#visceral masquerade

[snootdroops]

“Sister…Your turn”

Bringing to you some Shella and Bella content, 2 in one body, Shella and Bella fused together when the outbreak, still even fused Shella looks after her sister from flanks or attacks she cant block and if needed they both switch control

[megkuna]

every time i hyperfixate on something and then i enter the fandom and then the fandom turns me off the hyperfixation and the thing i loved becomes tainted by bad fandom experience forever. i do this over and over again and i can't be saved lol.

[yuzupoll]

Notte Stellata

Masquerade

[rqbossman]

Hello, Alex!

I'm new-ish to the TMA universe, so I apologize if you've answered this one twenty times already.

I was recently re-listening to Ep. 118 The Masquerade, and I wondered if you would talk a bit about how you approach directing scenes in which you're also performing, especially really visceral ones like the one between Elias and Martin?

Thank you!

It's quite annoying really. it's easier these days since I have more help so producers and editors can call me up on stuff. Mostly it was just a case of going by feel. If it felt wrong then I need to figure out if it was me or someone else and go from there. Truthfully though I never really developed a system beyond "really pay attention" which isn't great advice really.

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HAZBIN WAS SO FUCKING GOOD IM GOING INSANE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKENFKCMKWJRKFNSMSMDMSMDN-

Okay. Okay deep breaths. Time for some cool and collected comentary. Okay.

Putting it under the cut so ppl can avoid spoilers :)

HUSK USED TO BE AN OVERLORD!?!?!?!?!? HELLO!?!?!?!?!? FUCKIN PLOTTWIST OF THE CENTURY WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!?!?

Huskerdust my beloved

SIR PENTIOUS MY BELOVED

Vox was great. I love him he's so fucking cool-

If Vox wasn't already a Tumblr sexyman he's definitely gonna be one now. He's so fucking Onceler coded it's insane.

Velvette was amazing too. It's so funny that she's British lmao I was not expecting that

Velvette is also very Anne Boelyne(like from SIX not from Real Life) coded it's wild. Her part in that song with Carmila was giving so much Don't Lose Your Head

I swear I'll stop comparing them to other characters I SWEAR

Okay but me and my brother are working on a Hazbin Hotel swap AU where we swap the main cast with the overlords and in that AU we swapped Husk and Vox. The Husk used to be an overlord reveal is gonna make that AU soooooo much easier lmao

ADAM IS REALLY GOOD I promised I would stop comparing to other characters but he was giving SO MUCH Hades from Disney's Hercules like its insane

I think we should let Alex Brightman sing rocj and roll more often that song was such a fucking BANGER

SPEAKING OF THE SONGS- oh my god I love the soundtrack so fucking much-

Stayed Gone was a lil less hype then I was expecting but thats okay cuz it was still a banger and I loved the visuals

That song battle between Carmilla and Velvette????? Oh my god??????

Carmilla and Vaggie's song was also amazing but I think I know why they didn't have Stephanie Beatriz sing her own song in Elena of Avalor y'know, girl cannot hold a character voice while singing

LOSER WAS SO FUCKING GOOD- I love Huskerdust so much. I love Keith David so much. Blake Roman is such a phenomenal Angel Dust.

SPEAKING OF all the voice actors are amazing. Blake Roman, Brightman as Pentious and Joel Perez were the ones I was the most worried abt but I loved all their preformances so much it was fucking fantastic

Valentino can go die in a fucking hole <3

The other Vees are cool and fun to watch but I hope Valentino fucking dies

Okay to be fair he's also fun to watch when he's not in the same room as Angel Dust but tHAT DOESNT SUPERSEID MY HATRED FUCK 👏 THAT 👏 GUY 👏👏👏👏

Speaking of the Vees tho I do love their dynamic

My favorite episode was probably Radio Killed the Video Star bcuz of mY BOYS PENTIOUS AND VOX!!!!!!!!

And the most painful episode to watch was- no surprise- Masquerade

That episode was a fucking rollercoaster Jesus fucking Christ...

Those scenes with Angel and Valentino where so fucking visceral... like. Who the fuck wrote that. Who are you. Are you okay. Do you need help-

Tho I'm not sure abt how they're handling the ah- more serious bits of Angel's character. It is WAYYYYYY to early to tell and I think Loser wasn't like. Trying to downplay the situation. But the writers better have been careful moving foreward bcuz I can def see a world where Angel's arc goes very wrong very fast-

Also while we're criticizing: wasn't a fan of the pacing. Especially in episode two. Like I can look past it, but the way they breeze past some plot points kinda bugged me

Otherwise it was sooooooo fucking good man oh my god

THE HUMOR WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN PPL MAKE IT OUT TO BEEEEEE PPL NEED TO STOP SHITTING ON THE COMEDY IN THESE SHOWS MAN-

The gag where Niffty just fucking stopped thinking every time the camera turned on was so fucking good

Niffty in general was really fuckin funny

Alastor was a lot less prominent of a character then I thought he would be but tbh I think that's for the best. He's like Discord from My Little Pony, fun in small doses but if you don't set perameters for how often he appears and when he's willing to help it kinda breaks the show

Chaggie is adorable and I love them <3

I think this show does a really good job balancing the focus on the whole cast! These first 4 episodes seem to be pretty Charlie, Angel and kind of Vaggie heavy but everybody still gets their fair share of attention!

THE ANIMATIOJ OH MY GOD- IT WAS FUCKING PHENOMENAL IM LOSING MY M I N D

Im going feral IM GOING FERAL THIS EXCEEDED MY EXPECTATIONS AKFNVKKENFEKFNDN

I love comedy. I love musicals. I love drama. I love silly characters. I LOVE ANIMATION!!!!!!!

It's like the South Park movie but longer and better animated and IVE BEEN WAITING FOUR FUCKING YEARS-

Just. So excited overall. Can't wait to see where it goes. May make more posts abt my thoughts in tbe future.

