#lethal autonomy

[cavenewstimestoday]

🧠 Mind Fuel: The AI Revolution in Warfare: Are Killer Robots Already Here?

Once the realm of dystopian fiction, autonomous weapon systems—popularly known as “killer robots”—are no longer confined to the pages of science fiction. They exist now, in various forms, on battlefields and within defense research facilities. The fusion of artificial intelligence (AI) and warfare is transforming the nature of conflict, raising urgent questions about ethics, accountability,…

[blackpilljesus]

I saw this from the female separatism subreddit & the responses are some of the biggest reasons for separatism et al (or extinction if I'm being candid here). Moids cant be reformed they are fully aware of the hell they force women to live in. MaIe achievement & happiness is rooted in female exploitation & life. Their glory days are based on our horrific days. No amount of love, kindness or facts will change maIes and we cannot happily or even neutrally coexist with them.

Main points across answers:

Many want to experiment but not permanently be women

They dont want to be in constant danger or lose their autonomy at the hands of maIes for merely existing

They dont want to deal with childbirth (& periods)

They dont want to have to share spaces with species much stronger than them with ulterior motives

It makes me go crazy seeing people give moids benefit of doubt for their evil like "maIes just dont understand", "we need to teach maIes", or claiming that maIe violence is a result of maIes struggling with (expressing) their feelings. I get that women love maIes and it can be hard to imagine that people can intentionally be so evil but it is what it is. MaIes have no problems expressing themselves, abusing women is what maIes choose to do because they enjoy & benefit from it - that is their expression.

MaIes see the same news of women being abused, raped, and killed like we do except rather than be disheartened or alarmed they're either apathetic or satisfied. It isn't aliens that's committing GBV it's maIes & maIes have no problem reminding women of this when women anger them (such as rape threats & threatening women they'll end up on the news/true crime). The victim blaming, denial, and derailment of misogyny is part of the game to keep the system alive, they know the events occured & are a systemic occurence they just dont care. Hell not only do they not care, they rejoice in it or get off on it.

MaIes set up environments that work in their favour which simultaneously ensures that women will lose. They know women are set up to live in damn near impossible conditions for us. It's normalised for women to defenselessly share personal & private spaces with beings much more stronger than them with ulterior motives for us, it's trap. It's interesting how these moids aren't saying that they'll just cover up and *poof* harrassment gone, or they'll just pick a nice guy & they'll be okay. MaIes know the net negative they are towards women.

MaIes know that childbirth is a painful process & what do they do? Demand it happens and make it even MORE painful for women. MaIes that impregnate women do not love or care for them. Pregnancy itself is dangerous & sometimes lethal, often comes with a range of health issues, to cause someone to be in that condition especially in a environment where abortions are illegal is reckless & unloving. Now imagine how sinister & full of hatred one has to be to impregnate someone and abuse them on top of that. Many women risk their health & lives to reproduce with a Y and they get abused by said Y instead of being taken care of. Deranged.

Realising that maIes are aware of the evil they inflict is one of the things that radicalised me. It isn't a miscommunication or ignorance issue, their violence is intended. They want control. The cruelty is the point. Instead of wasting time & energy trying to change maIes or hope that they "understand" one day, focus on yourself & other women (who prioritise women). Moids aren't oblivious to female pain they enjoy it. A lot of women treat maIe evil like it's a mistake on maIes part but it's calculated terrorism. I know that this will go over many womens heads as they refuse to hold strong negative sentiments about moids as a collective so if you're not a woman like that, take this post as a sanity check. You aren't crazy, it isn't all in your head.

[secularprolifeconspectus]

Quick Pro-Life Responses

Keep in mind: the fundamental disagreement between pro-life and pro-choice is on whether a fetus is being formed into a person, or if the fetus is already a person and is simply developing.

Confidently assert, “you say that because you think a fetus is not a person yet.”

They may concede fetuses are people in word, but still not conceptualize them as full people worthy of equal consideration.

“I have the right to bodily autonomy.”

Abortion is literally suffocation, poisoning, or dismemberment of a living human organism.

Abortion induces fetal demise by depriving a human of oxygen, blood, or vital function.

Bodily autonomy does not justify abuse of power and excessive force over a helpless person.

Abortion, a disproportionately brutal response to a passive threat, is aggressive violence.

“No one has the right to use my body.”

Correct. But, a prenatal person does not use a pregnant person’s body. They have no agency.

A pregnant person’s body takes care of the prenate. This care is ordinary and healthy.

Abortion is not like refusing care to a dying person, it is like murdering a healthy captive.

No one has the right to murder someone who they caused to be dependent on them.

“I have the right to revoke my consent.”

When you give consent, you agree to accept the foreseeable outcomes and risks of an action.

The creation of a bodily dependent is a foreseeable outcome of consensual intercourse.

You cannot revoke consent to outcomes. You can revoke consent to actions.

You may not violently sacrifice a helpless person to “mitigate” a risk of a consensual action.

“Anything dependent on my body is a parasite.”

If you make parasites, then you’re a parasite; it’s misogynist to suggest women are parasites.

The female body would not actively try to make pregnancy happen if it were parasitic.

Prenates never directly cause pregnant people harm; they are not aggressors or parasites.

Using developmental dependency to justify murder is simultaneously ageist and ableist.

“An embryo is just a clump of cells.”

Human embryos meet NASA’s criteria for the characteristics of distinct living organisms.

Human embryos are self-directed and their development follows a body plan.

Human embryos are organized and individual. They already have inherited capacities.

Tumors and gametes do not follow an organized body plan.

“Early humans have no cognitive capacities.”

By week 3, the embryo has a spine and is developing a nervous system.

By week 5, the embryo has a rudimentary brain that controls their pulse.

By week 8, the embryo has pain reflexes and can move their limbs.

It’s incredibly ableist to use the cognitive inabilities of a human being to justify their murder.

“If a fetus is a person, so is a brain-dead human.”

A brain-dead human is, obviously, dead. It’s an oxygenated corpse, the remains of a person.

Death occurs when human organisms stop resisting entropy and lose organic integration.

Preborn people actively resist entropy (decay) and have organic integration (unity).

An early human organism isn’t dependent on a mature brain to organize her vital functioning.

“Later abortions only happen for medical reasons.”

According to two studies by pro-abortion researcher at UCSF Katrina Kimport, this is untrue.

Kimport’s studies found that the reasons for later abortions are similar to early abortions.

Later abortions aren’t euthanasia; infants are stabbed with lethal injections and dismembered.

Perinatal hospice and palliative care relieve suffering. Dying babies deserve love, not murder.

“What about rape and incest?”

Abortion is not evidence-based treatment for sexual trauma. Abortion is traumatic as well.

A preborn child should not be condemned to the death penalty for their father’s crime.

It is safe for most menstruating children to carry pregnancies to viability with sufficient prenatal care.

Children conceived in incest are likely to have disabilities; that’s not reason to murder them.

“What about health of the mother?”

Every abortion ban in the US has exceptions for if the mother’s life or body is in grave danger.

We are not against tragic cases of triage. We are against elective induced abortion.

Some procedures coded medically as abortions aren’t legally or ethically defined as abortions.

Pro-life doctors report that the bans have not impeded their ability to treat their patients.

Your Core Arguments

There is no sound evidence or consistent logic that proves the preborn are the only class of human beings exceptional to the rule that humans are people with equal rights.

If a being is in the dynamic process of bonding with us as kin, then that being is a whole actual person by the manner of actively and inherently relating to our collective humanity.

Embryonic humans are full and equal people like us because they latently embody our same capacities and are manifesting them as we are, on account of sharing our nature.

[syoddeye]

How would Price react if reader got hurt in the Strict Machine AU? Like they had to go out to get groceries and ended up getting into a scuffle with some ruffians, nothing lethal but definitely worrying

Cuz all I can imagine is his code glitching as it runs through every scenario as he wants to help but physically cant. Would he call 911(or whatever version of it exists) or would the apartment just come alive?

