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all-my-friends-were-glorious · 3 years ago

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FANKID MUSES - ACTIVE REG!VERSE FANKID MUSE LIST

These are the Regular Verse Fankids currently in South Park. Aside from Gil, Fauna, and Mason all of the kids have come back in time some way or another. For the Inactive List please Go Here!

Almarin “Marina” Rogers - Demisexual Demiromantic Cis Female - Daughter Of Michael and Firkle - Twins With Celina - 14 - FC: Ruth

Originally, Marina and Celina did not exist, and a different set of children replaced them. When Asher and Aster refused Cthulhu’s plan, despite him letting Firkle be incredibly sick and even dying in childbirth, he made a deal with Firkle. A second set of twins, almost the same as the first, and he will be able to have the two vessels interchangeably. However, he cannot take full ownership of either body. In this set of twins, Marina is the Guardian, and Celina is the Vessel. Marina has a very intense obsession with her sister, and will go out of her way to make everything easier on her. Much like Asher, she is much stronger than she looks, and has extensive knowledge of knives and other weaponry. If she shoots you, take it as an insult.

Arthur Cowens - Homosexual Homoromantic Unsure Cis Male - Alex and Gregory’s Eldest Son, Quads with Maddox, Ramona, and Tana - 15 - FC: Stephen James

Arthur is the eldest of four children born to Alex and Gregory. Much like his siblings, he is a model and Influencer, as well as an aspiring Boxer. While he isn’t particularly into the assassin/spy lifestyle Tana took to, he’s even less enthused by Mads and Mona’s love of wanton destruction. He desires normality, as much as he can get, though he’s aware that’s out of the question. A fluke with some of the powers he got from his father sent him, Brandy, Ramona, and Ember back in time, and he can’t for the life of him figure out how to get them home. He is very studious and loves to read, and spends a lot of time in the cemetery with his lover, Dennis.

Aster Rogers - Demisexual/Romantic Monogamous Cis Male - Michael and Firkle’s Son - Twin to Asher - 15 - FC: Aidan Gallagher

Aster is the younger twin son to Firkle and Michael. He is insanely close with his twin Asher, and actually likes his family. Due to some wayward magic, he and Asher traveled back in time to just before their conception. It was likely his fault but he maintains that he wasn’t the only one messing with things. He tends to cause more problems for both of them than he probably should, but he’s always happy to have his brother on his side. When he is Of Age, he will be the vessel to Cthulhu, to store some of his mind and such to help him escape.

Asthulhu - Demisexual/Romantic Monogamous Cis Male - Cthulhu Possessing Aster’s Body - Ageless - FC: Aidan Gallagher

Aster was born specifically to become Cthulhu’s human vessel, though eventually he is given a sister to help carry the burden. When the twins found out that Cthulhu was to replace Aster instead of sharing his body, Aster took them back in time to try and reason with their mother, who had no idea that that was the plan. Aster invoked Cthulhu to bring Greer back in time to help Ric, and after the rather strong taste of getting to be free, Cthulhu began to take over more often. He was enjoying experiencing humanity, but each possession with Aster being so young is deteriorating his brain and body in equal measure.

Beringer “Ringer” Thelman - Androsexual Cis Male - Son of Pete and Reagan - 15 - FC: Johnny Goth

Due to the premature death of his mother, Ringer was not originally part of this universe. When Asher warned Pete about Reagan being dead in the future, and he did something about it, he saved both her and his eldest son. Born with FASD, Ringer was always a fairly sickly child. Early on, Vegreth helped to bind a demon to him, so that the blindness and near deafness he had as a baby didn’t hinder him so much. The demon in question was of similar age to Ringer, and they are actually very good friends. Sometimes they trade almost at random. If the demon is in control, it’s impossible to take a clear picture of him.

Brander Davens - Unsure Cis Male - One of Ly’s Litter; Fin’s Bloodline - 15 - FC: Jack Huston

Prone to staring and silently judging people, Brander is better at handling animals than he is other people. He talks around a select few, but almost entirely speaks to his mother, Lycidas, in feral tongues. Ly has taught him several dialects, though mostly wolf and bat ones. Incorporating bits of both, he sometimes just sounds like he’s shrieking at his mother, when that’s not the case. He’s very close with his family, and shows his affection through physical touch, gifts, and wanting to do things that they enjoy together. He very much enjoys being read to.

Brandy Marsh - Homosexual Cis Female - Stan and Pete’s Oldest Child - Older Sister To Hennessey - 14 - FC: Alexis G Zall

Brandy is the middle of Pete’s kids, and the eldest of his and Stan’s children. She’s very outspoken and quick to question bullshit in her life, and the lives of those she cares about. As far as she’s concerned, Greer is her older brother regardless of his parentage, and he’s kind of a pussy, so he needs her to help defend him. Hennessy is also in her protection, as she is as spirited as her mother once was. She’s fairly small, but she has a nasty right hook and can throw a shoe with precision no matter the distance. She is very sensitive to spirits and sneaks booze from her parents sometimes to deal with it. Brandy is possessed by a shade/demon named Ar’Toroth.

Dalvoreth - Homosexual Cis Male - Nalkyra and Vegreth’s Son - Bound To Ringer’s Body - 15 - FC: Johnny Goth

Being the son of two demons, Dal was birthed and almost immediately bound to Ringer to help with his symptoms of FASD. He is very playful and silly like his mother, but can be serious at the drop of a hat. While he loves to mess around with Ringer, he will take complete control when necessary. When he does this, black creeps up their arms. When he’s taken over, there is not a decent way to grab a picture of him, and their eyes will glow in the dark due to his tapetum lucidum.

Eldritch “Ritchie” Broflovski - Bisexual Cis Male - Middle Eldest of Ike and Firkle’s Quadruplets - 13 - FC: Ihor Liubchenko

Ritchie has a habit of silently sizing people up for dinner. Between himself and his sister, the two of them will seduce people into being alone with them and eat them. They inherited the Canadian genes, able to split their mouths and devour human flesh without a problem. Firkle always offers them a place at the table, but encourages them to hunt, too, if they so choose to. Ritchie is often glued to video games, and when he does get something that can tear his mind away from them, he has a habit of clinging to it like he’ll never see the light of day again without it.

Ember Broflovski - Pansexual Transfemale - Daughter of Kyle and Eric - Quads With Enya, TBN, and TBN - 15 - FC: Ida Maria

Ember loves her uncle Scott to the moon and back, and has been close to him since she was little. She has a habit of bouncing between friend groups, as she doesn’t always feel welcome anywhere, but Brandy, Ramona, and Arthur are always willing to have her around. Due to a weird fluke with his powers, Arthur brought himself, Brandy, Ember, and Mona back in time. Ember has no idea that Letha hates her, because she assumes everyone thinks she’s a gift from Satan himself. Her mother is very overprotective of her and favors her, and she is very close with her uncle Scott.

Fauna McCormick - Not Sure Cis Female - Kevin and Christie’s Youngest Daughter - Younger Sister To Gil - 6 - FC: G. Hannelius

Fauna is the youngest (and only) daughter of Kevin and Christie McCormick. She is very charismatic, loves to talk, and learn. Her brother and father are very important to her, and she loves her aunts, Karen and Kenny, a lot. She always refers to Kenny with female pronouns because it bothers her mother so much. She is connected to Cthulhu much like Kenny, though her purpose is not yet obvious. She feels more of a motherly connection to Firkle than to Christie, and treats him as such. Michael is one of her favorite ‘uncles’.

Gil McCormick - Not Sure Cis Male - Kevin and Christie’s Oldest Son - Older Brother To Fauna - 10 - FC: Asa Butterfield

Gil is the oldest of Kevin and Christie’s kids, and has suffered for it. His mother is convinced she was “Rosemary’s Baby’d” into having Satan’s child, and has tried to kill him on multiple occasions. Despite this, he has a good relationship with his father’s side of the family. His Gifts include being able to change his appearance at will, breathing underwater, and understanding Cthulhu’s language without a middleman. He has very lucid “dreams”. Firkle is the closest he has to a parent that understands him, and he loves his dad for trying, but he feels as though he’s closer to Cthulhu and Firkle than anyone.

Gray Thelman - Homosexual Transmale - Son of Michael and Pete - Twin To Greer - 15 - FC: Nicholas D’Agosto

Gray Thelman was originally stopped far before he was given a chance to start. Pete, in his anger with Michael, had made sure they would only have one child, but the arrival of Aster and Asher altered the timeline. As other children kept coming back, things began to veer off of their original course, leading Pete back into Michael’s arms, and keeping things more favorable towards him. As such, Pete didn’t bother to put a damper on how many he might have, allowing for Gray to be born with Greer. Gray plays up being small, weak, and frail around other people, even if he’s actually fairly strong. He wears baggy clothes and tries to seem meek in public, but is absolutely stronger and more conniving than his twin. He has gotten into assassin work as well as arms dealing, and will not hesitate to hurt or kill someone if he thinks he has a quick out. He enjoys helping his father with his pain sharing rituals, and doesn’t mind hefting and carrying bodies for him to avoid aggravating his back more than necessary. Gray means “Son of the Bailiff.”