[demeterdefence]

i had some time to chill i took a walk i drank some water i still hate this sequence

fastpass spoilers and sexual assault references ahead

i mentioned a few weeks ago how much i disliked persephone's last interaction with apollo and how the narrative wants to insist that persephone has moved on / healed from her assault, and with the last chapter and fastpass spoilers, it has genuinely just gotten worse. like at this point i can't even fault the characters or their choices, this is 1000% a rachel thing, and i hope her computer crashes in the middle of an eight hour drawing that she hasn't saved ANYWAYS

i don't think it needs to be said that rachel sexualizes her abuse victim. like, there's a reason that hera is naked during her fight with kronos despite kronos being clothed; there's a reason persephone was alone and apollo had his shirt undone when they spoke on the phone before the press conference. it's masquerading as feminine empowerment, but it just seeks to emphasize how rachel sexualizes abuse, and how she will still try to redeem these male characters.

it's very telling that while she's having kronos monologue how sad and abused he was, and how he was ruled by fear, we cut to a shot of apollo and eros with the love arrow - another plot point that drove me absolutely bonkers but we'll get to that. the placement is not random, for all that it feels it; she's trying to draw a connection between apollo and kronos, how they're both ruled by fear.

apollo is planning to assault persephone again. this is not me being dramatic or exaggerating - he knows what the arrow does, he knows persephone hates him, he is absolutely planning to assault her again for his own purposes. whether kronos' apology was intended to be sincere or not, placing apollo in the visual middle of it sets a tone. he has abused persephone in the past and he will abuse her again.

the next time apollo and persephone interact, persephone has figured out how to make spring again (somehow, without explanation, one trainwreck at a time i guess.)

i don't love her plan, and i don't love how it came about, but on the top ten list of crimes in this webcomic, it's not the worst. persephone plays up her "weak, damsel in distress" image to apollo so he'll underestimate her - fine, whatever, not the end of the world. it's how rachel depicts this that i take issue with.

it took me a couple of minutes for that last picture to realize they're supposed to be struggling because it genuinely looks like they're making out lmao thanks rachel i hate it

not entirely related but the way the lineart becomes minuscule except on the face and chest rachel really shows her priorities

i'll skip a few more panels of apollo manhandling persephone with her doing pretty much nothing to fight back - she alternates between pleading with him to listen to her when he has historically never done so, and threatening to expose him for the rape, which also historically has never worked, but that's about the extent of her fight back. this is all before she knows about the arrow, so i'm hesitant to say she's playing him with her distress; this is genuinely the extent of her fight back.

a clear callback to the assault, which in another author's hands might have succeeded in being harrowing and traumatizing for the readers, but just filled me with visceral anger.

[narrator voice] fucking yikes!

ties her up, but don't worry! her chest will be on prominent display no matter what.

unrelated tangent once again but i love! how rachel has retconned the narrative so that ouranos was manipulating apollo all along! instead of apollo owning up to being a shitheel, we've got a master manipulator in the background, who can take some of the blame for apollo's actions! cool!!!

anyways persephone's plan is to make apollo fall in love with her, so he'll feel bad about raping her.

that's it.

we don't get persephone defeating apollo. we don't get persephone getting actual justice. it takes apollo being under the control of magic to admit what happened - it's a cheap cop-out, a lukewarm offering at best. i'm not joking, either, in the fastpass apollo quite literally goes on live television and admits he raped persephone, because he's under the magic of the love arrow. not because he genuinely feels bad, or because persephone got justice - it's a deus ex machina to wrap up the assault plotline. rachel never figured out if apollo was a master manipulator or some idiot tool, so she swerves between both, and then tosses the plot out to make room for something else.

it's such a miserable, cheap conclusion to a storyline that so many women have dealt with. years of waiting for apollo to be brought to justice, and he goes out with a little whimper, and persephone's assault gets swept under the rug again.

what a disappointment.

[ammoknightsofficial]

I like LouiMar in an academic way. I appreciate the kind of themes and character drama people cook up with it, how I've mostly seen LouiMar used as a method of character exploration, and how a lot of people don't shy away from more adult themes with it, like the cheating aspect. As a gay man, I appreciate A LOT how it is the main ship in the fandom, and I've never once seen the fact that it's a gay ship be called attention to aside from explorations of Olimar's mentality and sexuality. I like how the gay part of it isn't the main appeal to people, it's the characters and how they work together or against each other. It's genuinely interesting. I love seeing what people do with it. It's the most respectful I've seen a fandom handle a gay relationship at large.

I do not ship it though, because I think Olimar being, like, a cishet hardworking family man, and everything society wants, is a huge part of his character, and making him a part of an "other" really stunts the visceral criticism of capitalism and social standards within the text of the games. It weakens the sheerness of the dichotomy between Louie and Olimar- Olimar representing the pinnacle to Louie's nadir. Louie's everything society hates, and he isn't at fault for it. He's a victim to harsh, oppressive social and societal standards he cannot live up to. Olimar is everything society wants, the perfect everyman, and he's suffering under these systems, too. He's a model citizen, and yet we see him descend into an increasingly more and more unkind person from Pikmin 1-3, due to pressures that society expects him to be able to handle with a smile.

Louie refuses the masquerade. He rejects the notion that he "should" be anything, that he needs to change himself for the easy consumption of others. He doesn't feel at home on Hocotate, and while he does fine on the Planet of the Pikmin, and would prefer to live there, he still finds himself hurting over being forgotten and rejected. Both of these men lack choices. Olimar has to keep up a brutal, soul-sucking grind to provide for his family, Louie is constantly bossed around, thrown around, told what he should be, that he's unacceptable as he is, and never given the option to be himself in peace or choose what he gets to do with his life.

Society's Best/Society's Worst type of dynamic. Both under pressure to keep performing. Neither have a say in the matter. It's a very interesting duality.

[doomzday-zone]

the base premise of into the pit is such a visceral horror too....... like this is a stranger taking a child, and you can argue whether or not oswald could be considered actually kidnapped it still relies on the same principles.

thats not my dad.

this Thing masquerading as your father, taking you away by force. and nobodies a smidge the wiser. no matter how much you may beg and plead, no one believes you, i mean. why should they? after all

youre just a kid.

and its not THAT far fetched right? everyone's had at least one moment in their youth, a particular disagreement with a parent, and suddenly your hatching a (very juvenile) plan to run away. right?

thats not my dad. thats not my dad.

and still you may whine and cry, you know for a fact thats not your father. if one would believe anyone they would believe you, right? surely you, one whose entire existence was constructed from the visage of your father, would know the man most intimately. right?

No. surely a father would know his own son.

thats not my dad. thats not my dad. thats not my dad.

right?

[hazbinarchives]

Masquerade (Hide Your Face So The World Will Never Find You)

Characters: Angel Dust, Charlie Warnings: panic attacks, mention of violence and abuse, abusive relationships Ship(s): briefly mentioned Chaggie (charlie x vaggie), implied HuskerDust (angel dust x husker) Set: S1 E4 Tags: soft, charlie/angel friendship, abuse, hurt/comfort, pre-huskerdust, established chaggie Words: 1805 ❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂

Angel had known it would be a rough day from the moment he had woken up that morning. Val had already been giving him shit for the past week since he moved into the hotel and hearing the constant love bombing and death threats were starting to get tiring.

An emergency shoot was the last thing he needed on his plate.

Then, of course, there was Charlie.

There was something so utterly terrifying about seeing Charlie in Valentino's studio. The way she looked around so innocently clashed violently with the naked bodies walking around and the smell of cigars and booze.