-✨️(Absolutely love your writing and I hope you keep it up! You inspire me to write fanfics :) )

this is the program that allegedly triggered a fatal autonomous vehicle crash. if your well-being is on the line, he's on it. (also, thank you!!!)

strict machine anthology. cw: minor injury, blood, robot john being himself

john's synced with your handy-dandy, employment-required medband. all of your biometric data, past and present, is at his disposal. the moment it signals a sudden spike in vitals—erratic heart rate, elevated cortisol and adrenaline levels—he's already bullying his way through your communications. his lack of a physical form may limit him, but he's not helpless.

like any other situation, he takes charge. bulldozes your autonomy and overrides your protests. you argue that a sprained ankle and a nasty scrape aren't worth the time or expense of emergency services. in response, john remotely removes your ability to make outbound calls without administrative permission. which…you should have, right?

he growls through your device's speaker, just loud enough to make the few passersby who stopped to check on you stare. their faces uneasy, wary. are you really letting some lines of code speak to you like that?

"user, do not make me repeat myself." the bracelet on your wrist begins to pulse, automatically connecting to emergency dispatch before you can argue further.

"john!" you hiss, slapping at the sliver of plastic and metal in a feeble attempt to disconnect. "you sent for help? really?!" bristling, you glance up at the small crowd, flashing a nervous, tight smile. your ankle throbs, and blood on your knee steadily flows out the rip in your tights.

"it's for your own good, darl." john dismisses, his modulated voice taking on a sterner tone. "if you insist on making poor decisions, i'll continue to countermand them. stay where you are."

hours later, when you finally limp home, the bitter taste of pain meds coating your tongue and the anger over john's earlier commandeering still simmering in your mind, you're greeted by an eerie quiet. it feels almost accusatory. like when your dad would wait up for you past curfew. you hear his systems, their low, droning hum, but there's no immediate response. no check-in.

you suppose, in his own way, he's frustrated with you, too. maybe all your feedback, all your complaints, are finally starting to stick. maybe he's backing off. grumbling, you try to find a position on the couch that doesn't irritate your ankle, when the extra deadbolts of the door activate, their metallic thunks echoing loudly.

a thought crosses your mind: you'll be lucky if he lets you leave again.

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

An Equal

Feyd Rahtha x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, some violence (not very graphic), there is a moment where reader is touched without express consent (NOT FEYD THO)

Words: ~ 1.1K

Description: Feyd sees you as an exotic pet. Something to collect. Something to brag about. Until, one day, he finds out about human’s lethality. Being almost killed by you in a fit of rage, he realizes that you are not just an alien. You love him. - Based on this request

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“I feel like a fucking zoo exhibit.” You mutter, pulling at the ridiculous assortment of jewels and silks draped across your body. Zoo exhibit didn’t even remotely describe it….you were more like a piece of art on display. 

Every day, Feyd sent a darling to your rooms with the clothing he picked for you. They ranged from intricate to barely-there wisps of gauzy fabric. But today? He’d really outdone himself today. A silk skirt hung low on your hips, and the matching bra fit like a glove. A sheer shawl draped crossed your shoulders. Feyd spared no expense with jewels today. Delicate gold chains wound around your exposed waist. Your arms decorated in gold bands. 

“You look beautiful,” Feyd’s darling praised. “He will be pleased.”

You roll your eyes as the darling coils your hair into a loose updo. Of course Feyd would be pleased. His little pet is dolled up and ready to show off to every disgusting bureaucrat and diplomat here for the fight.

Feyd fought often, but you’d never seen him spar in the arena before. He insisted the darlings keep you away from the arena so he didn’t ‘break your weak earthling spirit’ too soon. You should be honored at how delicately Feyd treats you, given his awful temper and violent tendencies. You were anything but. It didn’t matter how often you tried to lash out and annoy him, Feyd always laughed at your antics. 

“Come with me, he wants to see you before the fight.”

Numbly, you follow the darling as she guides you through the maze of hallways. 

“My darlings,” Feyd greets you both. He’s standing amongst a group of diplomats, towering over most of them. 

“Is this her?!” One of the more brazen diplomats steps forward, examining you like some prized show animal. You grit your teeth in annoyance as he pokes and prods you, hands lingering suspiciously long. Looking to Feyd, it’s clear you’re not the only one upset with the display. Feyd’s eyes are glued to where the diplomat’s hands rest on your hip.

You roll your eyes, batting his hand away and moving to stand beside Feyd. “Where’s your leash, pet?” He asks, tilting your head up with a hand on your chin. Feyd’s fingers trail down your throat, toying with your delicate gold necklace.

“I left it next to yours,” you offer dryly. 

Feyd’s smirk dims, his hand instantly moving to grip your neck. The pressure is noticeable, but nowhere near the strength you know Feyd is capable of. “Watch your tongue, pet.” 

Sarcasm probably wasn’t the best move today. Normally, you would shy away from any behavior that could irritate Feyd. Not today. The lack of autonomy was wearing on you, slowly stripping whatever sense of self preservation you had left. Your eyes flick up to Feyd’s, choosing to stare him down rather than respond. 

The world melts away as you both refuse to back down from the silent challenge. The same diplomat from before breaks the tension. He bows quickly before addressing Feyd. “na-Baron, you were telling us earlier how well your earthling can play the baliset, I believe as our most gracious host that you should offer us so entertainme-”

“No.” 

You fight the urge to react, but you’re just as shocked as the diplomat. Feyd frequently made you perform for guests. 

“But, na-Baron-”

“No,” Feyd said. “The fight will begin soon. That will be entertainment enough.”

Of course. Feyd wasn’t refusing because the diplomat had mistreated you earlier. He just didn’t want to delay his precious fucking fight. You step back out of Feyd’s reach. “You should go prepare for your fight, na-Baron.” 

“You wound me,” Feyd smirks. “Are you not going to wish me well for this fight?”

“I believe the drugged slaves in the arena are luck enough, na-Baron.” Now you’re definitely playing with fire. Feyd’s fists clench and he reaches for the knife sheathed on his thigh. 

You brace yourself. This is it. You just couldn’t be satisfied with pretty dresses and Feyd’s condescending affection. The novelty has worn off, and he’s going to kill you. You shut your eyes, waiting for a blow that never comes. Instead, you hear the knife clatter against the floor.

“Pick it up.” Feyd orders.

“What-”

“Pick it up.”

“I-”

“Pick it up or you will take my place fighting those ‘drugged slaves’ in the arena.” Feyd’s tone is even, no hint of humor or whatever passes as a sick joke for him.

You crouch slowly, your face heating in anger and shame as you hear laughs from the group of guests. 

“na-Baron, she would be better suited as a prize for the victor.” Your hand tightens around the handle, and you see red. You recognize that voice. The disgusting diplomat. With the wandering hands. 

Trying to calm down, you force yourself to breathe evenly. Feyd’s eyes never drift away from you, his calculating stare watching your every move. As you straight up, you feel a hand grope your ass. “Let me take her place in the arena, na-Baron. I should have her cunt as a reward when I win.”

You snap, letting instinct and rage take over. Pivoting your stance, you drive Feyd’s knife into the stomach of the diplomat behind you. His hand drops from you as he screams in pain. “You bit-”

Feyd is silent. He hasn’t moved a muscle to help his guest. 

The diplomat scrambles back, tripping over his robes and falling to the ground. You can hear screaming from the onlookers, but everything sounds as if it’s underwater. You drop on top of the diplomat, stabbing him again and again. You let it all out. The anger. The frustration. The embarrassment. You pour everything you’ve bottled up from months of captivity into every stab. 

The knife slips from your hand, dropping to the floor. 

Your gaze focuses again.

He’s dead.

You look up.

Everyone but Feyd has fled.

He’s leaning against a pillar. Arms crossed as he watches the display with an unreadable expression.

Feyd pushes off of the pillar, walking towards you. He kneels beside you, picking the blade up and offering it to you. 

“Keep it.”

You laugh through the tears. Somehow those two words meant more to you than all the empty praise and gifts. In that moment, you're more than some pampered pet. 

An equal.