Greer Thelman - Bisexual Transmale - Son of Michael and Pete - Twin To Gray - 15 - FC: Kyle Gallner

Greer is the only son of Michael and Pete, and something of a baby of necessity. In order for Michael to help Pete give Stan children, Michael requested his firstborn. Pete will not elaborate if he did something to affect how many he would have, and Vegreth will not confirm nor deny anything. Before the timeline began to grow muddier, Greer had been the only son of Pete and Michael. However, with how broken the timeline became, the circumstances of Greer’s birth changed, as did the number of babies born. Greer is a very sweet boy that fidgets a lot when he’s nervous. He is very close with his half-brother, Alaric, and half-sister, Aggie. Much like Ric, he will hide behind her when he’s being bullied, though he will also hide behind Gray and Brandy. As much as he loves his father, he is also absolutely terrified of his house, as he can see spirits when they are strong. He inherited some of Pete’s psychic abilities. Greer means “Guardian.”

Letha “Etha” Tenorman - Demisexual Cis Female - Daughter of Scott and AJ - 13 - FC: Fyyas

Etha was raised by Scott, AJ, and at times AJ’s other lovers, though she always felt closest to her father. As he was a helicopter parent, she learned early on that Every Single Thing Was Dangerous. She is quick to believe conspiracy theories and has been considered both gullible and fanatical about these kinds of things. She likes her mother’s piranhas, though she is uncomfortable being alone with them. Other kids kind of scare her, but she wants to make friends so she isn’t so lonely. She is incredibly jealous of and hateful towards Ember, as her cousin seems to get more attention from him than she does. Due to her mother’s vampirism and her father’s lack of it, she is only half-vampire, but has been training with Dzianis to learn how to use her abilities. A mishap with some of her father’s machinery sent her back in time before she her older half-sister was even conceived, which does not help her mental state in the slightest. Temporary Bio Here!

Lyndon Goodman-Rogers - Unsure Cis Male - Eldest Son of Michael and Larry - Older Twin Brother To Allie -13 - FC: Luke Baines

Lyndon has a habit of getting caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. On more than one occasion, he’s had to slink home to his father in order to avoid going to Juvie, but he’s always somewhat ashamed to admit that he didn’t actually do anything. He’s interested in film and photography, and has an obsession with The Midnight Meat Train. As such, he tends to wander at night, taking photographs of things people don’t want to admit to knowing about. He is only half vampire.

Maserati Broflovski - Pansexual Cis Female - Younger Daughter of Kyle B. and Infiniti - Identical Twin to Sibyl - 15 - FC: Whitney Hoy

The younger of the twins, Maserati received the other half of the demon to help cultivate her own powers. She, much like her mother, enjoys the idea of popularity and infamy, so she has gone down the route of doing whatever she wants. However, sometimes her and her sister do try to swap places. They have to glamour their eyes when they do it in order to not get caught. Infiniti can always tell the difference.

Mason Warner - Not Sure Cis Male - Son of Tammy and Michael - 12 - FC: Noah Jupe

Mason was born to Tammy from an “unknown father.” Because he’s a bastard, his grandpa was always really hard on him, and so he rarely saw him, if at all. His mother and grandmother are very loving towards him, and he has a rather optimistic nihilist outlook on life. He’s a good kid, and his mother pretty much lets him get away with anything. While Tammy never divulged that Michael was Mason’s father openly, she did tell him and Mason likes talking to his dad on the phone when they can. Now that they live in South Park, he can see him more, and he’s excited for that.

Ophelia “Lili” Davens - (Painfully) Bisexual Bigender Person - One of Ly’s Litter; Fin’s Bloodline - 15 - FC: Sophie Hirschfelder

As much as they are quiet, they are also very loud with their presence alone. Much like their mother, they enjoy another form, but deciding on one is difficult. Their Great-Grandfather, Dzianis, has taught them to become many things, instead of one, and it makes them much happier to split into pieces. They refer to themself as ‘we’ in place of ‘I’, and prefer to remain as gender neutral as possible. They believe that the wolf half of their brain and the vampire half never merged properly and are two separate entities. Their favorite shape to take is a swarm of rats.

Ramona “Mona” Cowens - Demisexual/Romantic Cis Female - Daughter of Alex and Gregory, Quads with Arthur, Maddox, and Tana - 15 - FC: Lindsey Haun

Mona is almost never seen without Maddox unless he has otherwise shooed her off. She dislikes being away from him, because she fears he will get hurt without her there to protect him. The Netherborn abilities she got from her father have twisted her ideas of right and wrong. She’s very partial to axes and has one that she calls Star that is never far from reach. She can summon it much like the scythe Alex can, though she has found out how to make it tangible outside of using her powers. She is very violent and always ready to fight, but will drop everything for Mads, should he need her. Due to a fluke with his powers, Arthur brought Mona, Brandy, Ember, and himself back in time, and Mona is suffering greatly without Maddox.

Royce Olson-Rogers - Homosexual Transmale - Only Son of Michael and Mercedes - 15 - FC: Christopher Mintz-Plasse

Royce, called Rolly by his mother, is a rather bratty little thing. His over-indulgent grandparents (Mercedes’ parents) abducted him from time to time to take on grand vacations around the world. He is a major brat, and can never take the heat for his actions. He will hide behind anyone who could possibly defend him and has a surprisingly close friendship with Valentino. His relationship with his father is borderline obsessive. He isn’t aware of it, yet, but he is the mother of Harley.

Valentino Johnson - Queer Genderflux Male - Middle Youngest Son of Ravencrowe and AJ - 15 - FC: Jagurox

Valentino is very conceited and proud of his heritage. This pride soaks into everything that he does, and he has become something of a perfectionist. He takes hours getting ready in the evening and has been given his own vanity in his bedroom so he doesn’t hog the bathroom. He still hogs the bathroom from time to time. He is rarely seen without his familiar, a false coral snake named Perdita.

Wilton “Wilt” Pocket-Ross - Pansexual Panromantic Cis Male - Only Son of Pocket and Nathan - 15 - FC: Austin Butler

A product of the shifting, broken timeline, Wilt didn’t originally exist, as his parents never made him. He showed up one day in the proper timeline, and people recognized him except they didn’t know him. Picked up by Pocket’s employers when his tendencies got to them, he was eventually charged with going back in time and killing Tana. He’s very emotionally manipulative and uses his albeit “miraculously survivable” Patau’s Syndrome as a cover for anything he may do that is considered ‘bad’. If that doesn’t work, he’s got four or five other sob stories lined up just in case. While he doesn’t particularly care about Ritchie, seeing as his target is Tana, he figures it’s up to him if he dies. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t expect resistance, however. His goal is to begin with befriending Tana and Ritchie to see what he can figure out. Much like his father, he is an absolute sweetheart unless he’s not. While he can stomach regular food, he does require raw meat, at the very least, from time to time to fight off the worst of his condition. While he doesn’t know the details, he knows his mother went to Michael with the news of his deadly condition and something was done about it.

#Fankid Muse List - Reg!Verse #Muse List #Active Fankid Muse List

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solarpoweredflashlight · 8 years ago

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Pathways - Katarina/Riven Werewolf & Vampire AU (NSFW)

“You’re a monster, you know.”

“No less of a monster than you are,” the shadow growls, her silhouette hungry against the washed out moonlight coming through the bars of the small window.

“Predictable,” Katarina snorts, unimpressed. She leans against the frame, the heavy metal door slung wide. An invitation. A challenge. A dare.

“Your kind kills with deliberation, with planning, with a sociopathic lack of morality.” The prisoner shifts slightly, her shackles complaining with dull metallic jangling. She doesn’t take the bait of the open door. The smart ones never do, Katarina thinks, and feels herself become moderately more interested in this new plaything.

“And your mindless destruction is better, I suppose, because you feel like you’re blameless?”

“No,” the chained beast says softly, turning away from Katarina. “Never blameless.”

Boring, Katarina thinks. A werewolf who thinks she’s some kind of suffering saint.

“So,” Kat says, as she opens the door, “Are you ready to behave yourself?” Riven looks up, eyes sunken in, her golden glazed irises proof of the sharp edge upon which her human form teeters, precarious. They’ve been that way since about day five of the standard starvation routine. Incredible self control. Most can’t even hold human form by day five.

Riven says nothing. Katarina assumes it’s because her mouth is likely full of wolf teeth, or that trying to talk would push her over. They stare each other down for a few heartbeats – Riven’s heartbeats, since Kat doesn’t exactly have any of her own to measure the passage of time with. Surprisingly slow, calm heartbeats.

“Come here,” Kat says, voice dripping condescension. Werewolves are so predictable. She’ll break, one way or another – bow to the superior strength, or fly into a rage and try to attack.

Riven turns her head away and resumes gazing out the window, like an old dog called for a walk who isn’t in the mood and so feigns deafness. Katarina’s lip curls in annoyance. Werewolves are supposed to be predictable. This one is not.

“Come, dog,” she tries again, throwing a little more effort (and a little more glamor) into the words. She hears the beast’s heart rate pick up, and her own body sings in predatory response. It sickens her how much she’d like a taste of this one.

“I think I rate a member of your clan with a few more centuries to their name,” Riven says at last, sounding perfectly composed. It’s astonishing, infuriating. Werewolves have insane metabolisms. They haven’t fed her in twelve days. She shouldn’t be able to speak, let alone sling insults.

Emotions war within Katarina. She leaves, slams the door shut. As she storms away, Riven’s steady heart beats chase her down the dungeon halls.

It takes another ten days of starving her before she becomes what they want her – a hulking, shaggy white monster.

“Pretty colouring,” Katarina muses, and Riven throws herself against her shackles. Despite knowing how strong the chains are, Kat takes an unconscious step back, and immediately rebukes herself for it, glad nobody was around to see it. The pale beast is eerily silent, her stare intense and unblinking, and that unnerves Kat more than a roaring, snarling show of anger. Kat spins the heavy metal collar in her hands, effortlessly toying with the thick steel device that would undoubtedly snap a human in half if dropped on them from a short height.