Angel felt his body move almost as if on autopilot. He was shoving the demon pinning him to the bed and scrambling to grab his robe, Angel's eyes seeming stuck on Charlie.

All he knew was that he desperately needed to get to Charlie before Val did.

Angel snatched Charlie's wrist as soon as she was within reach, looking around in a blind panic.

"What in the ever-loving-fuck are you doing here?!"

"I am the Princess of Hell, Angel! And I will go where I please!" Charlie had said in a snooty royal accent. Angel, who normally loved her antics though he'd never show, could feel his eye twitch and his heart race as he tried to usher her out of the studio. "I'm here to get you some time off for the hotel. Now where's your boss?"

Of fucking course.

Angel took a shuddering breath, pulling Charlie back to where she entered from.

"You are going nowhere near Val--"

The thought of her this close to Valentino made Angel feel physically ill. He could throw up. Probably would later. He just needed to get Charlie out of there.

But then again, when has Angel ever gotten anything he wanted.

Val was as impatient as ever and soon locked eyes on the princess.

Angel's breathing picked up and he felt something sharp and angry claw through his rib cage. Fear was choking him so viscerally as Val swooped close and examined Charlie like he was checking her quality.

Angel winced, anger pricking inside as Val's tongue slithered along Charlie's arm in place of a greeting like a fucking normal person.

"I just wanted to come to aggressively kindly talk to you about Angel--" Charlie had started and Angel flailed, not even sure if he was breathing at this point. "Later! Of course. I wouldn't wanna stand in the way of your work!"

Angel froze as Valentino turned to face him, feeling ice drip into his veins at the rage simmering off of the overlord. No one was allowed to get in the way of Valentino's work, Angel knew he had killed for less.

But...Val didn't do anything. He just went back to directing.

Still, Angel didn't breathe.

And it only got worse and worse.

Charlie was just trying to be helpful and Angel knew that but she always got into things she had no business being a part of. She never should have been here, she never should have gotten on Val's radar.

Angel felt his lungs seize and he was forced to inhale, a wave of dizziness washing over him. Val's red glow was intimidating as he dissipated all the fire Charlie's clumsiness caused.

"Angel~ Can I see you in your dressing room for a moment?" Valentino was already walking towards Angel's room and Angel was hot on his heels, not even able to give Charlie a second glance.

Fear rippled through him as words spilled from his lips hoping to explain.

Of course, Valentino didn't want to hear his explanations. He just wanted another guarantee that Angel's body and soul were whole-heartedly his. It was a sickening gesture of something that should feel intimate.

Angel could hear his heart pounding in his ears as an electric buzzing flooded into his limbs making it hard to resist Valentino tossing him about, all he could think of was getting Charlie out of there.

"Look, V-Val, she just gets involved in everything. I-I'll tell her to leave! Just don't hurt her..."

Valentino acting violently in response wasn't out of the ordinary. Keep Charlie safe was running on repeat in his head. Angel knew how to get her out.

He grunted as he was tossed to the bed and his heart ached fiercely at her justified anger but Angel had to do what he could to keep her safe. He needed her to be safe

"You actually wanna help me? Get the fuck outta here right now...and let me finish my work."

Angel felt his aching heart crack as Charlie's eyes filled with tears. He stayed unempathetic to her. He couldn't risk faltering or it would put them both in danger.

When Charlie ran out the doors, sobbing, it took everything within Angel not to cry as well.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry Charlie

It wasn't until after arguing and making up with Husker that Angel remembered how he and Charlie left off. They had walked into the hotel talking and laughing after the whole fight outside the bar when he saw Charlie heading up the stairs

She had looked down and spotted him, eye contact freezing them both in place. Charlie was the one to break it first, looking away before giving them both a wave and turning back up the stairs.

Angel watched her go, chest suddenly full of an overwhelming ache.

"You gonna go talk to her?"

Angel blinked and saw Vaggie leaning against the bottom staircase column.

"Isn't checking on the princess your job as her girlfriend or some shit?" Angel tried to play it off, rubbing a hand across the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, it is," Vaggie agreed. "But, I feel like you both could use a friend right now instead."

Angel stared at the ground, his hand flexing as Vaggie and Husk seemed to watch him. It didn't make him want to cringe and hide though. It didn't make him feel scared like he does with Val. He felt safe.

"I wouldn't go that far," Angel coughed, stepping up the first few steps. "I have to check on Fat Nuggets anyway. Might as well see if Her Majesty is okay. Raincheck on those drinks?"

Husk winked and headed to his bar, whistling with a little hop to his step which made Angel smile fondly.

He quickly shook himself out of it, ignoring Vaggie's knowing gaze, and walked very pointedly up to his bedroom first. Angel did actually have to check on his little piggy and grabbed a good amount of lettuce and some apple slices as well before scooping up Nuggets and heading to Charlie's room.

It was empty because of course it was empty.

Angel groaned and scratched Nuggets under his chin, walking up the stairs till he reached a dead-end hallway. It did, however, have a pull-down ladder from the ceiling that led to a little platform on the roof of the hotel. The ladder was already down which gave Angel hope that he had found Charlie.

He climbed the ladder and peeked his head up outside. Sure enough, Charlie was on the roof, watching the Pentagram as the sky's magenta started to turn to a dark plum color.

Fat Nuggets squealed happily as he saw Charlie and wiggled out of Angel's arms to run up to Charlie and give her a nuzzle.

Charlie jumped in surprise before cooing at Nuggets, giving his little head scritches. She turned and gave Angel a small, gentle smile as he climbed up and sat beside her on the roof, also watching the transition into Hell's Night.

"I'm sorry I made things hard for you at work today," Charlie spoke softly, almost like she was telling him a secret. "Something didn't feel right when you answered the phone. You didn't look like you wanted to go. I just...I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Angel stared at Charlie half in awe at her big heart and half in fond exasperation.

"Charlie," He started, sighing. "My mess with Val? That's my mess, okay? It's not ideal but I'm working it out. It won't be like this forever."

Charlie sighed and leaned her head against Angel's shoulder. He froze in place, eyes wide and panicked as he looked down at her. Vaggie wasn't here so he didn't know what to do. He bit his lip before slowly reaching down and patting Charlie's head.

Angel didn't know how long they sat there, himself running his fingers through her blonde hair and Charlie leaning against Angel, her soft breathing and at-ease body language, as they fed Nuggets his dinner, showed him how much she truly trusted him.

He smiled down at her, feeling truly accepted by someone for the first time in a long time and now twice in one night. Angel knew he didn't want to disappoint her and felt that he truly had something to work towards getting out of his deal.

"Come on, Char," Angel soothed, his arms helping her sit up while two others picked up Fat Nuggets and tucked him against his side. "Time for bed."

Charlie whined at him, nuzzling into Angel's fluffy chest causing him to chuckle and scoop her up with his available arms.

