#rendering this fabric in such a pose was a NIGHTMARE

[m1nsur0]

[JTTW OC: 翡脆]

孤鸿海上来，池潢不敢顾。

侧见双翠鸟，巢在三珠树。

矫矫珍木巅，得无金丸惧。

美服患人指，高明逼神恶。

今我游冥冥，弋者何所慕。

[cobalt-axolotl]

**Item #:** SCP-XXXX-M7

**Object Class:** Keter

**Special Containment Procedures:**

SCP-XXXX-M7, collectively known as "The Malefactors," is to be contained within seven individual reinforced containment chambers at Site-██. Each chamber is equipped with advanced reality anchors and is isolated from one another to prevent collaborative efforts. Access is restricted to Level 4 personnel and above, with any interaction requiring O5 Council approval.

**Description:**

SCP-XXXX-M7 consists of seven highly evolved instances of SCP-XXXX-1 entities, each emerging from a fusion of intense grief, guilt, and self-loathing. These entities possess advanced reality-bending abilities, presenting a severe threat to both individuals and the fabric of reality.

1. **The Malware Puppeteer:** This entity can manipulate and control the minds of individuals within its proximity. Victims lose autonomy and act according to The Malware Puppeteer's will.

2. **The Clockwork King:** Contact with The Clockwork King induces rapid aging in living organisms. The entity's touch accelerates the aging process, resulting in rapid decay.

3. **With Many Arms:** With Many Arms can create portals to Erebus - The Nightmare, facilitating the ingress of SCP-XXXX-1 entities and intensifying the nightmarish environment.

4. **Gagleon:** Exposure to Gagleon causes extreme psychological distress, leading to paranoia, hallucinations, and eventual insanity in affected individuals.

5. **Nightmare:** This entity alters the perception of environments, making them appear sepia-toned and nightmarish, heightening feelings of fear and unease.

6. **Mathrus:** Mathrus manifests multiple eyes that cover surfaces within its vicinity, believed to possess reality-warping properties influencing the perception of affected individuals.

7. **Venijax:** Venijax has the ability to absorb the consciousness of individuals within a certain radius, rendering them comatose while integrating their consciousness into itself.

The Malefactors exhibit collaborative efforts, enhancing each other's reality-bending effects. The entities appear to be intrinsically linked to the intense emotional states that birthed them, making containment and understanding challenging.

**Addendum XXXX-M7-A: Incident Log XXXX-M7-01**

On [DATE], The Malefactors initiated a coordinated escape attempt, resulting in a temporary reality breach and multiple containment breaches across Site-██. Numerous SCP-XXXX-1 entities entered our reality, causing extensive damage and casualties. Containment protocols for SCP-XXXX-M7 are under urgent review, and research efforts are ongoing to address the evolving threat posed by these entities.

**Note:** The Malefactors present an unprecedented challenge in containment and anomaly management. Research collaboration is essential to develop effective countermeasures and enhance containment protocols to mitigate the escalating threat posed by SCP-XXXX-M7.

**Interview Log - Malcom (PoI-XXXX)**

**Date:** [DATE]

**Location:** Site-██, Interview Room-17

**Interviewer:** Dr. ██████

**Foreword:** The purpose of this interview is to gather information from Malcom regarding SCP-XXXX-M7, "The Malefactors." This interview aims to understand Malcom's perspective on these entities and any potential connections to their origins.

---

**Dr. ██████:** Good [TIME OF DAY], Malcom. I trust you're feeling cooperative today?

**Malcom:** (nonchalantly) Yeah, yeah. What's this about?

**Dr. ██████:** We need to discuss SCP-XXXX-M7, "The Malefactors." Can you shed some light on your connection to these entities?

**Malcom:** (raising an eyebrow) Malefactors, huh? I heard about them. Freaky bunch. What do you want to know?

**Dr. ██████:** They seem to share a connection with you, born from intense emotional states like grief, guilt, and self-loathing. Are you responsible for their existence?

**Malcom:** (smirking) Responsible? No. But they're like my twisted siblings, born from the same messed-up emotions that fuel my powers.

**Dr. ██████:** Have you interacted with The Malefactors? Do you share any common goals or understanding with them?

**Malcom:** (leaning back) Goals? Understanding? (laughs) Nah, doc. I don't need crazy entities running around causing havoc. I hate everything they stand for.