NOTE: Two uploads in two days? Is this Christmas? No, it's a request I finally completed!!! Sorry, no smut here! I was really feeling this prompt and it didn't organically develop into smut. Serious writing isn't something I normally do, so I hope it did your prompt justice!! ~ Lacie <3

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[amyrosabell333]

Yandere Father Vox x Child Reader (Platonic Headcanons) 📺⚡️

⚠️Trigger warnings⚠️: Emotional manipulation / gaslighting Physical punishment / abuse (non-lethal violence) Loss of autonomy / control Surveillance / lack of privacy Parent-child toxicity / controlling parental behavior Threats / psychological intimidation Forced isolation.

Yandere Traits :📺⚡️: Overprotective / Controlling / Authoritarian / Parental/ Gaslighting & Sadistic.

Vox is one of the most strict and controlling fathers you could have as a yandere. He watches you everywhere, monitoring you through every form of media and even hidden cameras scattered throughout Hell. It's almost impossible to escape his gaze. He’s like a helicopter parent but taken to an extreme, controlling every aspect of your life, from the smallest decisions to your most personal relationships. His possessiveness knows no bounds. Vox won’t give you an ounce of privacy, constantly hovering over you, ensuring you don’t stray from his grip. He believes that as your father, he's the only one you need and he'll make sure you know it, every moment of your life. In his eyes, your soul belongs to him, and he’ll ensure it stays that way. Whether you’re a sinner or a Hellborn, it doesn’t matter Vox will still force you into a soul-binding deal, claiming you as his and ensuring you stay under his control. This allows him to control every facet of your existence. You’ll work alongside his underlings, doing his bidding without so much as a penny to your name. He won’t allow you to have your own bank account because, in his words, "You don’t need it. All you need is me to provide for you. I’m your father; I take care of everything ."At this point, you’re little more than his free labor, chained to him and his whims. Every device you’re given, every gadget or communication tool, is bugged by him. He’ll never allow you privacy not with your social media, not with the people you communicate with. In fact, Vox forbids you from making any friends or forming relationships. He believes anyone who gets close to you is a bad influence, and he’ll make sure you know that you don’t need anyone else. As your father, he is all you need for guidance and protection.

He loves parading you around by his side the ever egotistical showman now flaunting his new title as a “proud father.” Your comfort means absolutely nothing to him. Whether you're introverted, anxious, or overwhelmed, he drags you through crowds both inside and outside his building. It’s never about you only about what he wants. You're expected to obey without question, simply because “he’s the adult, and you’re the child,” and in his mind, that automatically makes him right. His fans swarm the two of you, flashing cameras and swarming reporters eager to get a scoop. They ask about his “adopted child” and what it’s like for a famous Overlord to juggle his career and fatherhood. All the while, Vox keeps a sharp eye on you, his gaze silently demanding that you put on a perfect act. You’re forced to smile, to praise him to lie through your teeth about how grateful you are to have such an extraordinary, loving father. Inside, you’re crumbling. No one in the crowd knows the truth. The obsession, the punishment, the suffocating control he forces over every aspect of your life. But you keep quiet. You keep performing. Because if you dare say anything that might damage his reputation, you'll pay for it later and Vox never forgives when his star child makes him look bad.

If you’re ever caught outside without Vox’s knowledge or supervision, It’s an opportunity for the other Vees who will gleefully exploit using your connection to him against you for their own gain. Velvette sees you as her personal test subject. Without asking, she’ll dress you up in her latest avant-garde fashion concepts, snapping endless photos for her upcoming shows. You’re little more than a doll in her hands, forced to comply unless you want her to report your whereabouts back to Vox. Valentino, ever the sleazy businessman, is far less subtle. He’ll treat you as free labor for the day, forcing you to run errands, whether it’s spying on troublesome reporters, intimidating workers who still owe him money, or handling menial tasks for his underlings. To him, you’re just another resource to exploit for his own benefit, especially since he knows Vox would never forgive you for being out of his sight. He knows Vox practically owns you, he has no qualms about using that to his advantage. If Vox catches wind of your little "escape," things get very dark, very quickly.

Punishment from him is severe, not just physically but emotionally. He begins by berating you, his smooth but cold voice dripping with disappointment and manipulation. He makes sure you feel every ounce of guilt, framing your disobedience as a betrayal of his love and protection. But scolding is just the beginning. If that doesn’t suffice, he doesn’t hesitate to escalate to physical discipline, Vox uses pain as a reminder of his authority. Vox resorts to harsher methods. He might take off his belt and use it to discipline you, or worse, unleash electric shocks from his fingertips, sending bolts of pain through your body. The shocks aren’t lethal, but they’re agonizing enough to leave you trembling, tears stinging your eyes as he reminds you, with chilling calmness, that things will only get worse if you continue to defy him. “You think you can run from me?” he growls, his glowing hypnotic eye fixating on you with terrifying intensity. “Let me remind you what happens when you break my rules.” Afterward, you lose what little freedom you had left. Vox strips you of every privilege. Your devices are confiscated. your room is monitored even more closely, and any sliver of privacy you had is gone. He keeps you by his side at all times, ensuring you’re under constant surveillance. Whether he’s sitting at his desk doing paperwork or monitoring his media empire, you’re forced to stay close sometimes even on his lap while he watches your every move. You’re reminded constantly that you’re his possession, bound by his rules and utterly at his mercy.

After each punishment, Vox takes away even more of your privileges. He treats you like a helpless child, constantly patronizing you and insisting that you’re too weak and hopeless to function on your own, regardless of how old you are. He gaslights you relentlessly, twisting your actions and making you feel guilty or ashamed for trying to break free. In his eyes, you’re simply too naïve to understand the world outside Hell. He’s only trying to "protect you" from the dangers of other demons, and he wraps you in a tight, suffocating embrace to reinforce his twisted version of "care." Vox is a strict and overbearing yandere, and escaping from his grip seems impossible. His need for control is all-encompassing. His influence spreads through every corner of Hell, with technological screens watching your every move. Whether you're in his arms or forced to stay close, Vox is always in control. His eyes are everywhere, constantly monitoring you, ensuring that there is no place where you can hide or escape. He will never let you go, for he believes that as long as you’re within his sight, you are safe his version of safety, of course, where your every thought and action is dictated by him.

[hatsunemiku2009]

Blood and Shield ༺♰༻ [Pt. 2]

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes (vampire AU)

Summary: Sam wakes up injured in a strange, old bedroom after being attacked by a mysterious creature. A man named Bucky—who Sam realizes is a vampire—claims to have found and saved him. Though suspicious and uneasy, Sam learns he was bitten by a werewolf and unconscious for two days. Bucky admits to sucking the poison from Sam’s blood to save him, which enrages Sam. Tension rises, but Bucky leaves peacefully, and Sam resolves to escape as soon as he can.

Word count: 1412

Warnings!: Descriptions of blood, bandaged wounds, and physical pain,Mentions of an unseen, violent attack that left the character injured,Involuntary medical care (blood being sucked to remove poison) ,Paranormal themes Involving vampires, werewolves, and supernatural danger. Loss of bodily autonomy distress and Psychological distress:

A/N: This part is definitely longer so hopefully it makes things more eventful. PLS reblog and support if you want to see more, or even give ideas of more things you want to see!

Keep reading!: Previous//

༺♰༻

Sam’s body had tossed and turned before his eyes slowly opened. Still dazed, he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

 He definitely wasn't outside anymore. Part of him felt relieved, but the other half was on edge. Where the hell was he now?

From what he could see, he was in a room. A bedroom to be exact—Victorian and old. His nose picked up a familiar stench. Blood. It smelt old and dried up, like it had soaked into the floorboards and never fully been cleaned.

Sam winced.The pain in his body surged to the front of his mind now that he was awake and aware.  His head throbbed, and every muscle aches. He groaned, slowly forcing himself upright.

The first thing he noticed—other than the pounding headache—was that he was shirtless (thankfully not naked), wrapped in a blanket that was definitely more ugly than warm.

Then the memory hit.

He was attacked. By something he never even saw.

The memory came rushing back to him as his breath hitched before removing the blanket from his lower body.

His leg was…fine?

Well not completely. It was carefully wrapped in bandages, but he could see the blood soaking through the cotton. So that's what he was smelling—his blood.

However Sam’s pain was the last thing he could care about. 

Where was he?

He looked around the room for anything: A weapon, more specifically his weapons,  an exit, anything that could be used to defend himself if it really came down to it. He hated this—being defensively and vulnerable. 