Carefully, with his precious cargo, Angel made his way down the ladder. Vaggie was waiting at the bottom with a fond, knowing look in her eyes.

"She got you too," Vaggie teased him as Angel gently transferred Charlie into her partner's loving arms.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Angel scoffed, not able to stop the soft look on his face as Charlie snuggled into Vaggie, continuing to sleep. "How does she care so much?"

"I wish I knew," Vaggie chuckled, starting to head to their bedroom. "But she has plenty of love to give. You're her best friend, Angel. Never be afraid to reach out to us for help."

"Us?"

Vaggie paused at their door, turning her head to look at him. "I trust you with her, Angel. You are my friend too. If you need help, I am here."

Angel felt the stinging of his eyes and quickly looked away. It has been such a long time since he's had someone to rely on. Something that wasn't a substance but a person who genuinely wanted to see his improvement.

Angel walked into his own room, collapsing onto the bed with Fat Nuggets beside him, his body aching from all the work and abuse Val put him through. He curled up, facing his dresser where a picture of him and Cherri was tucked in the mirror. The other side had a picture from Sir Pen's first day that Angel secretly snatched.

What could he say? He loved his little family.

This time, they love him too.

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Escalate (3)

After some consideration Galeb decides to not follow the Beckoning. Hazel is quick to act and entrusts him with a new task for the Camarilla.

Spoilers for all of Vampire the Masquerade: Swansong.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,631

Link to Chapter 1 Chapter 2

on Ao3

Can't you feel Electricity It's dripping through my veins The syzygy It's twisting me endlessly, endlessly

Like you don't know what they said a couple of nights ago But you didn't hear that one

Galeb was ravenous. Although his skin colour had faded to grey the moment he had walked the secretary back inside the club, the whole act had pushed him to his limits.

As he looked at the woman seated next to him, it hit him suddenly. He felt it in his whole being. It was his Ventrue nature that was making him so tense around her, giving him these visceral reactions. He craved her blood; the purity, the class. And the fact that he could not have it only intensified his desire.

“The usual?” Emem asked with a cocky grin as she stepped closer to them.

“Yes. And a gin and tonic for her.” he answered.

As Emem was about to turn around, Galeb rose from his seat.

“I must excuse myself, Cyrene.” he said, “I will be back momentarily.”

Emem turned back towards Galeb, he overcame the distance between them.

“I need a real drink” he spoke through clenched teeth. Drained of vitae, the beast in him had become far too impatient.

“Did you not eat before coming here?”

“I did” he hissed, “I didn’t think it would take that much convincing.”

“Well I don’t have anything for you. Go and serve yourself.” Emem hissed back. “Be careful with what you pick though.”

Without another word he disappeared into the darker corners of the club. His mind was racing, consumed by the desire for only one thing. But it could not just be anyone and he had to be careful it was not a ghoul. So he lurked in the dark, watched the prey and fellow predators. His gaze wandered back and forth between people, then fell back onto Cyrene. Her blood was perfect, truly, but he could not risk it. A soft growl escaped him. His trained senses made him aware of a human not bound to anyone. A man in a business suit -- dark brown hair, swept back, an expensive silver brand watch around his wrist, the old money kind not the electronic touchscreen trash -- walked towards the restrooms. Galeb followed him at once.

A deep sigh of relief escaped him as he regained his composure and left the stall with the man behind. He centered himself as he adjusted the collar of his shirt in the washroom, making sure his clothes had not been soiled during this moment of weakness. A quick glance reassured him of the fact that the bathroom stall doors were closed and the Kindred walked off.

“I made a bit of a mess in the men’s washroom” he confessed discreetly once he had arrived back at the bar.

“Ugh” Emem rolled her eyes, “Seriously?”

“He’s alive.” he reassured her firmly, “Just some stains on the floor.”

“I’ll have someone get it.” she sighed and shook her head in disapproval.

Galeb noticed their drinks that had been served as he lowered himself onto the bar seat next to his new acquaintance.

“I’m so sorry I made you wait.” he spoke softly.

“Oh don’t worry about that at all.” Cyrene replied with a smile towards him, her demeanour friendly, less suspicious. Now it seemed like a perfectly normal thing that this man wanted to get to know her.

“I’ve been thinking” Galeb spoke, “We should spend more time with each other until you feel comfortable with me. And then you could introduce me to Mr. Hartwell.”

Cyrene set down her glass that she drank from.

“I would like that. I think that might work.” she answered. Galeb could feel that she was honest, even less careful than before. His dominance over her mind was still apparent.

“You think?” Galeb checked. “You’re not sure?”

“I don’t know. I will have to make sure he doesn’t feel suspicious about anything that you do.” she answered.

“Maybe it’s better you manage our assets. Inofficially at least.” the Kindred suggested.

“Oh I can’t do that” she laughed casually, “I’m not in that position.”

“You give yourself far too little credit, Cyrene.” Galeb spoke, his influence over her strong.

“Maybe.” she chuckled, “But I can’t be doing anything like that behind his back.”

“Do you have access to his clients’ files?”

“I do.” she responded, “In case of emergencies. Or an urgent meeting that he doesn’t agree to.”

“What about confidentiality? How much trust does he have in you?"

"A lot. I don’t want to betray him. I wouldn’t-- I can’t--” There was a certain agitation in her voice, like her own will that struggled against Galeb’s influence.

“It’s okay” he calmed her with a soft voice, his eyes flashing just for a second. “You’re safe. You are not betraying Hartwell. Everything is alright.”

She visibly calmed again, her breathing and heartbeat normalizing. The Kindred watched her fingers wrap around the glass and drink from it again. He leaned over, his body turned towards her.

“Where does he live?”

Slowly her gaze was drawn from her glass towards Galeb. A smile formed on his lips before she could even answer.

“Where do you live?”

With his head lowered Galeb returned to Hazel’s quarters.

“What is it? You don’t look like you have good news for me.” Hazel spoke, behind her was the moon shining in through the tall windows, the light being reflected on the sleek surface of her desk.

Galeb sighed, shaking his head before speaking.

“It’s not the best news. Hartwell has turned into a recluse. He doesn’t take any new clients it seems. And the secretary,  Roberts, she is very careful. I think I can gain her trust but it will take some time.”

“Unfortunate news” Hazel spoke and turned around towards the windows, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her gaze lowered. “Is that all?”

“My Prince, forgive me the suggestion, but would it not be easier to find someone else?”

“No. I want Hartwell” she insisted, “All others out there are not malleable enough. I’ve seen the prospects.”

“This will not be easy.” Galeb suggested.

“But once we have him, he is ours. We can use his paranoia against him.” Hazel explained, turning around again.

“What if we use just the secretary? She does most of his business for him these days anyway.”