“Hungry?” she taunts, and braces herself for the next lunge. Lost in her animal side, Riven is finally predictable, and lunge she does. This time Katarina doesn’t flinch. “You are a monster. And if you want to live, you’re going to learn that you’re my monster.” Riven has no response for this but a flashing of her teeth. Katarina flashes her own right back – a reaction that has made bigger werewolves cower at her feet, in decades gone by, but doesn’t seem to impress Riven.

Katarina holds up the collar. “You want to get fed, you do as you’re told.” Riven watches, golden eyes murky with unknowable intent and unmistakable intensity. “Sit, beast.” There is a taut pause, and then slowly, slowly, the monstrous creature lowers itself to its haunches. It doesn’t appear to be a relaxing of her guard so much as the coiling of a spring.

She knows, already, what’s going to happen. Katarina takes one step forward, then, two, as if she thinks she’s going to be putting the choke collar on Riven without a fight. Then, when Riven launches, Kat’s hand whips out and slaps her reaching maw aside with such force that it rips her jaw asunder.

Silence broken, Riven screams in pain.

“Make sure you set that properly before it starts to heal,” Katarina remarks, dryly, before she turns away and leaves the cell. It’s obvious now that there’s still too much intelligence, too much consciousness, lurking inside that beast.

Day twenty three of no food, Riven doesn’t move when Katarina opens the door, doesn’t respond when she speaks, doesn’t tense when she approaches. Kat would worry the beast is dead if she couldn’t hear the everpresent sound of her beating heart.

Riven’s golden eye slits open, watching. Kat feels confident her reflexes are fast enough to react the moment she sees any muscle moment that suggests an attack is coming, even at such close range, and so without any fear she seizes the werewolf by the snout and presses at where bone broke in her jaw a few days ago.

A low growl starts in Riven’s throat, but Kat pays it no mind as she manhandles her face.

“Slow to heal, not like the overnight miracle after we captured you. Not much left in you, is there? At least you set it properly like you were told to.” Kat is pleased to see the involuntary bristle of hairs that stand up along Riven’s neck at her words. Let the werewolf wonder whether she set her own jaw because it was logical and necessary, or because she succumbed to a glamored order from a vampire.

“If you’d behave,” Kat muses wickedly, stroking her thumb along the awkward ridge of half-healed bone through dense white fur, “then I’d feed you. And if you were thinking you’d do the noble thing and let yourself starve before you’d give in to my kind, well. I think you’re discovering at a certain point the beast takes over and does whatever it has to, to survive.” Riven growls again, showing Katarina her teeth up close and personal. The longest of the canines is probably the length of Kat’s hand, from the tip of her middle finger to the heel of her thumb, but she isn’t intimidated. Size isn’t everything, and besides that, Riven is small for a werewolf. Small but compact, Katarina thinks, enjoying the feeling of the subdued creature’s massive head in her hands. There’s no shortage of muscle on this one.

She strokes her fingers though the dense ruff of fur that coats Riven’s neck, enjoying the way her growling ramps up and her body tenses and she finally, finally, starts to give off the smells of fear. Katarina closes her eyes and inhales deeply. The way it makes her feel conjures long-ago memories of being lured into the kitchens by the smell of freshly baked bread. Her mouth fills not with saliva, but with numbing venom.

No. This isn’t how she wants to taste her, scrawny and starved and helpless. Might as well be drinking from a corpse. She’ll wait.

“Relax,” Katarina whispers, a smirk crawling across her face. “Most vintages taste better after they’ve been aged properly.” She stands and walks away from where the werewolf lies draped across the cobblestones, inert. After regarding Riven for a while, Katarina picks the massive collar up from beside the door. “Come here.”

Riven turns her eyes up at her, and takes a deep breath that seems to make her inflate to half her size again. Her long tongue darts out and licks her wet, black nose – nervous. Tense. Her ears tilt forward. Intent. Hungry. Focused on a goal. Finally she rises, up on all fours like a lumbering grizzly, perfectly capable of coming to a fully raised position but choosing not to.

She walks towards Katarina, to the end of her chain, and sits.

Riven earns her meals by fighting in the Pit for the entertainment of the younger, easily bored members of Katarina’s clan. This sort of wanton bloodshed does little to amuse those in the thousands of years old pedigree, but to Katarina and her two and three century old siblings, it is the height of entertainment to raise prized monsters and pit them against one another.

Katarina’s White Wolf is quite popular, because she’s small and fights like a beast three times her size. The blood shows bright and vibrant against her fur, like crimson silk on snow, and it adds to the spectacle.

Kat finds herself growing impatient for the day she “retires” her White Wolf and finally cracks that seal and drains her dry. And oh, she knows there will be no sampling delicately of this one. The way Riven looks at her, fury blazing hot in her ever-golden eyes, makes her sure it will be a violent and ecstatic feeding when it finally happens.

The taste is unlikely to be very good – dogblood is infamously gamey and even undrinkable, in some cases – but the experience, oh, she anticipates it more and more every time she watches Riven tear apart another challenger. When the battle is over and Riven turns, without fail, to find Kat in the crowd and stare wordlessly, her snout stained in blood and gore and her expression frozen in hateful neutrality – it’s all Kat can do not to descend on her then and there with everybody watching.

“I need more than just raw meat,” Riven says one day, as Katarina brings the spoils of her battle – a metal dog bowl filled with offal.

“Is that right,” Katarina laughs, pushing the bowl across the floor with her foot, enjoying the way Riven cringes at the loud noise it makes. “Do you prefer a red wine with your dead cow bits, or a white?”

“Some vegetables would be nice. Some starches. You could even, you know, cook the meat.”

“My White Wolf thinks she’s still a human. How cute.” Riven doesn’t have the sort of ears that she can flatten at that comment, but the rest of her body language communicates her disgust somehow without it.

The other vampires ridicule her for it, but Katarina starts feeding her plaything steamed vegetables and cooked meat. She boasts loudly about how she expects diet is the main reason werewolf blood tastes so terrible, and repeats it so often that she starts to believe it. Privately, Katarina expects the day she finally feeds from the White Wolf will be a crescendo of agonizingly singular ecstasy. She worries she’ll never be able to experience anything quite like it ever again, but decides that will be a problem she can solve later in the many centuries she has left to enjoy the pleasures the world has to offer.

Katarina is a fool to think she has her beast tamed, and she knows this on some level. That’s why the idea of the ultimate subjugation, feeding from her, is so exciting.

Still, it comes as a surprise when Riven finally strikes. Kat has known for a while that the werewolf is unusually talented at regulating her own body – her metabolism, her breathing, her heart rate – but doesn’t realize this means she can hide her intent to attack until it’s too late.

Katarina opens the door holding the food bowl full of dinner, and maybe it’s the thick, meaningless smell of the food that delays her realization that Riven is right there waiting for her. She’s in wolf shape of her own volition for the first time Kat’s ever seen, and simply bowls Katarina right over, cracking her head hard against the metal doorframe. Tonight’s menu scatters wildly across the floor, and in a flash Riven is gone.

With a startled, angry snarl, Katarina struggles to her feet.

“Come here,” she shouts down the hallway, putting every ounce of magical force she can into the command, but she’s already too far away for it to make much difference. Dammit. She’s been feeding her too well. Dammit fuck dammit fucking fuck.

Katarina storms after her, following the sweaty scent of her adrenaline. She won’t get far.

She follows Riven’s trail down to the back entrances of the Pit, where the doors are only made of wood. She finds one ripped off its hinges, and her anger boils, along with a spark of arousal. Mayhem and power speaks clearly and cleanly to what turns Kat on, and always has. She has to push aside the thoughts of what she’ll do to Riven when she catches her and actually focus on catching her.

Out into the Pit, the ease with which Riven has clearly climbed up and past its massive stone walls makes Katarina wonder if any of the security measures they have in place are actually effective. She thinks, as she follows the path of scent Riven’s sweaty palms have left on the stone, of all those times the werewolf has looked up at her after a battle – thinks of how easily she could have vaulted up into the crowd and made an attempt to rip her apart.

Not that she’d last long in a crowd of vampires. It would just be the night of her capture all over again.

It then strikes Katarina that she’s left it unusually late tonight to feed her wolf. It’s nearly daybreak.

“Fuck,” she swears aloud, picking up the pace. If Riven actually escapes and evades capture long enough for the sun to rise, she may vanish forever. The others would never let Katarina hear the end of it, not until Riven was hunted down and destroyed.

“I’m going to fucking kill you when I catch you,” Kat hisses, following Riven’s scent through winding corridors. They’re getting closer to surface level. This is bad.

Kat catches her in a storage room. Riven’s made a mistake, turned down the wrong hallway. She knows her way around the dungeons and the Pit, but this is new ground. Cornered, Riven turns and snarls, ready to fight. She settles into a position Kat’s seen her in a dozen times before – tense and loose, protected and prepared. She has killed, starting from this position. For once of a few rare times in her long life, Katarina feels fear.

She steels herself. She’s in close range now. Her voice should work.

“Down. Now.” At the command, a shudder runs through Riven’s body, but she doesn’t obey. Damn her. Damn her to a thousand hells.

Riven attacks, but this time Katarina is ready. They rip and tear at one another, blow to blow.

Again and again they clash, brutal and furious, months of tension and frustration and hatred poured into each strike.