**Dr. ██████:** Hate? Could you elaborate on that?

**Malcom:** (seriously) Look, those Malefactors represent the worst parts of me — the darkness, the chaos. I've got enough on my plate with my own brand of reality-bending. I don't need them making things worse.

**Dr. ██████:** Do you have any insight into how The Malefactors operate? Can you control or influence them?

**Malcom:** (shaking his head) Nope. They're like a twisted mirror, reflecting the ugliness inside. Trying to control them would be like trying to control my own worst impulses. Impossible.

**Dr. ██████:** Do you see The Malefactors as a threat?

**Malcom:** (nodding) Absolutely. They're a wild card, unpredictable and destructive. I want nothing to do with them, and I sure as hell don't want them causing chaos in my name.

**Dr. ██████:** One last question, Malcom. How can we contain or neutralize The Malefactors?

**Malcom:** (leaning forward) You're asking the wrong guy, doc. They're not mine to control. You figure it out, or we're all in for a nightmare.

---

**Conclusion:** Malcom expresses a clear disdain for SCP-XXXX-M7, emphasizing his reluctance to associate with or control The Malefactors. Further research is required to understand the dynamics between Malcom and The Malefactors and develop effective containment strategies for these highly evolved SCP-XXXX-1 instances.

[nightroo]

May or may not have forgotten what I posted here myself months ago so the last post had a few repeats. oops.

Well I know for sure this one won’t because I stopped posting when I started the second semester, which is what this post is about. So the drawing above is the start of working with more complex shapes, using the ones we learned from last semester. This is also where things got interesting, since I could see the potential for architectural drawings.

There are a lot, and I mean A LOT of drawings like these in my sketchbook, I’m gonna show you only the ones I find interesting.

After that we went back a bit for cast shadows, which I have decided are my new mortal enemy in art. A long time ago it was rendering hair, but that’s nothing compared to this.

The amount of calculations you need to do for this and the different formulas for each shape make me wanna rip my hair off. And that’s before getting into more complex shapes.

They're not 100% correct but my teacher said the majority of people won’t notice anything wrong so I shouldn’t worry about it. I won’t until I need it for a personal project, then I’ll get very annoyed again.

After that nightmare I got rewarded with finally using colors to render for the first time!!! I love rendering with colors so I was very excited haha

The copper (right middle sphere) is my absolute favorite, and my teacher really liked it as well.

We also had a small lecture on arrows and ribbons/fabric and we got to render them with colors as well.

For all the colored drawings I used a combination of alcohol markers and colored pencils. The markers melted and blended the pencils and I could use this to mix colors I didn't have. For example, I didn’t have a red marker at all.

After that we had a fun exercise where we needed to either study an object or design our own. The purpose was to use the previous lessons about shapes in perspective, and the rendering of different materials. I went with a gun design, but not just any gun-this one is technically 3 guns, a pistol and an SMG that you can connect and form an assault rifle. So I designed each gun separately (somehow I managed to turn this exercise to designing 3 objects instead of one, leave it to me to make it harder on myself lmao), and thought about how they connect, making sure the chambers kinda align and stuff like that.

I don’t wanna brag but I got the highest grade in the class for this assignment. Mostly because I’m the only one that actually rendered the different materials (or tried to), but also because my teacher liked the idea and thought it was interesting, and something people would actually buy if it was real.

It’s not the best but I literally didn’t have a grey marker so I was pretty limited. I chose a stained-glass theme for some reason, I didn’t want to make it a normal looking gun. The scan made it a bit more contrast-y than it is irl.

After a huge break we came back and had one lesson of silhouettes, something I kinda knew but never went out and made studies of. The challenging part of this was the time limit, at the start we had a minute, but it went down to 30 seconds. We were allowed to go overtime but it wasn't considered good.

On the same lesson, we also had life drawing, using each other as models. We had to get the pose down in one minute, and then take that as a reference for a more detailed drawing. I chose to completely change the context at that point lol

The next lesson was about isometric perspective. I don’t think I’ve actually talked about this here, but I got scammed by a guy who asked me to make him a city island in isometric perspective, then when it came time to pay, he “took a vacation” for two weeks. Came back to tell me he’s definitely gonna pay me. Proceeded to disappear. Anyways I haven’t done isometric from that moment until this lesson, where we were given a prompt word and had to draw an environment following it. I used only colored pencils for this one because I forgot to bring my markers, but it was a nice restriction to only use 12 colors and try to combine them to make the rest. I really enjoyed this one since I got the freedom to make something cool.