“But in his name, right?”

Galeb tilted his head, watching her as she paused.

“So it will be him either way. If she has access to everything, I’m not against it.” Hazel explained, her hand outstretched in a presenting fashion, “But remember, she can’t be influenced if she is the one working with us. And Emem told me you already forced your will onto her.”

“Of course she did.” Galeb sighed and looked down for a moment.

“Her bodyguard was at her heels and she was extremely cautious. I could not let her go just like that.”

“Galeb, I’m not mad at you.” Hazel reassured gently, shaking her head. “I just want to make sure you know that going any further than that will be out of the question. Especially if you choose her as the one to work with us.”

“We will never get our hands on Hartwell.”

“You don’t know that” Hazel disagreed with her voice a tone higher, trying to persuade him. “Maybe we just have to be careful and watch Roberts and Walker for a while. Why don’t you become friends with them?”

Galeb coughed up a laugh.

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

“You’ve done it before.” Hazel reminded him. “Just go slow.”

The pressure of her gaze made the man look away.

“Have you set up another appointment with her?”

“I have. I was worried she would not let me meet her again if she wasn’t under the influence of my power.” Galeb confessed.

“Smart move. I am sure you will be able to make her trust you and then in no time, she will be introducing you to Hartwell, you will see. Or, she will the one handling our finances. Your choice.”

“Would you at least consider giving this task to somebody else? Anyone else, in fact. Emem Louis could do this easily with her connections to the--”

“No” Hazel responded firmly. “It has to be you. Emem doesn’t even come close to you in strength. You can protect these people if anything happens. Don’t you think they will be swarmed with ghouls and other agents soon enough? You can sense them. You’re the only one I can rely on for this task.”

Galeb sighed in defeat.

“I hadn’t considered that.”

“I know it’s hard for you. She’s probably all a Ventrue like you could want in a vessel.” Hazel chuckled. Galeb’s eyes widened.

“It’s not-- it’s not that. That’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh come on now. Don’t be shy about this. We’re birds of a feather, you and me.” she reaffirmed with a smile. “Go downstairs to the lounge and have a drink. Ask Sylvia for what I had them prepare for you. It will relax you. I know your type.”

Galeb stood in shock, at a loss for words but finally spoke, unable to decline.

“Thank you, my Prince.”

“And then focus. We need these people.”

“Of course, my Prince.”

The following night a black car with tinted windows was parked in front a high-rise apartment complex at 10:30 pm. The front doors of the building opened and Cyrene walked out into the night. Her steps brought her to the car, she overlooked the license plate quickly before she opened the back door from the side of the pedestrian walkway. She climbed in, greeting the man that was sitting inside with a smile.

[snootdroops]

I want to introduce y’all one of my verses, Visceral Masquerade

A “infection” started spreading worldwide and started affecting people’s flesh, morphing them and combining stuff around them into horrible creatures

companies tied up with the government started to take action on this but not mainly to save people but to make buck out of the creatures impressive regeneration of metal and blood, having workers by the name “butchers”, they’re given inhumane strength aswell the ability to manipulate their own flesh at will, some have their own gimmicks

[sammysfurshoppe]

Didn't have the time to clean it up but I just had a visceral need to draw my tiefling in her masquerade outfit during our Curse of Strahd campaign.

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 35

Words: 3.1k

Anyone reading this for the first time, I originally wrote Bondy into this chapter as the new character but I decided to change his name to Billy! 🤭

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

Helpless. That's how I felt as Charles accelerated through the snow-covered city streets. Utterly helpless and wildly out of control. Even when things had looked desperate before I’d had Van. He'd always been close, skulking in the shadows, keeping watch, a protective force. Unbeknownst to me he'd even been there when I’d considered him an enemy. Now I had no way of contacting him and for the first time I was completely out of his reach.

I should have been comforted with promises of a safe-house, a refuge where I could lay low until any potential threats were eliminated, but where could be deemed truly safe? When my trust had been shattered so completely could I ever wholeheartedly put my faith in anyone again? Images lingered in my mind. Paul weeping at my father's grave and pulling my distraught mother into a comforting embrace. Candid chats with him during my turbulent teenage years when my mother had 'washed her hands’ with me and he'd been called in as a kindly guiding father figure. An inspiring and encouraging force throughout my tough agency training programme. He'd been there all along... a traitor masquerading as a friend. The proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing.

"You'll be completely safe, no one knows about this safe-house," Charles stated like he was reading my thoughts. "You won't be left alone there either. There'll be protection assigned to you."

"Oh, so other people do know about it then," I interjected.

"I've hand-picked these agents myself. They're new recruits from the London team. They're completely trustworthy." He spoke in his usual brusque manner.

Agents?

The plural term filled me with consternation rather than the comfort Charles was trying to bestow. Multiple agents meant one thing to me and that was that he expected an attack. But if the location was so 'safe' why did I need such a high level of security? A dark sense of dread hung over me like a menacing storm cloud.

"And where is this safe-house Sir?" I asked, watching the bustling city streets turn to outlying residential streets, the snow falling thicker and faster than ever now.

"It's in the countryside, miles from anywhere. It's the last place anyone would think to look. It's completely isolated."

For some reason his last line chilled me through, a shiver radiating through me despite the car's heater belting out hot, dry air.

I could have been in London now by Van's side. The only place, as I was starting to realise, that I felt completely secure. It still seemed like insanity that a cold-blooded murderer who'd been assigned to kill me had turned devoted guardian who would risk his own life for mine, but in an insane world it was the only thing left that made sense.

Not that any of that mattered now. Instead of trusting him and repaying him for his protection and loyalty I’d chosen to pursue my own personal revenge, a selfish choice that might see Van now storm into the agency in a desperate attempt to rescue me. I felt every muscle in my body tense at the thought, a sharp visceral stab of terror in my gut as I envisioned him risking everything to get to me when I was miles away. The agency was sure to be on high alert and no matter how stealthy he was, no matter how skilled, there was no way he could get inside without risk to life or limb. And what's more, it was all my fault.

I swallowed down a choking sob which threatened to rise, disguising it as a cough, turning my head to look out the window at the scenery shooting past. We were leaving residential streets behind now, wide traffic-filled roads giving way to narrower B roads with hair-pin bends, the Porsche's slick tyres navigating the treacherous driving conditions surprisingly well.

We drove in silence for a while, me trying in vain to pinpoint some kind of landmark that might tell me where I was, Charles staring intently at the road ahead. When he finally spoke it made me jump, my nerves showing.

"Do you have your gun?"

I felt the cold steel of the metal digging into my back where it was still uncomfortably concealed in the waistband of my jeans. The notion crossed my mind to lie, but I knew I wouldn't be believed, and why should I lie in any case? The sense of disquietude that seemed to linger in the air intensified.