Riven’s blood speckles the floor of the storeroom, but Katarina pauses to catch herself and realizes she’s taken a number of nasty wounds herself. She’s going to need to feed.

Her eyes fix on Riven. Katarina still stands between her and the only door out, ragged, angry, thirsty.

“Come,” Katarina says, a hoarse whisper, and tastes the power in the command in a way she never has before. On the wings of her desperate, visceral need for Riven, she taps in to a font of control that is new and strange and heady.

On trembling legs, Riven steps towards her. The lamblike movement sets Katarina’s insides to an excited flurry. Finally, finally, Riven is hers, truly hers. Not just grudgingly obeying out of her own rationale, or out of the desire to live. Obeying because at last Katarina’s words have taken hold properly.

“Mine,” Katarina whispers, enraptured by the glorious vulnerability of this new mastery. Fangs sheathed, heart thumping harder than Kat’s ever heard it, Riven comes to sit at her feet. It’s a surprise, but a pleasant one, when the great beast presses the flat of her monstrous head against Katarina’s shin. The heat of her is unbelievable, unbearable. Katarina runs her fingers lavishly through the thick fur of a massive temple. Her whole body seems to throb with each one of Riven’s heartbeats. She wants her. She needs her.

“Change back,” Katarina says, and wonders at how little it sounds like herself. More – no, she doesn’t like to think it. She shouldn’t be thinking at all, shouldn’t be questioning how she’s finally discovered how to control her White Wolf after months of trying. At her feet, Riven is shrinking, muzzle pulling back into a human shape, tail receding, vanishing.

Katarina is on top of her before she’s even fully human, pressing their bodies together, sucking in deep gulps of the smell of her, grasping her hair tight and pressing her into the floor.

“Please,” Katarina finds herself saying, the word spilling urgently from her mouth. Riven bucks up against her, grinding hips to hips.

“Yes,” Riven croaks, raw and insistent. She grabs at Katarina’s head, rough thumbs stroking pale cheeks, and surges upwards to kiss her. Kat can taste her own blood – dull, empty of nutrition – on Riven’s tongue, evidence of the fury of their just-fought battle. It’s nothing like Katarina expected it to go, certainly, but –

Riven bites Katarina’s lip, and the jolt cements her awareness firmly in the present. It’s too much, so much, and she withdraws her hands from Riven’s hair to push her jaw up and to the side, exposing her neck. Katarina longs to take her rough and ragged, to waste no more time, but is gripped inexplicably by the desire to do as little damage as possible, and so gently, tortuously slowly she tastes her way up and down Riven’s veins until she finds the perfect spot.

Riven is breathing hard, her palms pressed flat against the cold floor and her desire filling Katarina’s sense of smell.

“Does it hurt?” Riven murmurs, voice thick and gravelly on the heels of her transformation back to human form.

“No,” Katarina promises against the skin of Riven’s neck, and revels in the eager arching of the woman below her. Surely this can’t all be the power of her suggestion. None of her prey have ever seemed so conscious, so controlled.

Katarina presses her lips to her chosen spot and luxuriates in each throbbing pulse of blood that she can feel against her mouth. She allows herself one, two, and then Riven is whimpering her impatience, promising exquisitely sexual violence with the bite of her human nails against Katarina’s lower back. Vampire venom is a wonderful thing, to give its victim such physical bliss and take away what surely should be agonizing.

She bites, and as her fangs penetrate the flesh of Riven’s neck a jolt of pleasure seizes her like a gasp of fresh air after too long underwater. Tangled in a sweaty, exuberant mess of half-clothed limbs, she drinks from Riven and shudders as she feels the strangeness of the magic form and stretch and tighten between them. For a moment it feels like she is both Riven and Katarina, quaking helplessly in the ecstasy of surrender, of the giving of lifeforce, of the incomparable pleasure of being fed upon, and simultaneously feeling herself filled up with power, drinking deep of a nectar unmatched by any food or drink, revelling in the glory of complete ownership of so divine a creature.

Katarina feeds until she needs no more, and then – one of many surprises of the night – forces herself to stop. Too good, this is too good to use up all in one go. She pulls away from Riven and feels that intangible bond solidify further. Somewhere in the back of her mind, warning bells go off. No, no, she’ll deal with that later. Enjoy the moment. Don’t waste it on worrying about what she’s just done.

“God,” Riven groans against her. Katarina laughs breathlessly. (Since when has she needed breath?)

“God’s got nothing to do with either you or me, beast.”

“Use my name,” Riven says, eyes closed, chin still thrown back. How is she so composed already? “I know you know it.”

“And why should I?” Katarina purrs, feeling confident in her newfound ability to control this wayward werewolf.

“Because I’m about to fuck you,” Riven murmurs hoarsely, flipping Katarina over onto her back and claiming the top, “and I’d like to hear you use my name at least once while I’m doing it.”

Katarina had thought they were done for the night, but suddenly her innards twist with a related but different sort of hunger. Riven looks down at her, eyes a rich brown, and somehow it excites Katarina more to know that she’s the object of attention for the rational, thoughtful, strategic woman they captured all those months ago.

“Go on then,” Katarina smirks up at her, enjoying the sight of Riven’s still open neck wounds. “Impress me.” Riven is already kissing and biting her way down Katarina’s torso, her hands rough and covetous. Katarina’s skin seems to spark with heat at touch, reliving the full-body pleasure of the feeding inch by inch. When that hot mouth finds its mark, it’s like being alive again. Her mind goes blank and her body races with rare pleasure. It’s been centuries since she’s had sex right after a feeding, and she’d managed to forget how good it feels. Nearly as enjoyable as the main event.

“Riven,” she murmurs, “Oh, fuck, Riven.”

As she comes hard with a werewolf’s head between her thighs on the floor of a storage room, the tie between them weaves its magic tighter and tighter. If she had stopped herself at the first strand, at the opening that allowed her to command with ultimate obedience, it all might have been fine.

But pathways can be travelled one direction as well as they can the opposite.

And Katarina has made the rookie mistake of forgetting to close the gate behind her.

#Katariven #fanfic #fanfiction #mild smut #dubcon

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fapangel · 8 years ago

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I thought Trump was on good terms with Russia, and I don't even mean that as a dig. Like, you mentioned this before, that he wasn't chomping at the bit to go to war with Russia or something. So why provoke somebody that Russia is obligated to speak up for?

Because 1. they’ve been provoking us constantly since the conflict in Syria began, 2. if we bitch out again Putin will just keep pushing for more, 3. Russia’s not going to war with us, because we’d stomp their slav assholes square, and 4. we cannot fucking tolerate the wanton use of WMDs.

1. It’s been extensively documented that Russia’s not bombing ISIS at all, mainly because America (backing the KPG Kurds) are already doing that for them, and ISIS is also fighting the moderate (non-fundamentalist, non-insane) rebels - and Russia’s only goal is to save Assad. If their habit of bombing every single fucking hospital they can find - including the hospital that was treating the victims of that last gas attack - didn’t clue you in, all Russia cares about is saving Assad, and perhaps increasing the flow of refugees to Europe to continue fostering tensions, division and divide. The moderate rebels they’re bombing are people we’re training - and helping, on the ground, with special forces, military advisers and other sundry troops. This has been the latest Cold War proxy war from the outset, and anyone who thinks otherwise is willfully blind.

It goes deeper than this, however- the Russians have made a show of flaunting even the appearance of co-operation or mutual respect as NATO, Russian and Syrian aircraft all operate in the same crowded airspace. They haven’t just bombed “moderate forces,” they’ve done so after deliberately ignoring repeated radio calls on the established “deconfliction” channels, as a “fuck you” to show exactly what they think of us. This is in addition to repeated aggressive harassment from their aircraft directed at ours. (This is entirely aside from their harassment and brinkmanship elsewhere in the world, like buzzing our ships in the Black Sea.) So if Putin gets miffed because we gave his asshole buddy Assad a slap on the wrist, too fucking bad - not responding would enbolden Putin and Assad even more, and result in far, far more death and far more refugees - which are contributing to a widening political crisis that’s directly shaking many of NATO’s member nations, and thus playing into Putin’s hands.

2. Putin way of murdering people and waging war has been called “hybrid war,” but it’s not really that different from the way things were done in the Cold War - the CIA certainly used direct action more than a few times, after all. Putin just applies it on a larger scale; his “subterfuge” is paper-thin and obvious bullshit, but provides just enough cover for cowards and fair-weather allies to bitch out of joining NATO in any substantial response. The Middle East has been a bone of contention between Russia and America for many, many decades - it’s why we put up with those crazy theocratic fuckbag Saudis in the firs tplace; they’re not wanton-murder-crazy and we needed the bases to wage the Cold War. And the Gulf War. And Operation El Dorado Canyon, Operation Praying Mantis, and the other hojillion hot-spot responses the region’s seen.

This is just the latest move in a very, very long game, and for the last eight years we’ve had a hand-wringing mealy-mouthed “diplomat” letting Putin swing his cock around the Middle East, expanding his power and influence in the region that includes most of the world’s oil reserves and two of it’s most vital economic chokepoints (Suez Canal and the Hormuz Strait.) The recent “security conference” between Russia, Syria and Turkey - which the US wasn’t invited to - was just the latest example of how the US was being sidelined, marginalized and diminished. Obama’s eventual response to the chemical attack was to agree to a “deal” overseen by Putin to “remove Assad’s chemical weapons,” which, again, put Putin and Russia in the position of ultimate arbitrater, power-broker and deal-maker. This isn’t just muh opinion, either: many people have observed that Putin was running rings around Obama in diplomatic and strategic maneuvering. Even CNN said so. A change was clearly needed.