(the prompts are top-to-bottom forest, COVID-19, underwater and space) my teacher walked up to my desk to see what I’m doing while I worked on the space one, and he said “you are crazy” every time he passed by. He showed everyone’s work around, and a lot of people liked mine :) The space one is based on a black hole btw, but if it was an eldritch horror.

The last lesson was a time for the teacher to review everyone’s work one by one, so most of the time we were waiting for our turn. He put up a pic of an old camera if any of us wanted to draw it, but I used it as a reference for a building because it reminded me of art deco architecture. After finishing that, I had an idea for a shrine kind of place, inspired by a spot I built for a friend’s minecraft server that we didn’t end up using. And I topped it off with Lykena and Eivrun sketches (that for Eivrun might turn into a full painting when it’s her turn)

The entire year my teacher was occasionally asking me if I’m not getting bored, because we were going through a lot of basics I was obviously proficient at already, but I always found something new to learn, no matter how small, even on topics I practiced a lot before. So I’d say this workshop was very useful for me. And besides, it’s always good to get critiques from a professional, and from people who are interested in art.

[ndanya-qiri-ffxiv]

Waking Up

C’mahji found himself in Raincatcher Gulley - but how? Had he not laid down beneath the stars in Thanalan but moments before? He looked around warily, swiveled his ears to and fro; the jungle around him carried with it the heavy, earthy scent of a fresh rain, but something was off. The shadows danced in ways they shouldn’t. The sounds of animals were muted. He recognized where he was - the edge of his tribe’s territory.

A gust of wind swirled around him suddenly, bringing with it small embers and the smell of burning wood and flesh.

He felt his stomach drop and he began to pick his way through the heavy underbrush. The leaves of the ground foliage left his pants wet, and the tree bark he touched was still damp. The further he traveled toward his tribe, the stronger the smell became, and the more panicked he was.

He burst into a run, ignoring tree branches that seemed to grasp for him. He stumbled over an unseen rock, but continued. Finally, he emerged from the underbrush onto the main path leading to the tribe’s main gathering area. He could see the ebb and flow of oranges and yellows that indicated a burning fire, could smell it - but he heard nothing.

There was only suffocating silence.

His run became more desperate, until he reached the edge of the village and planted his booted feet to stop - only to slide across bloodied dirt. The tribe’s village was there exactly as he remembered it, yet nothing like he had ever seen. Fires had broken out, but did not actually burn the wood that the flames licked at. People were in various states of being, yet did not move.

There, in the middle of the village, was Lefay. But - no - that didn’t make any sense. How could she be here? She didn’t know this place. He had left her at her home after visiting earlier. She wore a beautiful white robe, with gold and red trim. She clasped her hands together in front of her. Flames licked at her robes and skin and hair, but did not burn her. Around her neck she wore a necklace with the symbol of Azeyma.

“Child of Fire,” she spoke, in a voice that was like Lefay’s, but laced with power that made his knees buckle. He felt his blood run cold when she spoke, and began to back toward the way he’d come, only to freeze when he felt a cold hand and sharp, claw-like nails drag lightly over his shoulder. In the next moment, Sanrai had circled in front of him, wearing a smile that was terrifyingly serene.

“Be not afraid, and do not run. It is unbecoming of one who would become a warden, hm?” Lefay reassured, stepping toward him, “You are to be given a Gift tonight. First, you must understand.”

There was a crack of thunder, and then the air to his left began to shimmer and the very fabric of reality appeared to tear for a moment. “From your past, you will begin your lesson. You will see where you failed as such a warden - where the Gift would have aided you.”

The area to his left stopped flickering and shimmering, and he was drawn to look, even before Lefay motioned for him to do so.

To his left, he saw the towering figure of a man standing over a Keeper woman - he knew the memory well, but this was different. They flickered in and out of existence, the shadows dancing around them. C’mahji saw a spear, driven through the Keeper’s belly. He could tell the man was twisting it. Rage and anguish rose in his chest and he turned to take a step toward them.

Quite suddenly, the entire scene shattered like glass - the shards scattered like ash to the wind. He let out a panicked cry, but his attention was drawn to the center of the village again.

“Your first failure is not of your own doing, not precisely. This was but a failing of your tribe. They feared you, and what you stood for,” Lefay took another step toward him.