"Uh-huh," I replied after a pause, sitting forward to reach around and take out my handgun, laying it across my lap.

Charles's eyes darted sideways quickly, then he smacked his lips together before emitting a disgruntled sigh. I knew something bad was coming before any words even left his mouth.

"I'll need that... and your badge."

The shock made me gasp even though I was expecting disagreeable news. "Are you... firing me?"

Charles was silent for a moment so I carried on, caught between outrage and disbelief. My voice had risen a good few octaves when I spoke. "Sir... with respect I don't think that this is a good time to be..."

"With respect Lyla..." Charles' cutting tone quieted me instantly, a reminder that I was being addressed by a superior, and one that wasn't to be argued with at that. "You've blatantly lied to a senior agent which indirectly led to a colleague's death, you've tortured a suspect for information and you've just fled a major crime scene. I said I'd have your back and I will, but you're out of control right now. You need to step back from this case. This isn't a personal vendetta. This is an intricate network of criminals and we need to tread carefully. We're getting so close now... and I will not have you fucking things up... do you understand?"

"But you can't leave me unarmed!" I cried.

"Don't test me!" Charles warned, his grip tightening on the wheel, his jaw tensing. "When Paul's been taken into custody and McCann's lying on a slab in the morgue I'll reinstate you. You can stay here until things have settled down. Rest assured it won't take long. The whole agency's got their orders to track Van down and eliminate him, but until then you do as you're told and you stay put! And that's an order!"

The last line was barked out with enough force to make me wince. A show of authority to leave me in no doubt that his instruction was not up for discussion.

A torrent of emotions swelled up inside me. Hatred for Paul. Worry for my safety. A resigned feeling of impotence. But cutting through them all was a stark and desperate fear for Van.

"You've got to take me back!" I suddenly shouted, twisting around in my seat, looking all around at the rolling white hills of uninhabited countryside on every side, a thick copse of dark woodland in the distance which Charles gunned for, seemingly accelerating in unison with his rising temper.

Charles shot out a fist which connected with the shiny black dash, his knuckles white. "NO LYLA!" He growled, his lips curled into a snarl, his face an angry shade of scarlet. "I've told you! When are you going to start fucking listening for once!"

It was hopeless. I was miles from the city and getting further with every passing minute. The bleak snowy fields were being left behind now as tall leafless trees and thick firs flanked the narrow road, snow-laden branches reaching up for the flint-coloured sky. I could feel panic rising in my throat, clawing its way up, my mind scrambling for a solution to my desperate predicament and drawing a blank.

Suddenly the car slowed and Charles sat forward, hunched over the wheel, his eyes narrowing behind his gold frames. I looked around and saw a narrow lane leading off from the road, leading deeper into the thicket of trees.

"We're nearly there," Charles stated, glancing at me quickly before his attention was back on the winding trail he'd turned into, his rage starting to diffuse a little as he took in my anxious expression.

"You're not the only one who was betrayed," he said quietly. "Me, your father and Paul... we were as thick as thieves back in the day. We always had each other's backs... we looked out for each other. This has come as a terrible shock to me too you know."

I shifted in my seat, dredging up memories from my past. The picture my father had painted of Charles back then wasn't as a close friend and confidant. Many a time I’d heard him spewing out his frustrations to my mother after a particularly hard day at work, berating his boss's abilities as a senior agent in leading a case. His selfish attitude in using any foothold to further his own career even if it meant harming another's clouding his judgement time and time again. 'Ruthless' was how my dad had often described him.

I stewed over the knowledge, firmly biting my tongue. This wasn't the time to start a petty competition about who was more wounded by Paul's betrayal. Needling Charles would only make him push back even harder. I realised reluctantly that I needed to play along for now, take stock of my situation and plan my next move. Maybe I could appeal to the agents who'd been tasked with my security or maybe I could even give them the slip somehow and travel back to the city. A quick look around told me that it wouldn't be easy though, Charles' description of a remote location fully living up to its promise.

The lane got narrower and the terrain rougher, the Porsche's wheels losing traction on the ice, spinning uselessly. Charles muttered angrily, cursing the car's rear-wheel drive before he brought the car to a halt. "We'll have to walk from here, it's just up ahead. Just through those trees."

I waited until Charles opened the driver's door and got out, surreptitiously sneaking my gun into the waistband of my jeans yet again, then I grabbed my bag out of the footwell, pushed open the passenger door and stepped out. The first thing that struck me was how quiet it was. We were far enough away from the main road for any traffic noise not to penetrate the thicket of trees. Charles indicated for me to follow him and I did, my boots crunching against the virgin snow, leaving a trail as we both trudged towards our destination. I pulled my coat tightly around my body against the icy chill, looking all around for any other signs of life. That's when I noticed a large, hulking black SUV parked up ahead, and as we rounded a curve in the trail I saw a small cottage nestled amongst the trees.

It would have been an idyllic scene in any other situation, almost picture postcard perfect in the falling snow. A quaint thatched roof cottage with stone walls and smoke billowing out of the chimney, an inviting glow at one of the lead-paned windows.

"What is this place?" I asked as Charles started up the pathway towards the door.

"Don't worry about the details," he answered, extending a hand towards the wooden door and rapping against it firmly. "The less you know, the better."

I bristled at this comment but brushed it aside as the door swung open to reveal a stocky looking blond man with a thick wiry beard. He didn't greet Charles, just gave him a curt nod as he stood back to let us both enter, his beady eyes flicking over to me with not a hint of any warmth. I stepped forward, following Charles, immediately hit by the stifling warmth as we stepped down a short passageway which led into a deceptively large kitchen and living area.

The room had a low ceiling with thick wooden beams running the length. There was a battered looking patch-worked sofa pushed up to the far wall next to a fully loaded crackling log fire. I let my eyes move further around the room, taking in an old-fashioned stove at the opposite end next to a Belfast sink set into the wooden counter top. Everything looked old and well-worn in a style which would have almost been comforting in a thoroughly lived-in kind of way if I hadn't felt so ill at ease. Tension stiffened my muscles and wormed its way into my gut, intensifying as Charles stepped aside and I noticed another figure in the room.

The man sat reclined on a thickset wooden chair which teetered on its back legs as he pushed himself backwards, his large boot-clad feet up on the sturdy oak top of the kitchen table. He had a menacing air about him which was magnified by his stern features as he peered from under the brim of his dark cap. His eyes were piercing and they regarded me with a certain curiosity which set me even further on edge. I took all of him in, quickly noting the vicious looking serrated knife poorly concealed in the top of his boot, his casual pose and the smirk that simmered on his lips.

"Billy," Charles spoke gruffly, taking off his glasses and wiping the fogged-over lenses on the tail of his shirt which had come untucked.