The room was dimly lit. His vision blurred slightly and his ears still rang. But he could make out what looked like a door.

A way out.

Or.

A way in.

A creeping sense of dread slid down his spine.  Something was coming.

Footsteps.

Closer. Closer.

The door creaked open. Slowly. Agonizingly slow. Like whoever was on the other side was trying to scare him.

Then a man stepped inside.

It was hard to make out details in the dim lighting, but Sam saw enough: tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in layers of Henleys and jackets. Shoulder-length hair. He looked…normal?

Brooding. Not quite threatening.

But his eyes…

Lifeless. Drained.

Not human anymore.

“Glad you're awake—I was worried you lost too much blood.” The strange man had said slowly, breaking the silence between the two of them.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. His lips parted to speak before he realized how dry his mouth was.

The strange man spoke again.

“Do you…remember what happened to you—how you ended up here?”

Hesitantly, Sam nodded. He remembered how he took this stupid mission without any help, and wandered way too far into the same random town in Washington, and then getting attacked by something fast, unseen, and lethal.

The man seemed to notice Sam's lack of a response.

“On second thought, I'll bring you some water.” The man scurried out quickly. Too quickly.

Sam wasn't sure if he should trust this man, let alone take water from him. But with his body's current state, he didn't have much of a choice.

Moments later, the man returned with a bowl of water. Odd choice—but Sam wasn’t in a position to be picky.

The man knelt in front of Sam, handing him the bowl.

Sam studied his face more closely now. In this light, he looked more…human. Tired. Rough stubble around his face. Hollow eyes and dark circles under his eyes. But the scent–god, the scent.

It was wrong.

A subtle rot.

Like roadkill.

But it was so sickeningly sweet—intoxicating.

 Sam had a fair share of dealing with supernatural creatures, with their own distinct look and smell. But this was different. He had never encountered anything like…this?

Only one person warned him about a thing that carried his scent. .

His old friend.

A man who had disappeared for a mission and never came back

He remembers the day those words left Steve's mouth.

Vampires.

The realization struck hard. Sam's body moved on instinct—he smacked the bowl out of the man’s hands. It clattered across the floor.

Sam tried his best to back away, but since his leg was pretty much dead, he didn't really get that far away.

The man stood quickly, raising his hands in defense.

“Wait! I know this looks bad but trust me, I'm not going to hurt you. Not unless you give me a reason to”

Sam froze. If he continued to panic like he was known, the man would retaliate. Being in the state he was in, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on slowing his breathing. Inhale. Exhale.

 He’d been in worse situations before. He’d made it out of worse. He just needed to stay smart. Stay quiet. Stay alive.

His body was failing, but his mind was still sharp.

The man—vampire  sits across from Sam on the floor. He kept his distance, and seemed apprehensive to speak.

“I'm Bucky. I found you in the woods and brought you here.” 

His voice was low. Cautious. 

Sam eyed the man—Bucky. He figured it wouldn't hurt to give his name.

“Sam.”

Bucky squinted. “Your folks just stop at Sam?”

“No. I just prefer not to give a monster my full name.”

Bucky nodded—he looked like he understood but was clearly offended by his comment. 

“I figured you were a hunter,” he muttered. “Crossbows. Silver knives. Holy water. Kind of gave it away.”

He shifted closer, but Sam still pulled back not that it really mattered.

“You were hurt pretty badly—I couldn't just leave you there. Not with… those things outside.”

Sam eyed Bucky. Sure, a part of him was relieved that someone had found him and took care of him, but of all things why would a..vampire take him in?  The best thing Sam could do for now was to ask him what had happened while he was asleep, and then find a way to get the hell out of here in one piece.

“How long was out for…?” 

The Vampire seemed to ponder before he answered, “only 2 days—nothing too bad. I thought you were a goner to be honest, but your body was still warm.”

Sam figured he would keep asking him questions, it was really the only way to understand what was going on.

“Did you ever see what attacked me?” Sam asked, waiting for a reaction.

“No, but I think I have a good idea of what it could've been,” he mummerd, “Judging from the bite, I think it was just a werewolf. The blood was intoxicated…which is probably why you were out longer.”

Sam scoffed—the thing that bit was just a werewolf.

It felt so cliche and dumb. How did he let something like this happen, and now hes being nursed by a vampire…

Sam thought for a moment. If his blood was poised, then how did he get it out? He knew the side effects of being poised, or having it in your blood, but he didn't suffer from it.

Sam’s face went cold. His face paler than earlier, as his brown eyes blew wide.

“Did you…suck it out of me..?”

Bucky huffed, like he knew this question was going to come up—he just wasn't sure when.

“I-,” he paused, “It was the only thing I could do. You were already losing so much blood—and if I let the poison run through you would be dead by now. I know what it sounds like…but I haven't fed a human in years. I swear.”

“You took advantage of me! I don't care if you don't drink from humans—you didn't have to save me!”

Sam realized he was probably being dramatic, but still. He couldn't believe he had got in this predicament and was honestly tired. 

This whole mission was a disaster from the beginning, and now he was suffering the consequences from it.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, clearly stressed and not sure what to make out of the situation anymore.

“You don't have to believe me, but I only wanted to help you.”

Sam turned away before Bucky got up from his spot on the floor and walked towards the door.

“I'll let you get more rest. We can talk more tomorrow,” his eyes shifted to the ground like he wanted to say more but didn't.

The door clicked shut.

Sam slumped back on the floor, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

He needed to get out of here. Fast.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - When Stars Burn Out

Summary: You can't stand idly by and watch Shoji be hurt.

Warnings: extreme angst, death, suffocation, injury, dangerous situations

(I'm so sorry for this, yall!)

There was a saying you'd always heard, ever since your first day at UA. "Real heroes act without thinking."

Maybe that's why you were plummeting stories to your demise right now, barely conscious at all. When you'd seen one of your friends in peril, your legs moved before your brain did. After all, he'd never once asked for anyone's help, always the one doing the rescuing. Maybe that's when you saw his torn face for the first time, and heard a guttural cry for help rip from his throat, you lept into action.

Instinct took over as you gathered all your strength, pouring every ounce of energy you had into one experimental special move. Your eyes began to roll back as your feet lifted off the ground and inorganic debris gravitated to your body, battering it as it clung to you. Within minutes, you'd transformed from a timid and fragile human into a hulking, mindless golem- several stories tall. Only one thought repeated in your clouded brain as you trudged forward, leaving casualties and mass destruction in your wake.

"Shoji..." You moaned in a zombie-like state, eyes falling on him as he lay pinned and vulnerable to be done in. Rage boiled between your skin and the armor you'd built as you reached the villain, bloodthirsty in your own right. Raising a heavy left arm, you easily swatted the man away, without so much as a second thought to how lethal your attack could have been. "Stop...hurting...Shoji..." your dumbed voice echoed as you knelt down to brush away debris with your fingers, digging for him. "Shoji..." you lamented, falling into dispair when you didn't immediately find him.

Finally, a tendril slipped weakly out of the rubble, signaling his location, and you rushed over as quickly as your gigantic size would let you, pulling him free. With the utmost care, you plucked him up by his tattered shirt and set him in your jagged palm, prodding at him gingerly. "Wake up..." you begged, voice low and distorted in your monstrous form.

To your relief, he finally stirred in your oversized hand, an insect in comparison. "Ngh..." Shoji hummed, bringing a hand to his head in agony, then to his lips with horror. Where was his mask? Come to think of it, where was he? Glancing up, he took you in in awe, still not recognizing you. "W-Who...?"

At last, exhaustion began to overtake you as your control over the debris began to slip. Piece by piece, your golem began to disassemble, falling and raining down from the sky. With your last ounce of autonomy, you lean down, letting the energy that keeps your hand together disintegrate around him when he was safely back on the ground.

Weakly, he peered up as the head of the golem that housed your body began to crumble and you started freefalling, consciousness totally gone. Shoji watched you plummet for a moment, eyes adjusting to the bright day sky. All at once, understanding hit him like a left hook as he recognized the telltale color of your hair, billowing above you.