The air continued to shimmer and shake, and his gaze followed it. Another scene was soon before him, and he turned his dumbstruck eyes to it. A man, which he knew on instinct alone to be a Nunh - frozen in a specific pose like the pair before. The Nunh had a woman by the braids - and was dragging her with ill-intent toward a hut. She was in a pose of resistance, kicking, mouth twisted into a scream, hands wrapped around the man’s wrist.

Then, to the side, there was him - younger, a teen, but tall and strong and capable. There he stood, shame painted on his face, looking away. As before, the scene shattered as soon as it truly registered with him.

“Your second failure is your own,” Lefay said, with another step toward him. “You bore witness to it. But you remained silent. You cowered. It is… unbefitting of a warden. Your past failures color your present, Child of Fire.”

He turned an increasingly shaky and blurry gaze to the center point of the village. There, he was met by a much larger scene. In the middle was a woman - a mother, clearly - cradling a kit, no more than five summers old. Hanging in the air around the woman and child were rocks, clearly having been thrown at the pair. The crowd surrounding them was angry and jeering, with only a few looking sick or afraid.

And the kits eyes glowed - one a bright sky blue, and the other a deep violet.

“Your third failure happens even now. You abandoned those who believed in you. You abandoned those who still had hope for a better -”

“I lost!” C’mahji finally shouted, shaking lightly from head to toe, “I challenged them, I tried - and I lost! I - I followed tribal traditions - I did what - what Azeyma demanded when one lost without honor.”

Lefay stared at him unblinking for a moment, and there was a sudden flare of the flames around her, and a rising temperature. C’mahji took a step back, ears laying tightly to his head against his braids.

“I did not deliver My Word unto you. You knew in your heart the decision was wrong, did you not?”

“I reject your gift,” he finally spaat, suddenly filled with anger and fire, “I don’t want it. You did nothing for me! I prayed to you - and I heard nothing but the birds chirping and the bugs singing in response!”

Lefay tilted her chin downward. The scene behind her and in front of C’mahji shattered.

Then, quite suddenly, Sanrai was in front of him and eye level, floating off the ground to pull off such a feat. She stared into his eyes with a gaze that didn’t quite feel alive - and then she smiled, “Come now, sweet C’mahji. Would you reject such a Gift with half the information?”

He became aware of yet another scene to his right. This one was far different. Sanrai led him to it, grabbing hold of one of his braids gently and guiding him there. She said nothing as she waited for him to take the scene in.

There were a dozen soldiers dead, and another half-dozen hunting dogs. They were non-descript, shadowy aberrations, but they had a very real weight to them. In the middle was Sohkatani Dotharl - and in his head, C’mahji finished the introduction she always gave herself, without a second though. But behind her cowered another man - him.

The scene jumped to life with a suddenness that startled C’mahji. Sohka whirled on him, a weapon in her hand. She shouted at him, in a language he recognized as Xaelic, but he could understand her, ��What is wrong with you?! You cowered! Like a child! No, worse than a child!”

There was a pause where she looked at him, with a blend of anger and disgust and pity, and C’mahji felt his breath catch in his throat all over again. He had not realized how much it would hurt to have such judgement rendered against him, and -

“To think I ever thought of you as a friend, or partner, or warrior,” Sohka added bitterly, and then spat on the ground in front of him.

The scene shattered and Sanrai reached out to pat his cheek, “Your fourth failure is set still into the future. Who knows how far? How long? None can say. But you are on that path, yes?”

“The Gift,” Lefay added, having taken another step toward C’mahji. “Will stoke that Fire in your belly that has fallen dormant. It will allow you to be what you wish, what you have failed to be.”

C’mahji shook his head and tried to take a step back, but Sanrai kept hold of his braid like a leash, and hummed. “Not yet. One more.”

On cue, a final scene manifested. He saw himself, shacked with hands behind his back, and a heavy iron collar around his neck. He was on his knees, and he was being assessed by a rich looking man. He was flanked by two guards, and a shady looking merchant which could only be a slaver. No one’s mouths moved, but C’mahji could guess the conversation. He swallowed hard.

The scene shattered, and C’mahji found himself face to face with Lefay now. The flames that danced around her and over her flesh jumped to him eagerly, but did not burn him. She reached up and rested her hands on either of his cheeks. He did not move.

“Child of Fire, My warden - do you see now?”

He felt himself unable to answer her verbally. He felt numb, from head to toe. Frightened. Finally, he forced himself to nod once - a short, nervous, jerk of a motion.