3. See my post below about the Admiral Gigglefuck vs. Arleigh Burkes for an example. And hey, that’s just one example. I could delve into the vast military power disparity between America and Russia, but suffice to say they have one broken-down pile of shit “carrier” that launched a handful of strikes off the shore of Syria and lost several planes to bad pilots and mechanical failures before being towed away like the tiny pile of shit it is, and we have eleven nuclear-powered fleet carriers. The Russian military is so weak that their shills have resorted to deep-throating RT propaganda about their bombsight computers making “unguided bombs just as good as Precision Guided Munitions” to explain why it takes an entire plane’s payload to maybe kind of hit one target sorta, when an American plane can loiter overhead dropping bombs one at a time, killing ISIS with every button press. Most of their navy is rusting Soviet relics and their air force isn’t much better. There’s no way in hell that a full-scale - or even a limited - conventional conflict is going to work out well for them, and we both goddamn know it. This idea that we have to tip-toe around because Russians might bitch and whine and throw a tantrum is pretty fucking hilarious. What are they gonna do? Fuck with us? We’d bury them deeper than the Romanovs. Stick that in your shoe and bang it, motherfuckers.

4. This is the most important point: we absolutely cannot tolerate the wanton use of WMD by a hostile, dictatorial regime against their own people. THIS AFFECTS US. WMD exists, and is sought after, because it completely changes the dynamics of power. Just as it did in 1945, it enables a single aircraft to annihilate an entire city. No matter how small, how weak, or how outmatched a nation is, they can suddenly guarantee their own existential survival if they have these horrible weapons at their command. They’re David’s Slingstone. However, that same power and ease of use means that the only real defense against them is Mutual Assured Destruction - the threat of retaliation in kind. This two-edged sword regulates them only to preserving existential survival - a weapon that guarantees your death if you do use it, but guarantees your enemy’s death if he tries to kill you, by conventional means or otherwise.

And that’s it. That is the only goddamned thing keeping the wanton, widespread use of Weapons of Mass Destruction in check - the great and abiding fear on all sides that they stand a hell of a lot more to lose if they use it than they do to gain. This is why poison gas was never used by the Germans in WWII, nor the Allies, for instance. In Desert Storm, we even warned Saddam that using his chemical WMD against our troops would be met with tac-nukes in return. Because, again, that was our only real option for keeping his own in check - the threat of retaliation. That aura of taboo, that fear of letting the genie out of the bottle, is all we have to keep the holocaust at bay - and that’s a damn thin line indeed.

So when some murderous bastards start using it, routinely, on their own people - because their people cannot respond in kind and enforce MAD - then someone has to do it for them. If you say it’s “not our fight, who cares,” then you open the door to a path you do not want to walk. Next it’s North Korea eyeballing the South and saying, well, it’s not America’s fight - it’s not even their fucking country, is it? And South Korean/American relations are pretty shitty right now that we’ve found out their leadership was run by a fucking religious whackjob cult for the last decade, and the new guy is a limp-wristed dove.

WMD does, indeed, affect us. It’s too powerful not to. I’ve covered the impact of the immigration crisis on NATO, but have you considered what a nuclear detonation on the Suez canal would do? Egypt’s not our fight, but it’d sure as hell affect our interests. Or imagine if Iran decides to get into it (again) with the new Iraq, and decides they want to be the ones lobbing the chemical warheads instead of the ones suffering them this time. Will America take exception? Nah, it’s not their fight.

The genie has to stay in the fucking bottle. Anyone trying to let it out has to be stopped. End of fucking story.

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coin-news-blog · 5 years ago

Text

The Jim Bell System Revisited

New Post has been published on https://coinmakers.tech/news/the-jim-bell-system-revisited

The Jim Bell System Revisited

Let me re-emphasize that I have neither the knowledge nor the will to implement this system. I certainly don’t like the State, but I would rather concentrate my energies on constructive rather than destructive solutions. That said, I still think governments everywhere are going to be staring down the barrel of an encrypted gun in the near future, and this article attempts to explain why, in response to numerous objections received since my last article.

I also want to point out some areas where I think Jim Bell is completely off base. First of all, his insistence that AP is somehow residing in a loophole of the American legal system that only he is aware of, is absurd, as rightly pointed out by many of his critics. I have no delusions that AP would somehow survive its “day in court” or that even if, due to some arcane technicality, AP is a legal enterprise that that would stop the State from pursuing it relentlessly. Furthermore, I am mystified by Bell’s fascination with confrontation and martyrdom (as exemplified by his personal life) and do not think AP will be started by the self-sacrificing, or that it’s even necessarily a good idea to have that mindset when designing the system. Bell also overestimates the enthusiasm that ordinary people will have for AP by a long shot. I still have reasons to believe there will sufficient customers, but they are not going to be primarily heartland regular Joes, who Bell envisions watching AP’s deadly progress with amusement. Bell also gives some slightly cockeyed responses to a number of objections to his invention. In fact really the main thing I take away from his writing is the system itself, not necessarily any of his justifications.

My friend and business partner, Bob Murphy presented some powerhouse arguments against my pet theory in our recent columnist debate over the infamous Assassination Politics concept. I contend that under closer examination, his insightful questions can be answered satisfactorily.

Additionally, Adam Young has presented a thoroughly researched historical analysis against AP, which I will address first.

Young has three main points. First, that assassination has been ineffectual in the past for destroying states. Second, assassinations will instead create a backlash against anarchism by government and citizens alike. Third, he does not like the moral implications of the very likely possibility of collateral damage from sloppy AP prize-hunters, given the relatively poor caliber of historical attempts.

The opinion piece ‘The Jim Bell System Revisited’ written by

The first point, despite all its exhaustive research, is I’m afraid to say, totally erroneous because the mechanism by which AP kills its victims is fundamentally different then assassination campaigns of the past. I am not at all surprised to read that a handful of suicidal ideologues gunning down a few unlucky aristocrats failed to exorcise the nation state. Assume for the moment that AP’s basic functions materialize (I will get to Murphy’s objections later). The pool of assassins has instantaneously expanded from only insane political extremists, to every single violent opportunist in the world who can access a computer. AP represents a veritable full scale war against the State, fought by the scum of society and funded by every partisan malcontent across the political spectrum. A dozen assassinations per century is certainly not going to give any politicians second thoughts about their career choice, any more than the dozen or so plane hijackings in the past 50 years makes me nervous seeing a turban in business class. However, logically speaking there must be some tipping point at which the body count is the most pressing statistic a politician has in mind. AP will surpass this tipping point, where history’s basket case revolutionaries were doomed to fail. The State will, of course, respond in nasty ways, but inevitably these will prove ineffective in the face of an impenetrable network supporting a sustained and widespread offensive.

Secondly, Young fears that AP will re-enforce the stereotype of anarchists as the 19th-century mad bomber and 20th century Starbucks arsonist. This will then erase any chance of our winning hearts and minds via soul-stirring online essays, and worst of all, get the lot of us gulagged.

What he fails to realize is the absolute lack of a reason for there to be any connection between anarchists and AP. If AP were actually launched, I for one would certainly not be publicly cheering it on (I probably wouldnít even risk staying in the country, having written this article). The people who will be donating will not be doing so for anarchist reasons, they will not assume they are furthering anarchism, they will not make the connection. The targets also, will not probably be prioritized as an anarchist would. Ancaps are too small a group for our bets (if any) to be a major impact, thus if occasional bettors are caught, they are statistically unlikely to be one of us. The assassins will also not be Ancaps, unless any of you have a mercenary streak youíre not revealing. If all goes well the admins will either not exist or remain anonymous, and thus their political angle is irrelevant.

With no anarchists predominantly involved in any of the core functions of AP, or visibly supporting it, I don’t see why Young thinks that the State will blame anarchists for the rise of AP. In fact, if my predictions are correct, the assassins will primarily be the existing criminal class. If the State picks any scapegoats, it will be black militancy, or drug users, or the militia movement, etc, i.e. the people who are actually attacking them. The Government did not condemn anarchists for WTC, they blamed Islamic fundamentalists. Ancaps aren’t being rounded up in detention camps, Arabs are. Despite the fact that anarchists have often said things in the aftermath that amount to “they had it coming to them.” Which is more or less what Iím saying here. Anarchists will have just as much to do with AP as they did with WTC. The people who are going to suffer the brunt of the State’s reaction are the actual instigators of violence, and if I read my audience correctly, that will not be any of you. Do you particularly care (aside from general aversion to Statist crusades) if the State launches a crusade against crack heads and professional killers?

If the non-betting population experiences revulsion from AP at work, its outrage will be directed at a disparate collection of political interests and unrelated thugs. The State will undoubtedly ramp up its enforcement regime in response to AP, however, there is no reason that anarchists would be singled out, when there are more direct threats available.

If the State does pick Anarcho-Capitalists as the source of all evil, instead of some other arbitrary group like, say the Republic of Ganjastan, then I advise us all to leave or prepare to be martyrs. At some point, things are going to get uncomfortable for non-statists whether it’s Ashcroft Inc’s regularly scheduled programming, or an AP frenzy whipped totalitarian drive. I plan to be an ex-pat at that time in either case. We can always come back in the aftermath, and start the equivalent of Awdal Roads Company in the former US of A.