With energy he'd exhausted long ago rediscovered, he darted for your path, gaze fixed on you as all six of his arms stretched out, preparing to catch you. Finally, you hit him like a meteor- a fallen star cradled in the hammock of his webbed skin. The blow knocked him over- not like it was hard in his state, but what mattered was that he caught you. Despite the relieved, toothy grin on his face, he still collapse, asleep before he hit the ground with you so snug and secure in his grasp. You were both alive and together, that was all he cared about.

Nothing could uncoil his tendrils from you, unstick you from his trap- not even paramedics. When help finally arrived, you were transported to the hospital together. Maybe that's why your pitiful state wasn't realized until you were laying on the gurney in intensive care.

There was barely a bone in your body that wasn't shattered, or fractured at the very least. Between the impact of the debris collecting against you and the fall you took, your body was in rough shape. That wasn't what the medics were focused on, though. It was the greyish blue hue that was beginning to stain your lips and nail beds.

In a sick twist of fate, it hadn't been the fall or the overuse of your quirk that had taken your breath away. It was the way Shoji held you so securely, face pressed into his chest, suffocating you in a loving embrace.

[synchodai]

Does Astarion have a soul?

Even before Larian muddied the waters by introducing their special boy (who defies a lot of conventional D&D vampire rules), there's been a lot of debate amongst players whether undead have souls. Which undead have souls? Incorporeal undead like ghosts and banshees are lost souls, after all, but what about corporeal undead? Are they just necrotic fleshbots (as per Eberron rules)? Does it have something to so with their sentience or power level or autonomy?

A lot of Forgotten Realms source books are contradictory, deliberately vague, and told through multiple unreliable POVs, so we don't really have a definitive answer. D&D vampire lore isn't exempt from this. Usually, the answer is just "DM ruling" since the point of D&D is to twist rules and lore to accomodate the players' stories.

In BG3's case, Astarion clearly still has a soul because he can do the following:

Bargain it with devils

Receive blessings from Astral Plane deities

Attune to equipment (or BG3's version of attunement with the Necromancy of Thay)

Can be revivified and (true) resurrected (unique to Astarion, as other vampire spawn turn to mist when they are lethally damaged consistent with D&D rules)

Unless the mindflayer tadpole re-ensouled Astarion somehow (very very VERY unlikely), this means that vampire spawn retain their souls even after dying.

That being said, I highly discourage turning your PC into a vampire spawn if you're playing D&D. Because they are under the complete thrall of their sire, you will lose any player agency. They will effectively become an NPC and you will have to roll for a new character to continue playing.

This also means a spawn!Tav is not a true vampire spawn since they maintain their free will and cannot be compelled (at least, from what I've heard as I've never gone down spawn-AA route).

Spawn!Tav Implications (aka spoiling your "vampire bride" theories)

I've seen posts going around citing Van Richten's Guide to Vampires (a 2e source book) to explain spawn!Tav's transformation. However, if we were indeed going by 2e rules, Astarion would have to be an ancient vampire (400-499 years old) to be able to make a vampire bride/groom.

In Curse of Strahd, Strahd's consorts function mechanically as regular vampire spawn. As far as I know, there is no special ritual to designate "brides" or "consorts" in 5e. Sources have never specified how much blood a spawn needs to draw from their sire to become true vampires, so theoretically, even one drop should be enough.

And so, here is my more likely theory that explains spawn!Tav: Astarion, either accidentally or deliberately, made his first spawn into a true vampire — into another Vampire Ascendant even. This is the theory I'm leaning towards because it's the funniest and is in-line with Astarion's characterization of not making the wisest decisions and sometimes plain-old just not knowing what he's doing.

But hey, if you still want to use 2e Vampire Bride/Groom rules to explain Ascendent Astarion and spawn!Tav's relationship, feel free to do so. At the end of the day, this is D&D and it all comes down to DM's ruling.

[buds-and-baubles]

the disability allegory found in chris kent's story

hi everyone! i had talked about this briefly but wanted to talk about sometbing in chris kent's story that is in no way canon, but spoke to me in a way as being an allegory for chris being disabled.

those who have read for him are familiar to his being a story of six year old chris kent who endured abuse and neglect at the hands of his parents, zod and ursa, and how utterly devastating it was to discover.

when i had read that, i connected some of his various experiences that not only is he abused and neglected, but also disabled, based on the way not only zod and ursa describe chris, but also how chris describes himself (internalized ableism).

as well, his various experiences with his sickness when he wore the red-sun watch that got worse until it was removed and was destructive not only for chris but for the apartment, and the entire age-up plot.

starting off from the beginning of his story, he's brought to department of meta-human affairs and his first feat of lifting a tv set above his head is shown to be observed by a plethora of doctors. they move him when they discover he's kryptonian, having unknown but likely nefarious plans for what to do with chris.

anyone who is disabled can certainly feel like they're being observed through a looking glass by a team of doctors, and how our own autonomy is largely determined by those in lab coats who oftentimes do not care.

the next instance we can see an example of this allegory is during the time chris is wearing the red-sun watch. he needed it to learn how to control his powers, but in the end, it hurt him and he said nothing about how sick it made him until he was in absolute agony and lois removed it. which.. lead to a burst of pain and fear for chris and the destruction of their apartment.

those who are disabled will oftentimes, do anything they can for any management of symptoms even if it means other areas of the body may end up being caught in the crossfire.

i myself will avoid taking ibuprofen unless absolutely necessary even if it will help my pain because i don't want to risk it upsetting my gerd.

clark and lois are very good parents about all this and not only let chris know that it's okay to let them know when he's hurting, but that they will not do anything with a red-sun watch unless the new one can be calibrated for a child kryptonian rather than an adult.

the next instance of examples of the disability allegory is during his entire age-up part of comics, like the picture of a panel at the top of this post.

"perhaps the phantom zone has, in some way, altered his genetic structure, and that, in combination with exposure to earth's yellow sun, a mutation triggered."

oftentimes physical disabilities in the way this is described are a result of altered genetic structure where a mutation occurred. arthritis, for example, is a multifactorial disorder that can be a genetic disorder.

his entire age-up scenario can be read as this unstable genetic structure being a genetic disorder, possibly multifactorial due to many contributing factors.

another contributing factor to chris being possibly disabled could be due to the abuse and neglect he endured with zod and ursa, in addition to 'the nature of his birth'.

environmental factors can be huge due to the sheer stress and trauma of a kid trying to survive abuse and neglect can cause, alongside not receiving the proper amount of nutrition, healthcare, and education.

one page actually referred to what chris was experiencing as a disorder, actually.

"a kryptonian by birth, nightwing's genetic structure was mutated as a result of his conception and birth in the phantom zone. possessed of the standard kryptonian power set, he is marginally, if demonstrably, weaker than the rest of his race when under earth's yellow sun. kryptonite, while still lethal to him, takes longer to reach full effect."

"in the care of superman and lois lane, lor, renamed "christopher," began a new life, free from the trauma and hardship he had previously experienced."

"his education by both"

"upon reentry, he suffered the first of three bouts of "burst-aging" he has since undergone, his body growing the equivalent of several years in mere seconds. the source of this disorder is unknown, and nightwing is quite concerned when the next "episode" will occur."

this page certainly seems to align with everything i described, yes?

the way his "episodes" are shown feels rather in line with how it is for people who are disabled with a chronic illness, which has periods of flareups where the disease will be worse due to a variety of factors, oftentimes, stress.

and guess what was a suggested contributing factor for chris' age-ups? stress.

at the end of this age-ups where he is now an old man and doesn't have long to live, it is a cure of a bracelet on his wrist to maintain not his original age, but much younger than the old man who was on death's door. in fact, when it is removed, thara panics on his behalf.

this is a very real thing for disabled people, where their only treatment will be taken away, or treated like a pawn in arguments or healthcare battles. each year, many disabled people die due to the healthcare system refusing to give the treatments that can keep them alive.

the bracelet for chris, is like the arthritis meds for me that allow me to be able to walk.

the next example is a minor instance of two xenophobic (and ableist if you factor in the disability allegory) u.s. soldiers under general sam lane's command who had attacked chris.

"thought it took more to put one of the k's down."