Lefay smiled a slow, pleased, and entirely predatory smile. “You will remember your Past. You will change your Present. You will prevent your Future. You WILL accept my Gift.”

She leaned up and kissed him, hard and hungry, and he felt fire ignite and bloom inside him…

… and suddenly, he jolted awake with a startled gasp. He was back at camp in Thanalan, drenched in sweat, burning up but shivering from head to toe. The night was calm but not silent. He was still by the stream which he had set up camp by. He was still alone.

He placed his hand over his chest as he tried to catch his breath, to try to steady his shaking. He couldn’t. The images from the nightmare were burned into his brain, replaying over and over. He covered his ears with his hands and rolled onto his side, curling up into a little ball and staring out over the stream, hoping the gentle roar of water would calm him.

But his eyes were drawn to the horizon, where he saw a star that he had always been taught represented Azeyma. He saw it, burning bright in the sky. With a whimper, he closed his eyes tight, and willed it all away.

*****

Tagging due to mentions: @pocket-panda @lefayexplores @sanraibayaqud

[rulystuff]

https://servicemeltdown.com/who-amongst-us-will-stand-on-the-tower/

New Post has been published on https://servicemeltdown.com/who-amongst-us-will-stand-on-the-tower/

WHO AMONGST US WILL STAND ON THE TOWER?

In ancient times, watchmen would stand on a tall stone tower always vigilant to the potential of an approaching danger. The role of the watchman, particularly at harvest time, was important to the survival of a community in agrarian societies. The watchman, in effect an early warning system, was called upon to sound an alarm which could prove crucial in thwarting an attack both from ravenous animals and from malefactors who would rather make off with a neighbor farmer’s fruits and vegetables than to labor and toil in their own fields. In times of war, the role of the watchman was critical in spying potential enemy threats to a town: if a threat appeared, the watchman would blow his horn and the townspeople would rally and prepare for battle. 

In Scripture, the symbolism of the watchman is profound. No less a figure than the 8th century B.C. prophet Isaiah – who prophesied the birth of Christ in Isaiah 7:14 – conveys God’s message to us, “I have posted watchmen on your walls, Jerusalem; they will never be silent day or night. You who call on the Lord, give yourselves no rest,” Isaiah 62:6. In 21st century America we all have a moral duty to serve as watchmen as the nation is presently besieged by enemy forces both foreign and domestic.

GLOBALIZATION: AN ANTI-DEMOCRATIC NIGHTMARE

The current demagoguery in the hands of globalists takes the ugly form that a citizen who believes in national borders and national priorities cannot be a good citizen – that he is a fascist some claim. We need to be reminded that the American revolution was a nationalist uprising which few would call fascist. The current sophistry in the hands of globalists belies that a citizen who is devoted to his homeland and who places the interests of his nation-state as the top priority can exist, at the same time, with a world view that is tolerant and respectful of those beyond his borders. Furthermore, to be respectful of global interests is not to suggest that those who can afford it should be forced to open their pocketbooks to fix all of the world’s ills. That suggestion is impudent and a sleight-of-hand by globalists whose own personal agendas for control stand to be upended by the rights and privileges of sovereign states. Simply stated, globalism is imperialism in sheep’s clothing. What other conclusion is there to be had when an international organization made up of unelected bureaucrats imposes its will on the citizens of member nations? That supranational organizations such as the United Nations, the European Union, the World Trade Organization, the International Monetary Fund, and the World Health Organization are anti-democratic is a statement of fact and not of ideology. The globalization conceit held by leaders in and out of government around the world and in the United States should sound an alarm to those who believe in the sanctity of democratic processes. Put simply, globalization and democracy are hardly fraternal twins. Globalists believe that globalization’s ugly side, lower wages, lost jobs, shuttered factories or devastated communities is the result of there not being enough global governance to channel all of the good that derives from globalization. And besides, globalists say, any discomfort is strictly temporary. As Mr. Pascal Lamy, former Director of the World Trade Organization said in a recent address, “The future lies with more globalization, not less…”

AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM IS A TARGET FOR HOSTILE NATIONS

