is incredibly condemning. They’re so desperate to keep this digital evidence away from Americans, just regular citizen’s review, that they’re going through quite complex legal maneuvers to stop Americans from viewing this evidence. Every American that’s watching this should ask themselves why. Whether you’re liberal or conservative, ask yourself why.

Lara

Why do you think?

Clay

Why are you concealing that evidence from me? Why can’t I see that? It’s video from my own capital. People have a tendency to forget, especially my liberal brothers and sisters across the country. This is your country. This is your capital. You have the right to know what actually happened in 2020 in the months preceding J4, 5, and 6. You have the right to see the digital evidence of what truly happened in your capital on January 4th, 5th, and 6th. This is my position.

https://shop.salemnow.com/product/police-state/

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Lara Logan spoke to Steve Bannon's War Room:

https://rumble.com/v41yu2q-bannons-war-room-rep.-clay-higgins-speaks-out-.html

For every martyr: Please forgive us & know your suffering is temporary. 💔

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#police state film #Colour Revolution #lara logan #clay higgins #january 6 #Demand the truth #Banana Republic #clinton crime family #Bush Crime Family #biden crime family #Cheney Crime Family #Obama Crime Family #Brookings Institute #susan rice #Norm Eisen #C.R.E.W.#Todd Agnew

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