"Alright... Sir..." came the reply, but the greeting just sounded misplaced, spoken in a teasing, insolent tone which immediately made my hackles rise. No one addressed Charles in that way, not if they valued their job, and especially not a new recruit.

To my surprise Charles ignored it, raising a hand to indicate me whilst I stood, tensed and rigid, on high alert but trying not to show it. "This is Lyla... I'm well aware as should you be that she's more than capable of protecting herself but she appears to have become a target..."

"Fucking McCann..." Billy muttered, his eyes flashing fiercely.

Charles just grunted an agreement, shifting where he stood and glancing at me before his attention was back on Billy. "Now you've been briefed thoroughly. You and Nick just do whatever needs to be done..."

The heat in the cottage was suffocating. I dropped my bag on the floor, feeling beads of perspiration breaking out under my heavy coat. I was loathe to remove it, hoping Charles might have forgotten about my concealed handgun but I wasn’t so lucky. As if on cue he turned to me, hand outstretched, his face stern.

"Like I said before... I'll need your gun."

"This is ridiculous!" I exclaimed, shooting a poisonous glare at Billy who seemed to be enjoying my predicament, his grin widening. "You've just admitted that I'm a target but you're leaving me without a gun?"

"We've discussed this already," Charles barked, anger seeping into his words, but I wasn’t going to let it lie. My sense of foreboding was in overdrive now, and I needed to do all I could to protect myself.

"Just whilst I'm here... please," I begged, aware that I sounded desperate but not being able to keep my composure. "When this is all over I'll hand it in. You can suspend me... you can fire me... I don't care. Just not today. Please Sir. I've got a really bad feeling about all of this."

Charles stood his ground, a flicker of something I couldn't place crossing his countenance before his steely expression was back. "We don't work on feelings in this agency, we work on facts. And the fact is that I just can't trust you right now. Now hand it over."

A throaty chuckle erupted from Billy as he tipped himself back even further on the chair, shaking his head, his amusement at my obvious anxiety clear. "Why don't you do as you're told huh? Be a good girl, eh?"

"I'm glad you find this fucking funny!" I hissed at him, anger mingling with my nerves now. He was lucky Charles was standing there or I would have wiped the smug grin right off his face.

"Don't worry sweetheart, you're in very capable hands," he smirked, plucking a cigarette from behind his ear and placing it between his lips.

Irritation flared in me, exacerbating my already wound up state. I darted forwards, nudging the back leg of the chair with the toe of my boot. The chair wobbled precariously for a moment and I was pleased to see him gasp out loud and grasp hold of the table-top to save himself from a fall, obviously shaken up, the cigarette falling to the floor.

"I'm nobody's sweetheart," I said steadily, pleased to see his smirk replaced with a scowl, but my satisfaction was short-lived when Billy shot up on to his feet in an instant, the wooden chair screeching harshly across the flagstone flooring.

I acted through instinct, my mind perceiving a threat as he lunged towards me, my hand automatically reaching under my coat to grip the butt of my gun. I withdrew it but didn't raise it, just letting my arm hang at my side, a warning. Billy didn't utter a word, but he didn't need to. He stood only a foot away, his jaw set, his eyes holding me in a glare which told me that he wasn't used to being challenged. But that was fine, neither was I, and certainly not by an arrogant prick like he seemed to be.

Seconds ticked by as we were locked in our stand-off, and I was shocked that Charles didn't seem concerned about diffusing the tension. I just heard a drawn out sigh emit from him as he stepped closer.

"When you two have quite finished I'll be taking that gun," he muttered, wrenching it clean from my grasp before I even had a chance to react.

"I'm heading back to the city," Charles announced, and I finally stepped back from Billy, tearing myself away from his piercing stare. I turned to look at Charles who was backing quickly away in the direction of the short hallway.

"I'll be waiting for your call," he said to Billy, then he fixed me with a look, one that caused my intuition to set the hairs prickling on the back of my neck. I knew straight away that something wasn't right. In fact something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Goodbye Lyla."

Then Charles was gone.

[ukkipeach]

I am going viscerally insane I need twst to drop masquerade already.

[hjohn3]

Long Hot Summer

The Rise of the Far Right on Britain’s Streets

Source: Sky News

By Honest John

SUDDENLY, BRITAIN’s fascist moment seems to be a little bit closer. As the summer’s temperatures rise, so does the heat on the street, and the far right are now on a wholly nihilistic march. It has been clear for some years that the fascist right in this country has long abandoned its historical attachment to anti-semitism and visceral biological racism and has turned its focus on Islam - portraying the religion, but more importantly, Muslims themselves, as fundamentally opposed to British values and with an intent to “take over” the country culturally and in population terms. This anti-Muslim stance is allied to a hostility to illegal migration (the “small boats” of Rishi Sunak’s half hearted culture war) and a peculiar advocacy for authoritarian law and order despite the far right “protests” being reliably intimidatory and destructive in towns and cities all over the U.K. since the appalling murders of three children in Southport last week.

There have been a series of “incidents” over the last month that have provoked the spin offs of the disbanded English Defence League, which are myriad and hard to pin down but nonetheless organised, to take to the streets in overtly anti-Muslim, anti-immigrant and racist riots masquerading as protests. The first was a punch-up at Manchester Airport, recorded on CCTV and phone video footage, when two thuggish Asian lads assaulted police officers called to break up a fight, but which culminated in one of said lads being tasered and then kicked in the head while helpless on the floor by an armed officer clearly out of control. This led almost immediately to a liberal leftist/Muslim activist rent-a-crowd protest against alleged racist policing and the Asian boys being represented by dubious lawyer Akhmed Yakoob (who has form as a pro-Gaza candidate at the General Election, and also outed as a base misogynist). What should have been no more than an “incident” requiring investigation, soon took on the contours of a culture war as hyper liberal activists in possession of half the facts turned the fight into a “Muslim” issue and the reliably loathsome Reform MP Lee Anderson opined that he would like to give the police officer who kicked the prone suspect in the head, a medal for his assault. The temperature began to rise, despite the nuanced nature of the affair (significantly Yakoob has since dropped the case).

This incident had been preceded a few days before by a riot in the Hatfield area of Leeds instigated by the Roma Romanian population in response to some Roma children being taken into care by police and Leeds Social Services for Safeguarding reasons. The riot was large scale, dramatic and involved burned out vehicles, damaged buildings and assaults on the police who at one stage vacated the Hatfield streets altogether. This situation got the right wing media outlets (GB News, Talk TV, the Telegraph and the Mail) into a lather along with malign YouTubers like conspiracy theorist and Muslim-hater Charlie Veitch, who arrived in Hatfield to proclaim the site of a burned-out bus was a result of an “Islamist insurgency”. There are legitimate concerns about how the Roma community behaved in Leeds, but whatever the Hatfield riot was, it was neither Islamist nor an insurgency: it was a reaction to what was perceived as a kidnapping of children by the British state, by a group that is over 95% Christian. The riot had literally nothing to do with Muslims or Islamism. But such facts do not get in the way of the false reporting by the right wing media or the “patriotic” Tik-Tokkers and YouTubers that now proliferate.