"it does, so maybe he isn't a k."

a common experience for being disabled not only is being weaker than the average person, but also being seen as less than or not even human to an able-bodied society.

you know what the second sentence says? they don't even consider chris his own race because of his weakness. because of being weaker than the average kryptonian.

these soldiers aren't the only people who describe chris this way.

zod and ursa (ursa shown above), also describe chris the same exact way as the soldiers. i am unable to find an example i have of zod saying the same, but i know for a fact he has used the same words as ursa does.

"my disgusting, weak, mewling mutation of a son."

just everything in this panel fits exactly as i describe.

unfortunately due to the abuse and neglect, chris himself describes himself the same way. this in canon can be contributed to the mutation and nature of his birth as well as being seen less than due to his weakness by not only his parents, but even humans or other kryptonians who were in the phantom zone with zod and ursa.

"i don't, you're right. but i learned other powers in the zone--"

this line to me, speaks as other powers making up for his weakness, the disability.

"i'm not as strong as you or thara, not as invulnerable."

chris admits (and knows) he's not the same as other kryptonians, but it doesn't stop at that.

"we have always been more than kryptonian, have we not?"

"less, you mean."

look up above at the panel of ursa and you can see it's exactly how ursa and zod describe chris. that because of his weakness, he's not a true kryptonian. that he's a mutant, some freak born in the phantom zone.

internalized ableism is a battle most if not all disabled people experience. if society and even our own caretakers (oftentimes parents/guardians) subject us to abuse, medical abuse, and neglect, what is to be expected but to believe the words told to us? it is a battle i myself struggle with, to escape the thought process of being less than other people because i cannot do what others can.

one of the last examples was an unexpected bit i realized... chris and non's described dynamic.

non, the man who was lobotomized for trying to save krypton, and chris, the boy born in the phantom zone who is described as being weaker than most kryptonians and having a disorder.

non, who was the only person in fort rozz who treated christopher with consistent kindness. non, who is the only one who can understand what chris is going through.

that the phantom zone and their own bodies are their prisons.

the last example itself involves the phantom zone.

the phantom zone to me reads as a massive metaphor for loneliness, even described as loneliness in various issues. an encompassing depressing darkness of loneliness that only those who have been in it can understand.

chris describes the phantom zone as cold and lonely.

being different in any capacity is lonely. being disabled can be an incredibly isolating experience that will create a brand of loneliness you cannot control.

friends will move on without you in activities because you're tired. family will do so too. life will flash you by, while you stay contained at home, like it's a prison just as much as your body is.

and you know the god nightwing who was harmed and condemned to the phantom zone was lonely and missing flamebird, understood chris. knew how much he suffered.

that's really all i got! hope y'all enjoyed reading me finding examples of what i find to be disability allegory in chris' journey in comics.

[ameliafuckinjones]

So I just finished reading "Uncle Sam is to be sacrificed: Anglophobia in late 19th century politics and culture" which -to summarize- essentially discusses the Anglophobia that ran concurrent with Anglophilia due to America's rising imperial interests in the Western Hemisphere (interests which were ironically protected by British presence in the Western Hemisphere from other European powers), economic nationalism, populism and grassroot politics. You had the Northeastern states that leaned more toward Anglophilia among the WASP population all the while nurturing a growing Irish population -fleeing imperial Britian- with a strong and lethal bent toward anti-British/Anglophobia sentiment not only to stoke a strategic anti-British culture within American politics but to also emphasize their Americanness by drawing parallels between Ireland's revolutionary struggle with Britian and America's revolutionary struggle with Britian.

As a result, politicians courting the Irish vote and Irish Newspapers often attacked -who they dubbed- the Anglomaniac who loved Britian more than he loved America. Anti-British sentiment was also prevalent in the south, midwest, and western states due to populism, Wall Street elites, and British ties to it. There was also some anti-British sentiment due to holdover resentments from the Civil War (both with former confederates who suspected British influence in the abolition/emancipation movement and former unionist who believed the British sought to ally itself with the rebellious south as seen via the Alabama claims).

Anglophobia in America dies down during the Spanish-American War, where the loudest critics of Anglomania/Anglophilia (mainly political factions that once used Anglophobia as a tool for electorate victory) change course and begin to draw on shared heritage and interests between America and Great Britain with regards to imperialism and opposition against common foes in the old world (Spain and eventually Russia during the Russo-Japanese war in 1904). Though, even during the height of anti-British sentiment, it was married with begrudging respect.

Anglo-Saxonism in this article doesn't seem to be interchangeable with Anglophilia, but a state in which one maintains a rivalry with Britian alongside a camaraderie in a united goal for imperial ambition. Anglo-Saxonism (as well as Anglophobia, which can be seen as a branch of Anglo-Saxonism alongside Anglophilia) was a simply pragmatic assessment paired with transatlantic sympathy for Britian and vice versa. America was the rising power clashing with the pre-eminent power that ironically often acquiesced to the former's demands and sought out a closer relationship based on familial and imperial bonds. You'll note that as Anglophobia sentiment found purchase in American political thought, Americomania steadily grew in Britain among some of its elite, such as Andrew Carnegie, who yearned for a re-union between America and Great Britain.

So America's heart was basically in conflict with itself. He yearned for England, wanted to emulate him both culturally and politically all the while resenting him for what he saw as an overstepping of bounds upon his (economic and international) autonomy as an independent nation paired with a desire to surpass England in a seemingly one-sided rivalry. Meanwhile, England just wanted to be friends and do imperialism together, nursing power fantasies of two Anglo-Saxon nations conquering the world and beating up their annoying enemies (Russia, Spain, Germany, etc).

I'm sure I'm missing some things (and I link the article which I annotated if anyone wants to read, but you do need Adobe Acrobat, I think), but this is the gist of it. I'll probably go over it again while looking up more articles that discuss Anglophobia in America. From what I'm gathering, though, the animosity was mostly one-sided. Even when England takes a semi-antagonistic stance toward America, as he did during the Civil War, he makes a great effort to show remorse and apologizes via Alabama claims and Treaty of Washington:

Reading and analyzing this article is my way of challenging my thoughts about their (mainly) pre-WWII relationship and finding a balance between hostility and friendliness for them. At the moment, I'm of the mind that America still idolized and emulated him but had a really funny, rebellious, and childish way of showing that which exasperated and perplexed England to no end. Like America really likes and wants to be like England, is terribly conscious of this fact, and really, really resents it for a point in time before fully embracing it (again?). But the animosity is all one-sided, because England doesn't have that many hard feelings about their past squabbling, apologizes when he truly feels like he messed up or overstepped, tries to do things to indirectly/directly support America's political interests, and tries to foster friendship and camaraderie between them and...America is just NOT having it (but is secretly loving it and wants more even as he rebuffs it until finally giving in for a moment toward the end of the 19th century???).

[sufrimientilia]

intro

hi. this is way overdue.

mae she/her (21+)

i'm a little shy with the whole meta part, but i'm a long-time lurker of the whump community and sometimes i try to write!

my activity fluctuates because IRL sucks. no posting schedule just chaos

still learning tumblr but i follow whump blogs!

my favorite things: violence, dark themes, living weapons, drugs and sedatives and poisons, incapacitation, mind control, lab rats, captivity, worried caretakers, male whumpees who are morally grey/defiant/conditioned, strong and dangerous but made to suffer. dead dove content warning.

˗ˏˋ¡inbox open!ˎˊ˗

i accept asks, motivates me to write! (tropes, oneshots, gen)

MASTERLISTS:

all oc but i haven’t posted any names yet lol. perpetually a wip

assets ⋆ living weapons contracted and sold as assassins, bodyguards, and soldiers by an unknown syndicate deeply embroiled in international affairs. treated like dogs and monsters, these assets are both dangerous and deeply controlled. submissive until something finally makes them snap. - The Exchange - Does that hurt? - Friendly Faces - It didn’t have to be this way

the facility ⋆ subjects are given a unique identifier and nothing else. no name, no belongings, no autonomy. everything stripped away in the pursuit of science. - [Intake] coming soon - Research Log - The Regimen - You'll feel all better soon - The Director - Harvest

vampverse ⋆ creatures of the night, lethal and alluring. assorted stories featuring hypnosis, captive thralls, and our favorite bloodsucking monsters on the hunt. - It’s not as bad as it looks - Help me - Well, well, well… - Taking Turns - Dinner Bell - Cavernous Cravings

[ritchiepage2001newaccount]

Project2025 #TechBros #CorpMedia #Oligarchs #MegaBanks vs #Union #Occupy #NoDAPL #BLM #SDF #DACA #MeToo #Humanity #FeelTheBern

JinJiyanAzadi #BijiRojava People of Iran [UPDATES]

مردم ایران شما چیتون از این دختر و پسرا کمترە… اینا هم با فرقی ندارن، یه زمانی اسیر بشار اسد خونریز دوست خامنه ای بودن، اما الان زندگیشون آزادیرو معنی میکنه زن و مرد دست در دست هم تا خیابونارو تسخیر نکنیم چیزی عوض نمیشه.