The third is the issue of collateral damage, which can be creatively ameliorated within the AP protocol. Its conceivable AP players might get in the habit of waiting for a number of high priced targets to get in the same building, and then truck bombing the whole structure to claim multiple big prizes, without concern for the dozens of non-targets cut down along the way. The moral failure here, I believe, lies solely with the assassin. However, my opinion is irrelevant, because if the bettors themselves feel they are responsible and they have a conscience, they will not bet for fear that the target they put money on will take a hundred un-targeted coworkers down with him. Thus AP needs to alleviate the moral obstacles bettors will face in order to have the maximum revenue flow possible. The answer is to allow for pools to be started with any number of stipulations. For example, the prize for politician Z might include the following rule:

“If any bystanders are killed in the death of the target, 90% of the prize money will be donated to a fund for their next of kin. The remaining 10% will be distributed evenly to correct guessers via the normal method.”

Or some such wording that would serve to greatly motivate the assassin to be careful in planning his attack.

By this scheme, there could be multiple prize pools for the same target, each with different disclaimers. For example, in addition to the 90% victim payout pool for Mr. Z, there might be a no questions asked pool for the same guy. Presumably, the fewer rules there are attached to the prize, the more likely an assassin will be to take a chance at winning it. Thus bettors have to balance their moral qualms about collateral damage versus their desire to see results. If they care more about bystanders, they should bet into the rules heavy pool, if they care more about eliminating the target, bet into the open ended pool.

Unless there is overwhelmingly more money in the “kill by any means” pool, the mere existence of the “kill carefully” pool, should convince the assassin to be as discrete as possible so as to win both prizes. So even if AP bettors are on the whole more bloodthirsty than socially conscious, the few with some scruples will be able to have a large impact on how AP players go about their operations. In fact if AP players really did tend toward wanton destruction in order to hit their marks, it might be in the best interest of people, who either exist in close proximity to a top target, or have a general compassion for bystanders, to bet into the constrained pool, even if they have no desire to see the target dead, but for no other reason than to be sure that when he does die, the assassin will hopefully be motivated by the money in the conditional pool and avoid civilian casualties.

Young denounces AP on the grounds that it uses a tactic of the State, i.e. “terror”, against the State itself, and this is a reprehensible flaw. Saying that AP is terror because it kills tyrants, is like saying shooting a mugger is terror. Well, yes. If you were unfortunate enough to live in a neighborhood inhabited by gangs, and got a reputation for shooting harassers without hesitation, this would effectively “terrorize” the gangsters into leaving you in peace, or so goes the “armed society is a polite society” school of thought.

However, AP does not even qualify as terror in the political sense.

The precise political science definition of terrorism is “a group that uses force against an intermediate target in order to bring about a desired decision from an ultimate target”. In other words, a terrorist is ill-equipped to directly attack the hated government, so instead he blows up a school bus, and issues a public ultimatum that unless the government meets some of his petty demands he will strike again. The logic being that the government is incapable of protecting every school bus all the time, and the terrorist has nothing else to do but plan his next bombing, so he can essentially strike at will. He hopes that eventually the State will tire of this harassment and acquiesce, usually because the population becomes exasperated at the governmentís ineffectual attempts to stop the attacks, and it is in danger of losing its power, not due to any compassion for the school kids.

AP does not follow this model, primarily because, unlike the terrorist, it can indeed strike the ultimate targets directly and does not need to play deadly games with intermediate symbols. If anything, AP should be described as guerrilla warfare.

Even if the effects of AP end up being terrorist in the popular sense, this is wholly different from say Al Quaeda plotting together in some dusty bunker. AP is a decentralized system unlike anything ever before. Without a central decision making body like a terrorist cell, the targets selected by the AP patronizing public will reflect its user’s ideologies. AP will only use explicitly terrorist tactics, if its users overwhelmingly have terrorist inclinations themselves, which given the superior abilities provided by AP, is an unproductive course of action and a waste of money.

I hope that is a decent response to Young’s excellent article. On to Mr. Murphy’s piece.

First Murphy doubts the feasibility of AP with the very legitimate concern that if the system were truly an impenetrable secret to all investigators, there is nothing stopping the AP operators from pocketing all the donations, yet claiming winners had been paid, resting on the impossibility of discovery, and the robbed winner’s desire to remain anonymous (since he’s probably got blood on his hands). A better scam might involve creating artificially high bounties, and then only paying out what’s actually in the pot. Since if there are multiple bets on the same day, the prize is split evenly between them, the assassin will not know if he has been cheated or if there are actually were enough other random guessers to dilute his prize down to the share he actually gets. The administrators could also skim off a healthy chunk too, and no one would be the wiser. This would probably be the best way to for the admins to dishonestly game the system, so that they enrich themselves; the assassins are disappointed but not given proof of treachery; and the bounties are higher than normal, thus enticing more gullible thugs.

So is this really a problem? Seems to me the system still works exactly as planned whether the admins are honest or not. The only problem is getting people to trust the system in the first place, which I’ll cover in a minute.

If we assume that the admins’ purpose in creating AP is to make as fat a profit as possible, then they will not want to blatantly rip off hitmen, for fear that word will inevitably get out among the criminal population that AP isnít on the level. However, even in an extreme case where the admins do embezzle every penny, it doesnít matter. Since very few people involved with AP will be actually killing anyone, only a tiny minority of users will feel they have been cheated, while the greater number will be convinced they got their money’s worth. Thus they will continue to use the system. Future assassins not in communication with their gypped colleagues will also be led to believe others have been paid. Thus everything still works, money goes in, prizes are accumulated, and targets are eliminated.

If the admins really are capable of hiding all evidence and expertly conning the system, then the system will indeed be conned, and so well conned, that it will continue to run despite being conned over and over. The only problem is if this possibility prevents people from ever starting to bet and becoming convinced they are being dealt with fairly.

There are two answers to this: the AP business can slowly build trust with less extreme versions of itself, and also the overlooked fact that people have a surprisingly high tolerance for potentially fraudulent online services.

To establish itself as an authentic operation, AP might be introduced not as a full fledged death machine but instead as a low key betting pool system whereby users could put money on sporting events or guess the day certain celebrities will get divorced, and other trivial wagers. The selling point is the hardcore anonymity feature for users in harsher nanny states. In this relatively low risk phase, winners could have the option of being publicly announced for ego’s sake, and this would prove the system operated as intended. Then gradually more and more sinister bets would be allowed until it becomes completely un-moderated and AP is born.

Such a system would not be nipped in the bud, as Murphy predicts, as there are countless underground betting organizations currently in operation, and proto-AP would arguably be even more secure from law enforcement, by benefit of its exclusive existence on the internet with solid encryption and no face to face contact among users. Even at the intermediate semi-morbid phases its possible proto-AP would not garner significant government attention. Look at this http://www.stiffs.com.

Clearly harmless, but the fact it has garnered no legal complaints is a good indicator that real-AP would be able to go on the offensive for some time before the Feds figured out where the threat is coming from.

I also still think the best idea is to design an autonomous system with no publicly identified administrators even in the proto phase, whether this will become feasible with future developments in cryptography remains to be seen.

Even if AP did not go to the trouble of gradually building a customer base, it does not necessarily mean it will fail. Examine the case of online gambling. Here we have people putting their money on games where the “house” can completely manipulate the odds in its own favor simply by changing a few lines of code, and the user will never know unless he takes detailed notes on winning percentages. They do not even have a reputation at stake like a traditional Las Vegas casino, which could do the same with its electronic slot machines. If a Vegas outfit says its slots payout 99% or something, people who have no good reason to trust that, still play by the thousands. Many people are unaware that the Nevada Gaming Commission even exists, and virtually none have any idea how good a job they do at enforcing gambling regulations. And inexplicably they play online versions of these same dubious games too, where they have far less control, and nowhere near the trust of a “reputable” brick and mortar casino. Online gambling rakes in millions, despite obvious security holes and opportunities for abuse. An indicator that even if AP is not foolproof as far as protecting bettor’s money from the admins, people will still donate and predict. Maybe they’re just stupid, and maybe the online casinos are actually honest.

Murphy also points out that if politicians resort to holding Congress inside a NORAD bunker, then any information about deaths inside the mountain can be easily manipulated by the government, thus disrupting the rewarding of correct guessers. I doubt this will be an effective countermeasure against AP. If the outside world never knows that the Feds are lying about death dates, then potential assassins would not be aware their successful hits might be in vain. They would then still have the motivation to mount their attacks, and only afterward realize the government’s press corps has cheated them out of their prize. However, the people donating money have still gotten what they want: a dead politician, and thus will continue donating. Since the assassin will presumably either be dead, captured or in hiding, he will not be able to warn anyone that the government is using information warfare against AP. Thus the system continues as planned.

On the other hand, if it becomes common knowledge that the government is not a reliable source of information, then it will be up to the assassin to make the real death date known. Perhaps acquiring a tissue sample from the victim and anonymously forwarding to independent media, or videotaping the kill shot with some kind of provable date stamp. This means the assassin has to take extra risk in getting close enough to the body to grab some proof, or accidentally providing incriminating evidence on tape, and also risk further exposure in contacting the media. If the AP server is run autonomously, it will have to be programmed to take into account the relative trustworthiness of misinforming government sources versus potentially nutcase indy media, and then make a decision as to the actual date of death. If the information is too ambiguous, then it might extend prize percentages to predictions on neighboring days, based on the probability of being correct. In light of this possibility, the assassin would be smart to take out high interest loans and dump his entire net worth into bets on days all around the planned kill date.