And so the scene was set for the explosion of far right rage that followed the terrible murders of three young girls attending a Taylor Swift dance class in Southport by a 17 year old young man of Rwandan descent, born in Cardiff and a Southport resident. In the time it took for these crucial details about the identity of the murderer to be revealed, the far right had developed an entirely invented narrative of its own: the murderer was an immigrant, worse than that he was an illegal who arrived in a “small boat”; the murderer was a Muslim called Ali Al-Shakati and an Islamist terrorist to boot. The lines between all three incidents were connected to present a situation of migrants and Muslims, aided by their leftist allies, fighting murderously and violently against British values and British citizens. The fact that none of this was true (the alleged murderer, Axel Muganwa Rudakubana, is likely also to have a Christian background) was irrelevant to the EDL successor groups. In no time Southport, Westminster, Hartlepool, Leeds, Nottingham, Sunderland and many other towns and cities became scenes of riot, intimidation, destruction and the violent targeting of mosques. The would-be Ernst Rohm figure of Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, absurdly known to his fans as “Tommy Robinson”, swaggered through the streets of London, mouthing anti-Islam banalities, until his arrest under the Terrorism Act, but clearly not in charge of anything very much, and even less so since his flight from the U.K. to avoid his court appearance. The far right cells who are organising the disorder are organic in nature, their actual leaders unknown. Their ideology is unclear, but they are given cover by the cynics of GB News (with particular reference to the atrocious Mike Graham and Isabel Oakeshot) who openly describe the criminal activity as somehow a legitimate expression of patriotic opinion by an English population pushed too far. The groups are however also given legitimacy by the ultimate provocateur, Nigel Farage MP, sitting like a Prussian aristocrat in 1930s Germany speculating on whether the government or the police are being entirely honest about the Southport murders, while the modern equivalents of the Brownshirts run riot in British towns. This is the real danger of the swirling toxicity of the current unrest. The middle-aged flag-waving male thugs are easily dismissed as criminals, conspiracy-believing oddballs and yobboes, but their enablers in the right wing media, Reform and the Tory right, provide a level of encouragement, justification and even ideological ballast to what currently remains a street movement but, under more serious leadership than that of Yaxley-Lennon, could morph into something far more sinister.

So what is to be done?

Keir Starmer for the second time in a month, struck precisely the right tone and spoke for the decent majority of this country when he described the rioting as driven by “far right hatred” and announced an intention to protect Muslim citizens from harm and to pool police, security and anti-terrorism resources to combat the extremists on the street, but also to break up its cellular structure. This hard action must be taken. The issue of a Section 34 Dispersal Notice in Greater Manchester which blunted far right action this weekend, is a start. History tells us that the far right do not go away and a level of force is what works to disrupt them - but administered by the police and judiciary, not by left wing groups and their “smash the fascists” placards, who usually prove themselves incapable, in reality, of “smashing” anything very much.

Probably more importantly, is the need for the government and Ofcom to pay far more attention to the toxic falsehoods sprayed indiscriminately by the likes of GB News and Talk TV, and to insist misinformation posing as news is banned and political opinion is confined to explicit opinion slots. Influence over the Wild West of social media is more difficult but the faux-legitimacy of the right wing TV outlets is dangerous while our streets burn, so their lying output must be controlled. Parliament must also exercise control over maverick MPs. In the aftermath of Southport, Farage chose not to attend the House of Commons and represent his constituents but instead decided to post a video slot encouraging conspiracy theorists and rioters. It is high time that the indulgence of Farage’s hail-fellow-well-met persona ends and if an MP can be seen to be implicitly endorsing criminal activity, he or she should be hauled before the Privileges Committee, or even prosecuted.

My final recommendation is hard to make. I believe we have reached the limits of identity politics and multi-culturalism. We talk casually of the “Muslim community” in this country when in reality, there is no such thing. The self-identification of population groups who once described themselves as Asian or South Asian as “Muslim”, prioritising religious identity above all others, together with the “Arabisation” of Islamic observant clothing and Qu’ranic interpretation thanks to the influence of Saudi-funded preachers and madrassas, makes the Bengali, Pakistani, Afghan and Indian heritage population visibly different and just the sort of potential scapegoat for societal woes that fascism thrives on. Together with assertive Muslim activism, this level of identity politics gives credence to the othering narrative of the far right. As a democrat, this is difficult to write. Why shouldn’t people be able to wear what they want, worship as they wish, believe what they believe? But in an increasingly divided society, I believe the priority for identity groups should be to accentuate the common social concerns they share with all other communities and to seek far more enthusiastically to integrate with the majority population while maintaining their beliefs. Such a shift after at least twenty years of embedded identitarianism will be difficult and it may never happen, but I maintain that social solidarity is a crucial factor in the long term defeat of fascism and racism.

It may be that these riots will fizzle out as the weather cools, but the current moment feels it might be leading somewhere very dark. An organised street fighting movement, aided by a toxic right wing TV media and encouraged by a far right Parliamentary presence carries too many historical echoes for comfort. All eyes are now on Starmer and Yvette Cooper to control the symptoms of street disorder, but by far the greatest priority is for the Labour government to create a fair economic settlement for all British communities and thus consign the paranoid and violent fantasies of the far right into the dustbin of history, once and for all.

3rd August 2024

[mistsdancer]

The Wild Woman upholds both stars’ sparks in her eyes and the penetrative, deadly glare of someone who has been forced to see the abyss to find her way through. She dismantles malicious endeavors and sneaky acts by the might of her voice and the undeniable magnitude of her presence, employing her intuition as compass to defend those victims of unfairness and disregard and salvage the innocence of what tries to imprison her insightful heart. 

She does not let fall into oblivion the sanctity that lives inside of everyone, as she breathes and walks in a state of humble faith and divine inspiration, choosing to live as a reminder of kindness and hope in order to enkindle ancient memories of sacred communities and god abiding connections in the soul of mankind. 

Her sensuality is born from utter loyalty to her visceral emotions as each experience enlivens and deepens the intimacy she cultivates between herself and god, and endows her with courageous, dauntless temperament to serve Love’s purpose.

She is the embodied child masquerading as assassin, the waters of intentional tenderness and submission which promptly evoke the fire of destruction to destitute power of its abusive, non-consented, pernicious and immoral uses. She is death carrying the fear inducing scythe, she is the womb rebirthing you as immortal.