FreeSepideh

سپیده_قلیان

طراحی_سوخته

They are no different, they were once captives of Bashar al-Assad, the bloodthirsty friend of Khamenei, but now their lives mean freedom. Man and woman hand in hand Nothing will change until we conquer the streets…

RELATED UPDATE: Uses and Abuses of Fashion: Veiling and State Power in Iran

RELATED UPDATE: The Kurdish struggle in Iran: Power dynamics and the quest for autonomy

RELATED UPDATE: Iran: Security Forces Killing Kurdish Border Couriers

RELATED UPDATE: A Quiet Revolution Continues in Iran Two Years After the Woman Life Freedom Uprising

RELATED UPDATE: YPJ remembers Jina Amini and all the martyrs of the ‘Jin, Jiyan, Azadi’ revolution

RELATED UPDATE: Afrin Liberation Forces pay tribute to their co-founder Karker Tolhildan

RELATED UPDATE: How the Abraham Accords and Kurdish alliances could transform the Middle East

RELATED UPDATE: Martyr Herekol book fair in Qamishlo comes to a close

FURTHER READING:

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dan Rather at Steady:

I am able to write this piece today because I have the autonomy and independence to do so. CBS News’s “60 Minutes,” my home for many years, can no longer say the same. Because of Donald Trump, and because of a corporate lust for cash, “60 Minutes” now has oversight and overlords. Prying eyes from corporate offices are never a good thing when reporting the news. Journalism must operate without fear or favor. Independence is necessary for superior journalism. Over the past 57 years, “60 Minutes” has developed into this country’s best at what it does, and one of the best in the world. But suddenly this week, we’re left wondering if “60 Minutes” can ever be at its best again. The stopwatch is now under sustained attack from a lethal combination of President Trump and corporate greed. It’s hard to imagine, but as someone inside the venerated CBS broadcast told us today, the atmosphere at the office “is a s***show.” Whoa. That’s like hearing chimpanzees are now assembling fine Swiss watches. “60 Minutes” is the cash cow of the Tiffany network and a program with more accolades and awards than any in the history of television.

Suddenly none of that matters, because the program is losing its leader. Bill Owens, the program’s executive producer, abruptly left on Tuesday. I have known him for more than 35 years and know him to be in the best tradition of CBS’s storied news producers. In an email to his staff, Owens explained why he was leaving a program that has been his life for 24 years. “Over the past months, it has also become clear that I would not be allowed to run the show as I have always run it. To make independent decisions based on what was right for 60 Minutes, right for the audience.”

What happened? Why would Owens walk away from one of the most powerful and lucrative jobs, not only in journalism, but in the country?

I still know some of the terrific journalists at “60 Minutes.” An insider reminded me, “You know about Shari. That’s the story. Greed.” So, let me tell you about Shari. You may never have heard her name, but Shari Redstone is a player — in Hollywood and in corporate America. She’s a 71-year-old multimillionaire as well as controlling shareholder and board chair of Paramount Global, the parent company of CBS News. She is trying to sell Paramount to Skydance, owned by the son of Oracle founder and billionaire Larry Ellison. If successful, she will become a billionaire, more than tripling her net worth. To make the deal happen, she needs the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) to approve the sale, and the clock is ticking. The FCC has to decide in the next 20 days. Donald Trump appointed the FCC commissioner. You can see where this is going. One wouldn’t characterize Trump as a “60 Minutes” superfan. I reported on Trump for a story on “60 Minutes” back when he said he was thinking about running for president in 2000. His “campaign” at the time was a sham, and we reported that. Trump hated the story. It appears not much has changed in 25 years.

In a social media post on April 13, Trump lambasted the newsmagazine, calling it “derogatory and defamatory.” He suggested that “they are not a ‘News Show,’ but a dishonest Political Operative” and that “they should lose their license.” Trump’s dislike runs so deep he is suing CBS News for $20 billion (yes, billion), claiming “60 Minutes” tried to mislead voters by airing two different edits of remarks made by Vice President Kamala Harris. A wide range of legal experts say the suit is without merit. Regardless and to no one’s surprise, Trump’s FCC has opened an investigation. And Paramount, much to the horror of the “60 Minutes” staff, is in mediation to settle with Trump — for something less than $20 billion.

[...] When corporations like Disney (which owns ABC) and Comcast (which owns NBC) and billionaires like Amazon’s Jeff Bezos (who owns The Washington Post) are more concerned with bending the knee and kissing up to Trump than with providing their viewers and readers the best reporting, democracy suffers. There are fewer and fewer journalists holding the powerful accountable … and boy, is there a lot to hold to account these days. What does this mean for the future of “60 Minutes” and its next executive producer? Will the program’s weekly audience of millions be able to trust a news product that has been vetted not to offend politicians nor hurt a corporate bottom line? Donald Trump is smiling that the questions are even being asked. Redstone could be the savior of this story, defending “60 Minutes” and the First Amendment … though we’re more likely to see water run uphill. The real hero is Owens, who is standing up for journalistic integrity and independence while suffering the personal consequences.

Bill Owens’s former CBS News colleague Dan Rather wrote a superb Substack post on the resignation of Owens from calling the shots on 60 Minutes to protect editorial independence.

See Also:

The Warning (Steve Schmidt): Bill Owens: the last of 'Murrow's Boys'

[codenamesazanka]

Why do you think hori decided to make decay one part of overhaul? I know many fans believe its so he can awaken the reconstruct part later but that sounds too contrived

hmmm, my take is... it's to make the world more boring, making AFO a super dick who's responsible for everything wrong in the world, and so relieve a burden from the Heroes.

It is my belief that people are too caught up in the Overhaul part (while also too dismissive of Overhaul the guy), and part of that is the need for copium for Shigaraki to come back and save his League/redeem himself. They need a miracle for the League to survive, and they need an excuse for Shigaraki to not be treated badly by the Heroes afterwards. If Shigaraki has 'Overhaul' quirk, and proves himself by having the ability to 'heal', then Shigaraki can justify his existence to the Heroes as useful/less lethal/benevolent-due-to-healing-power. I know that's not what's intended, but that's what it comes off as. Shigaraki with 'Decay' gets killed by a Hero; but Shigaraki who comes back (especially as Tenko) with a different quirk can stay? It's a bad look, even if coincidental.

(But who knows! Maybe he will do exactly that. We're at Horikoshi's mercy.)

I think the derived-from-Overhaul thing is just to make AFO a super asshole who went out of his way to make A Very Dangerous And Scary Quirk, one that will guarantee ostracizing status for Tenko because society already discriminates against 'villainous' quirks - and by doing so, actually gives Hero an easy out of doing something about their quirk society.

Decay - a five-finger automatic touch disintegration quirk - is a highly, easily destructive and lethal power. If it's naturally existing, if a five-year-old can randomly awaken this ability, it spells out trouble for the world. How would parents respond to their child having such a quirk? How to treat this child with the full love and respect they deserve - because all children deserve full love and respect! - without alienating and hurting them? How would one raise this child to be mindful and careful and responsible, without also overburdening them or making them feel like they're a dangerous monster?

Is the solution to make Shigaraki/Tenko wear gloves? That seems simple at first, what if Shigaraki/Tenko doesn't want to? What if gloves are annoying and gives him rashes from wearing them all the time or it interferes with his hygiene? What if he simply wants his hands free? But when his gloves are off, people get antsy and nervous around him, worrying about that 'what if'? How do you balance personal autonomy and other people's safety? How do you balance "what is convenient for other people" with "what is right for me?"