This opinion article

In light of this development, the assassin will have to take more risks and thus insist on a higher prize before taking his chances. Thus this government strategy will only serve to increase the equilibrium price of assassinations, just like their moving into the bunker itself.

Matt Apple brought up a similar potential scam on the forum:

“Another problem is the targets could fake their deaths. Suppose I’m a powerful person you’ve targeted. I just buy a day and then fake my death on that day. I put out a phony death certificate, maybe I even provide some gruesome staged photos of me lying dead. The media reports me dead and the operator releases the dough to the “guesser” ie me. As soon as the anonymous transaction is completed I appear on camera at a live press conference and announce that the plans of the evil electronic terrorists have been foiled and that in an ironic twist I’m donating the bounty they had on my head to the FBI. If this happened just once then all the people pumping up those bounties will lose their faith in the system.”

If the media is so blatantly lied to, then more so than the AP bettors, the media itself will not believe future death reports. They will want to take pictures at the autopsy or do whatever it takes to have ironclad proof that this guy really is dead. If the media becomes an overt tool of the state, there will still be people who demand an objective news source, whether they are AP sympathizers or not. This demand will support the Matt Drudges of the world who will find a way around mainstream hegemony, and AP can be programmed to ignore statist media.

Murphy doubts that my army of gutter trash will be able to make a dent in the ruling class. Perhaps he’s right that the average street hoodlum will only be successful in killing mid level bureaucrats that the State can’t afford to lavish security on. However, if that were true, is it really such a crucial flaw? If AP bettors come to realize that the tiptop of the pyramid can find impenetrable missile silos to hide in, then it’s no longer cost-effective to chase them with ever higher donations. Like any institution, the State clearly needs support personnel, and even if they do choose to hide in Mt. Cheyenne, they still need people on the ground at the very least to crack heads and collect taxes to keep the lights on down in their hole. If AP bettors become frustrated that the juicy targets are out of range, the next level down is going to take the brunt of it in the face. It might be fun to be a stormtrooper, but if suddenly you, due to lack of options, become the priority target for the assassination market, maybe its time to turn in your badge and go back to a vocational school. Additionally if you are an ordinary citizen who has up to this time not been involved with AP at all, but suddenly you notice that the tax collectors who stay above ground are getting executed with alarming frequency, you might be more inclined to gamble on fudging your returns or not paying at all, and hoping that the constant harassment provided by AP will prevent the revenue harvesters from noticing you.

If the State is denuded of its agents and means of interaction, then it is just as harmless as if it had been chopped up directly.

However, it would naturally be more efficient to strike the root. AP would reach its end goal quickest, with the least collateral damage, if assassins were able to hit the politicians even in their super-bunkers. There’s an argument that there is some upper bound beyond which additional funds will no longer influence the odds of an assassination taking place. Meaning that if $500M is not enough to convince anyone to take a chance on the target, $5B probably won’t either. That may be the case for individuals, but not for groups of AP players. If a mercenary or terrorist group became interested in mounting a multi-person operation like the WTC attack, then the higher the bounty gets, the more equipment they can buy and more personnel they can recruit for the plan. If say, there were multi-million dollar bounties on Saddam Hussein (a safe example) and all his top generals and lieutenants, making their bunker a concentrated mega bounty, it could become worthwhile for some para-military unit to risk a raid. The highest paid professional mercenaries in the world are employed by Sandline International and, according to the UN (who wants to ban their line of work), they make no more than $300,000/yr. That’s not chump change, but for someone who rides shotgun in a chopper chasing down African guerrillas for a living, the extra risk driving into Baghdad might be worth the hazard pay offered by AP.

Taken to its logical conclusion, if there were enough extremely high bounties on a country’s leaders, who were all clustered into one spot, no matter how well defended, it could be cost-effective for army sized forces to be mobilized to seize the prize. So even if the top brass did hole up in the ultra bunkers, entire legions of militiamen or other adventurous chaps might come a-knocking to snag all those billions.

Murphy goes on to say that the average Americans will be horrified by the idea of AP. True, the 50% of the population who don’t bother to vote probably will not feel their time is well spent influencing the political system by AP or any other method. Of the other half, probably the majority has no deep interest in the issues or understands anything beyond doing one’s civic duty. Of that slim percentage that actually has strong to passionate views, whatever they may be, therein lies AP’s demographic. What Bob fails to realize is that AP bettors will not know what they are doing, long term. Very few people are going to consciously decide they want to get rid of government and put money on it. Instead, they will donate money against specific politicians in the hope it will help advance whatever pet cause they clutch so dearly. Think if AP were in place back in the 2000 election. Are you a greenie who can’t stand the thought of oilman GW raping poor Gaia? Give AP some of your weed money and see what happens. Are you a good ol’ boy who thinks eco-feminist Al Gore will send the beloved US of A the way of the Roman Empire? Put off buying that new truck and see what AP can do. Even the most authoritarian bastard who ever cast a ballot can list some Statists of a slightly different breed than rub him the wrong way. Do you doubt the gun culture would pass up on an opportunity to bury some liberals, or for the religious right hypocrites to take out some of the godless queers in Washington, or radical feminists putting their 79 cents on the dollar against Deep South carpetbaggers? And more importantly than private citizens, don’t forger corporate-statists, like Big Ass Subsidies Inc who’s pocket politician might lose to the candidate who’s platform calls to spend the loot on some other boondoggle. Surely they can afford a million dollar write off if their spot in line at the trough is at risk.

The point is that maybe Mrs. Soccer Mom has no strong opinions and would never think of placing a bet, but there are many, many people with strong political views, regardless of what they are. Surely the more diehard or less moral will see that they increase the chances of their guy winning, if the enemy is scared off by a rising AP tab.

And the boiling frog effect comes into play as AP makes its mark on the world. When the state predictably increases its enforcement measures, more people will see it in their best interest to bet against encroaching fascists.

If you doubt Americans will buy into this system in relevant numbers, I will repeat the point from my first article that Murphy did not address. I can concede that Americans will refuse to play, or that the Feds will manage to protect themselves (I don’t) but that does not mean AP cannot be effective. Ignore the NATO countries for a minute. Imagine AP taking root in some exotic locale like Nigeria for example. I bet a lot of those relatively well to do white farmers might take the opportunity to go online and put some money against Mugabe. I also think that one of his sadistic henchmen might be able to do the math to see that the AP prize is greater than his entire combined future earnings. The downside of the Third World is the lack of communications infrastructure, but in the coming years, ever cheaper electronics will make that less and less of an obstacle. The upside, of course, is that the leaders are rather absurdly unashamed of their predations, and very frequently there are large contingents of people who adamantly hate them. Furthermore add that these States have less sophisticated means of combating online activity it disproves of, and the fact that the population is used to politicians forcefully attempting to grab the throne. The conclusion is that many of the potential objections that apply to America and the “civilized” world are not to be found at all south of the equator. This could be an interesting testbed for the protocol. If it works, we get another blossoming Somalia. If it fails, well, the country was a hellhole before anyway.

Murphy says that if AP works well enough to destroy the state, it wonít stop there and will completely shred civilization.

He claims for example that just as disgruntled citizens can axe politicians at will, laid-off workers can axe their cost cutting former employers and that any defenses the private individuals can use, will be even easier for the state to use.

This is wrong on both counts. Not only is it harder for capitalists to be killed, they can defend themselves from AP easier.

First of all, there are vastly more high ranking business owners than there are high ranking bureaucrats. If the AP betting population suddenly gained an all consuming irrational desire to destroy capitalism, it would take a far greater monetary investment against businessmen than politicians, to reach that tipping point where targets are scared away from their positions.

Furthermore, each individual businessman has a much smaller pool of people affected by his decisions. Whereas everyone in the country has to deal with the onerous decrees of the gang in Washington, there are many orders of magnitude fewer people dependent on any given board of directors. Presumably, people who don’t work for that company will not be very inclined to donate money, just as not many Americans would bet against Italian party chiefs. Therefore if the boss does manage to royally piss off the workers, he has much fewer potential bettors against him. These are people who have just lost their source of income (with no welfare to look forward to), and have fewer co-conspirators; they will not be able to produce nearly as enticing bounties as those that public officials will accrue. Keep in mind that people who bet against politicians will be expecting their incomes to rise in the absence of taxes, and thus be more likely to bet higher.

More importantly, the boss knows who they are. If murder is being considered it’s likely due to them being whipped into a fury by some mafia goon union boss. The CEO has much more money at his disposal than an unemployed working class gang. If the union leader agitates his followers to wreak AP based revenge against the CEO, he canít expect to survive either. Anyone who attempts to rally workers to donate their already dwindling cash reserves into pointless vengeance will see his own name rising on the list faster than the CEO’s. The population of an entire state will be large enough that the number of independent people willing to put money against their powerful enemies will not require there be anyone egging them on. In order for smaller interest groups to get their petty revenge, a more coordinated effort is required. Harder still is that the potential victims have a much more conveniently sized body of suspects to watch, compared to politicians who are being targeted by anonymous bettors hiding among millions or billions.

And better still, if the CEO knows whom he fired and who is threatening him, then everyone else knows as well. Would you hire workers who had paid for the assassination of their last employer? If a group of people are fired and their ex-boss is subsequently the target of a fat AP prize, then the entire group will immediately be blacklisted by every other employer. This will provide a huge incentive for individual workers not to toe the union line. Their own reputation and future employability rests on breaking their professional relations civilly or at least without bloodshed.