Decay is a really interesting quirk to exist in a world where quirks can be anything and in a story that asks what it means to live in a superpowered society. We've seen that HeroAcaLand is not very kind to people with quirks that gives them trouble fitting in with a norm. Quirks that violate taboos like Toga's; quirks that give people 'scary' or 'gross' appearances like heteromorphic quirks ; quirks that are seen as 'villainous' - the people holding these quirks (which is their innate ability, a natural part of themselves as much as their eye color and limbs!) get mistreated because society lets their prejudices and preconceived ideas take over and taint their treatment of such individuals. This is a problem in the world of bnha, but it's rarely ever touched upon besides a general lesson of basically "tough luck, mind yourself and suck it up until things get better".

People have pointed out that Toga's quirks and heteromorph quirks has got this covered, but Decay is unique in its seemingly mutation manifestation and its extreme aspects. It's automatic except for a few conditions; it's immediately lethal. It would be been so good to see how Heroes handle that.

Deku stops Decay only because he's in the dreamscape and can just imagine himself not getting disintegrated. How convenient! If it had taken place in real life, how would he have dealt with Decay in a way that wouldn't have scared Tenko off yet also protected Deku's and the Shimura's safety? Would Deku tie the five-year-old up with black whip? Would Deku hold (and break) his wrists like he did with Shigaraki in reality? Would Deku have to evacuated the Shimuras, leaving poor Tenko to watch a Hero save people *from him*, and then remain alone for however many agonizing minutes? Would Deku be forced to stay far away and yell encouragements while waiting for backup, for the right Hero with the right quirk to come (essentially mimicking what Heroes made Bakugou go through in the first chapter?) It's good for Deku to want to rush in and save people without a thought, but what to do in situations where he cannot get lucky and cannot do that without dying? When the 'trouble' he's facing is the very victim themself?

If Decay was naturally occurring, these are questions Heroes must deal with, these are incidents and emergencies Heroes must be ready to face. Hell, these are things parents must be prepared for and have drills and plans set aside if it ends up being their child with such a quirk. (Like, it's awful that Kotarou's instinct when faced with an unexpected and scary quirk being 'whack your son with garden shears' instead of 'calmly assess the situation, remember what the parenting book said about quirk manifestation, and comfort your child'??? And no, I will not take 'Kotarou's just a dick, nvm him' as an answer. It's not about him specifically anymore, I'm talking about what a parent should have done in this situation in general. Because Nao just died! She loved her son and tried to go to him and died!) These are questions society must find solutions for. Otherwise, tragedies will happen; fear sets in; people don't get saved.

BUT as it turns out, Decay is not naturally occurring. AFO created a quirk like this for the ultimate tragedy, meaning tragedies like this don't actually happen. At worst we get Eri's case - her dad disappears but without too much mess, and there's a wind-up time until the next incident, and we even get a visual warning in her horn growth. And thankfully we have Aizawa, an adult, already a licensed Hero, there to keep her in check. And if tragedies like this don't actually happen, that is not a thing Heroes have to lose sleep over. Quirk accident resulting in multiple casualties? A quirk that kills so easily? A quirk that appears in a suffering child and interacts with their background in the worst way? A quirk that would've subjected the holder to a hard and isolating life (largely due to other people's attitudes towards it!) and if Deku's a Hero who wants to save people, what will he do?

Well. Not a thing Deku has to think about. Wasn't real. What a relief.

[honourablejester]

My Top 3 Ravenloft Domains

My three favourite (non-Barovia) Domains of Dread, essentially. With maybe some honourable mentions. Apropos of nothing, I’m just idly rereading some things.

No. 3: Bluetspur

The mind flayer domain. It would get points just because I love cosmic horror, but the thing I actually love most about Bluetspur is that it’s not designed for humans. It’s not a domain you can live in. It’s a domain people get taken to, have horrific things done to them, and then (if they’re lucky) get spat back out of again. It’s alien. A dying world, a vast, tortured, chaotic landscape under a dying red sun, such that even its alien inhabitants, the mind flayers, have to live underground. In, to quote, ‘their ancient metropolis-laboratory’, ruled over by a dying god. It’s not survivable. Not for anyone, not even its god. Bluetspur isn’t a domain you adventure in, it’s a domain that is forced upon you. A domain you have to escape, or rescue someone from, but never, not once, a domain you stay in.

If you’re in the mood for alien abduction, wiped memories, horrific psychic experimentation, incredibly inhospitable environments, and an alien world that is genuinely dying all around you, Bluetspur is worth a look. It’s a fantastic backstory horror to give to inhabitants of other domains, too. Extremely Lovecraftian, think the Plateau of Leng, with some William Hope Hodgson throw in for good measure.

No. 2: Richemulot

The plague domain. Look. Have you played Dishonored? Did you enjoy Dishonored? Would you like to play in an equally plague-infested series of cities ruled over by incredibly corrupt aristocrats who would not remotely balk at using bioweapons on their own people for their own selfish ends? Because if so, Richemulot is the domain for you! The rhythm of the domain is dictated by a rat-borne plague that ebbs and flows but is never successfully eradicated, and it may turn out there’s a reason for that. Navigate the fear, the sickness, the quarantines. Do you intend just to survive, to make it out? Or are your sights set higher, towards the eradication of this ever-present threat?

Look. The Pied Piper of Hamelin was one of my favourite fairytales, and Dishonored is one of my favourite video games. Richemulot is about paranoia, terror and control, the claustrophobia of the quarantine, the horror of corruption. Which, granted, given recent events, might not be what anyone’s in the mood for, but I do enjoy it.

No. 1: Lamordia

The Frankenstein domain. With some other influences mixed in. Lamordia is a fascinating mix of gothic, industrial and environmental horror, with a little bit of nuclear paranoia sprinkled in. An industrial hellscape of cities and universities pinned between a frozen sea and an irradiated mountain range, Lamordia is all mines and factories and broken bodies, relentless and remorseless progress, the flesh blackened and burned (by frostbite or radiation) and fed to the machine. You will be ground down, you will be broken, and you will be remade. Lamordia is a very 19th-to-mid-20th century sort of domain, the horrors of the industrial revolution made manifest. Staked out in a frozen and lethal world, this industrial hub uses science to write its own horrors, as terrible as anything one might find in the wastes. There are iron-clad whaling ships carving through the ice to feed the cities, there are mines where strange ores emit dangerous radiation and mutated monsters roam, there are universities where amoral scientists exploit the poor for experimental subjects, there are vast industries fed by bodies both living and dead. It’s a fantastically evocative setting, and I adore it. Lamordia is easily my favourite domain of dread. If you want a campaign built around bodily autonomy, class conflict, mad science, industrial revolution, worker’s rights, and environmental pressures, this is the domain for you.

(For real, I want to play a campaign where the party’s trying to get a worker’s revolution off the ground in Ludendorf, complicated by the facts that a) without industry the city literally freezes and starves to death, b) it’s hard to maintain morale when the factory bosses can, with the help of the universities and their mysterious backer, literally kill you, rebuild you, and put your corpse back on the assembly line, and c) death is the least worrying fate you could be landed with for trying to shake up the status quo. I don’t know, I feel like that would be an interesting storyline, you know?)

But, yes. Favourite Ravenloft domain, for sure.

Honourable mentions:

Cyre 1313, The Mourning Rail. It’s a haunted train that travels the Mists, fleeing a disaster they don’t realise has already killed them, inhabited by ghosts who don’t realise they’re dead, and a mysterious passenger who damned them all once upon a time. It’s fantastic, no notes.

The Sea of Sorrows. Just. The whole thing. I love nautical horror, we all know this.

Mordent. It’s just a good old-fashioned haunted-house-and-ghostly-moors domain, and I’m a sucker for a classic ghost story.

So, for a summary, I did rather enjoy Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft? Heh. I do like my fantasy (and science fiction) with a generous dash of horror for spice. And Ravenloft has a lot to offer outside of Barovia and Strahd, though of course I’d never knock the OG darklord and his domain.

Pardon the random diversion, and carry on!