This situation might instead just serve to impress upon corporations the need to be more careful in their hiring and firing. Only take on workers you really need, and only let them go after careful consideration, and in that event, possibly firing them in smaller batches, rather than mass layoffs. Nevertheless, this may indeed grant more power to workers. We must remember that not all corporations are nobly building wealth in spite of government machinations. Occasionally there really are scumbags who abuse employees, is it such a disaster if such people fear lethal retaliation for their misdeeds?

Another dystopian fear is that AP will support murders between non-famous people over petty frustrations. A scumbag husband wants to get out of a divorce without losing half his wealth, so if he thinks an AP bet worth a quarter of his wealth will get the job done, and does so. An unrelated party kills the wife, scumbag cuts his losses nicely, and the wife is horrendously aggressed against with no chance of justice for her family.

Yes, this is a problem that AP would exacerbate. Choosing your spouse carefully has always been good advice. However, if the wife’s lawyers checked the AP records and found there had been a substantial prize, despite her being a generally well liked individual, they would decide that the “unrelated” killer might not be such a random tragedy after all. And proceed to hire detectives to investigate the ex-husband’s financial records to find a similarly sized hole. Even if he expertly hid all his transactions with encryption and such, the sheer lack of other suspects may lead an arbitration committee to demand the husband prove his innocence. I assume hiring an assassin to initiate aggression will be a crime in Ancapland, but I will let others debate that.

Like the threatened businessman who knows who his potential threats are, in the case of an innocuous unknown being the victim of AP, it will be easy to discover the few or single person that has the motivation to invest the significant money involved. AP, in fact, hurts the chances of the anonymous petty murderer, because the record of one’s prize is public. Anyone who cares to investigate the death of an AP victim can see exactly how much it cost. If the victim had few enemies, it is a simple matter to make the connection between the specific sum and the likely suspects.

Compare this to the case of a low level bureaucrat that Murphy complains is just as vulnerable as the rest of us. He is right in saying that it doesn’t require one big bet, only lots of little bets. However, unless the bureaucrat has managed to piss off all those people placing the little bets, they won’t happen, and he is safe. If the bureaucrat has managed to do so then there’s probably a reason he deserves it. People in the phone book though, probably do not have multitudes of enemies, and thus are safe from all but an exceptionally wealthy psychopath, which I imagine are few and far between.

As for the extortion scheme that Jim Bell rather awkwardly argued against and Bob accurately deflated. The problem there is that the extortionist needs to have enough money of his own to actually place the bet that will attract assassins to his victim.

Fortunately, extortionists usually ply their trade because they don’t have any money. The thug could bluff, but if called on it, he has no bargaining chips in this case, like an old fashioned significant other duct-taped in the basement.

If he actually does have the money and the victim calls his bluff, if he goes through with his threat, he has just spent a shit load of money to kill someone for no reason, and with no return benefit to the extortionist. Not a very profitable scam.

If he does convince the target to play along, he still has to communicate his threat. Such exchanges usually involve some amount of negotiation, or complicated instructions that require communication. The extortionist has to sacrifice a lot of anonymity to pull his crime off. This weakness gives the presumably deep pocketed target plenty of opportunities to spend some of that ransom on private detectives to locate the extortionist. The criminal, in this case, has no human shields to prevent a raid.

The benefit of AP is to allow anonymous assassination contracts, in both the case of the vengeful labor leader, and the crafty extortionist, both lose that shield and leave themselves wide open to retaliation from the greater resources of their chosen enemies.

Another concern mentioned on the forum, is that the State, with its trillions of revenue will actually invest money into AP to off its political opponents. This is a pretty ridiculous proposal.

First of all, the enemies of your enemies are not necessarily your friends. If the State pays an AP assassin to shoot some, say, ultra-lefty criticizing them, are we really that much worse off? In fact, I’d be overjoyed to see politicians taking out AP bets against their opponents for the most part. Why should a democrat spend valuable campaign money on advertising when he could just pay to have his republican opponent drop out of the race permanently? Libertarians are rare enough that I doubt we present a serious enough threat to the State compared to their fellow parasites scrambling for the best suck spot, that theyíd spend money to attack Harry Browne instead of their opponent in the primary who has a real chance of ousting them.

Another problem with this supposed counter strategy is that it’s entirely unnecessary. If the State really wants to kill someone, they already have all the tools; they don’t need to spend money on AP. They could just give Lon Horiuchi his normal paycheck and have him snipe whoever they don’t like. It’s not as if they ever get in trouble for it, even when they aren’t exactly subtle. It doesn’t make sense for them to pay for secrecy they don’t need.

Finally, this plan would backfire, because if the admins are anarchists, and they take a commission, then the State, by playing AP, is directly enriching someone who will re-invest his profit against State targets. Also, the assassins donít care who they kill if the money’s right. The State is also enriching people who will be just as happy to come back and shoot Statists, now with more resources to plan hits too.

Bob concluded by essentially saying that the only way to anarchy is an enormous campaign of rational evangelism. He disapproves of the whirlwind anarchy in Somalia and similar power vacuums. I disagree. I see much more hope for building Ancapland out of the lawless ashes of a Somalia, than of gradually subliming the promised land out of the monolithic State in an America. If AP does prove the alarmists right, and crashes society into an apocalyptic period, (I do not think this is the case) still, such a turn of events will be in the long run an easier path to Ancapism than the intellectual erosion strategy. Murphy points out the example of the bloodless revolutions in Eastern Europe. To which I respond derisively, what revolution? They traded hard-line Russki-communism for soft line Euro-socialism. That’s even more of a joke than American style Republicrat lesser-evilism. Stasi agents all retired on embezzled millions, and now the Great Terror War is inviting domestic espionage back in force all across the Continent. The only revolution that arguably has ever made recognizable progress is the American experiment, which is notable for killing employees of the previous regime by the thousand. If Thomas Jefferson could have emailed digicash to pub brawlers in London, or scheming heirs in Buckingham palace, mad King George’s confused reign would have come to a deserved end before he could futilely attempt to reclaim his rebellious colonies. The point being, in order to get anarchism, I don’t think it’s a question of getting the balls to start sledge hammering the Berlin Wall and hope the Kalishnikov toting border guard respects the numbers presented by all your fellow civil disobeyers. If the only fall out is a different set of thugs being in charge tomorrow, there will, of course, be less State resistance than if the entire thug industry is being called into question. If you want real change as in no more thugs, ever, then the top thugs aren’t going to budge until they have no other choice. The ultimate conclusion then is that if anarchism takes a revolution of the non-bloodless variety, there’s no reason why the fighters shouldn’t be backed up by a means to get at the higher ups. Or better yet, replace the fighters entirely with anonymous assassins and strike exclusively at the heights of power. I know I don’t want to spend much time huddling in trenches.

It undoubtedly sounds arrogant, but I would say that less than 1% of the global population has any concept of how the world (i.e. economics) really works, and of those that do, most have got it horribly wrong. However, when they are forced to suddenly make do for themselves in the absence of authority, as is the case of Somalia, Ancapism spontaneously appears without the presence of wise graduate student mentors preaching Mises. It sure would be nice, naturally, if Bob could go over and warn them off from accepting UN overtures of providing “stable governance”, but the point is they were able to find profitable anarchism on their own, with little to no knowledge of economics and certainly no deep respect for pacifism. All it took was the total destruction of their state, the means notwithstanding. On the other hand, if Murphy expects to get some percentage of the population to side with him before picking up a hammer, he will definitely be taking the long uphill route.

Murphy says that a generation growing up surrounded by headlines full of dead famous people will be disastrous. I fail to see how this could be more damaging than the scores of generations stretching back into history that grew up with headlines of how great the State is. The Somalians lived through generations of war, where life was made quite cheap, yet now they are Africa’s best chance.

If AP worked perfectly and stripped the state away by force in a relatively short time frame, people will be thrust into unfamiliar territory. No doubt in their confusion they will attempt to recreate State functions. These will be torn down again and again. Like a child getting its hand slapped every time it reaches for the hot stove, AP will discipline the world that concentrations of power are bad. In the meantime, if Murphy is able to patiently explain to the bewildered why this is the case, so much the better, but either way, there will be no more State, and they will not have a choice in the matter. Murphy is essentially advocating a Taking Children Seriously approach to enlightening the collectively childlike population. I would rather just smack them until they stop and maybe explain briefly afterward why.

Lastly, it seems clear to me that AP is superior because it is a market process. People exchange value for perceived value. They invest their money for the benefit of removing aggressive people from society. On the other hand, Murphy is advocating an “educate the masses” routine that depends solely on him and his colleague’s dedication to the cause. Not to disparage his efforts, honestly, if anyone can do it, the current crop of anarchist intellectuals has got my fullest confidence. However, I really don’t think anyone is going to listen until they are already living in it. I see the economic wizard’s role as after the fact guides in the new wonderful world of anarchism wrought by AP and other market strategies. Once everyone is stuck in their regional equivalents of Somalia, and wondering what the hell just happened, Bob and co, will step in and say, “Hey, isn’t this great, look how much more we can get done now!”

And people, who have been forced to find alternatives to formerly government offered services, and no longer obey regulations or sacrifice taxable income, will sit up and finally notice Bob, and say, “What the fuck? Why haven’t we always done this? Thanks, Bob!”

Bob will then smile knowingly and go on a world wide lecture tour.

Then from time to time, a few clueless bastards will try to “get all the guns and take over”. AP will mercilessly smite them. Life goes on. In the meantime, I await the next round of objections.

Source: news.bitcoin

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