We have witnessed the onslaught visited upon our shores by the Chinese Communist Virus which at last count had extinguished the lives of two-hundred thousand innocent Americans and for which China takes no responsibility despite having its fingerprints all over the heinous act. Meanwhile, China’s propaganda machine is working full-throttle in our schools and universities. Over one hundred Confucius Institutes – incongruously named as Confucius was a man who preached humaneness – are now operating in our country for the ostensible purpose of disseminating Chinese language, history, and cultural instruction. Colleges have taken in huge sums of money over the years from the Communist regime with the proviso that all discussion and instruction toe the Chinese propaganda line. In the end, that means subjects like the human right abuses of over a million Uighurs and other ethnic minorities in Xinjiang, or the independence of Taiwan and Tibet are off limits. Only recently did the State Department deem the Institutes propaganda missions which means they will have to adhere to the same restrictions as diplomatic embassies. This action by the United States is welcome news but comes rather belatedly given that Li Changchun, a member of the Politburo, said back in 2009 that the Institutes “are an important part of China’s overseas propaganda set-up.” On the commercial front, China purloins roughly $225 billion, at the low end and as much as $600 billion at the high end, annually in counterfeit goods, pirated software, and theft of trade secrets from the United States. Militarily, America faces a serious threat in the South China Sea where it is being challenged by a territorially aggressive and technologically advanced Chinese Navy. Rogue nations such as North Korea and Iran pose further threats to peace and prosperity led as those regimes are by unbalanced tyrannical dictators.

AMERICA’S DEMOCRATIC VALUES AND BELIEFS ARE UNDER ATTACK FROM WITHIN

The nation has literally been set ablaze by malcontents who would rather settle their philosophical differences not with ballots but with bullets. On the whole, this is the most insidious threat to the democratic ideals of our nation as these forces amount to a fifth-column enemy which has infiltrated our schools, our courts, our churches, all manner of political institutions, and the media. The cultural relativism which now pervades our institutions suggests that no ethical or moral value is superior to any other and so as we see in our contemporary society anything goes:

The teaching of history, language, law, culture and science particularly in the early school grades is now subject to disinformation, myth, and propaganda like never before courtesy of the “knowledge elites” with their own less than charitable axes to grind.

The muzzling both figuratively as well as physically of opposing points of view via the corrosive and regressive practice of “cancel culture” on college campuses renders those institutions little more than very expensive echo chambers.

Looting and rioting is now seen by members of fringe groups such as Black Lives Matter and Antifa as a legitimate compensatory action to right perceived civil wrongs. Sadly, many local political leaders across the nation are either in league with the rioters or choose to look the other way.

Judicial activism which compels judges who feel it their duty to go beyond the law as written and to interpret it as they see fit countermands the judgment of elected legislators and sets up the courts as super-legislatures.

Sermonizing by certain church fathers on the ills of “white privilege,” wealth, and physical fences while abrogating their responsibility to convey the church’s catechism to their flocks does serious disservice to parishioners seeking spiritual and not political guidance.

Proselytizing by political leaders on the Left that Socialism is in the best interest of the nation. These same demagogues, of course, fail to mention that the socialist experiment has only led to environmental despoliation, starvation, the demise of entrepreneurial initiative, and the spread of a welfare mentality. Rest assured, proponents of Socialism are not able to cite one historical antecedent where the egoism and presumed “wisdom” of central know-it-alls were an able substitute for the actions of countless sovereign consumers and producers operating in a free-market society.

The societal maelstrom, if not gradual dissolution, we are experiencing in our nation is fueled first and foremost by media elites who have the power and the means to filter information and package it so that it satisfies their agenda objectives without regards to the truth or fact. The mainstream media monopolies in Los Angeles, New York and Washington set the table for what most unwary Americans consume as unvarnished factual “information.” Not to be outdone, the oligarchs who control social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and Google choose what content and what voices they will police so long as they are in keeping with their own preferences and biases.

WE MUST ALL BECOME WATCHMEN ON THE TOWER

The defense of America comes easily to those who are united by the uniquely American principles of liberty, democracy, equality of opportunity, the rule of law, individual choice, and the sanctity of private property. Citizens who fail to grasp these “self-evident” truths owe it to themselves to undertake self-study, if not self-examination, to reaffirm that the American Dream is indeed not a slogan but a unique experiment that can only be realized in our great nation. Now, more than at any other time in our history, Americans need to hone their critical thinking skills so as to question the sources, facts, data, and research thrown at them for the explicit purpose of besmirching the American Dream.

The assaults which threaten the constitutional, cultural, and democratic fabric of America demand that we as citizens stand watch day and night. We must all stand tall on the watch tower and sound the horn so as to rally our fellow citizens as we prepare for battle.

[rememberwhenweweresuchfools]

You Visit Me In My Sleep

*’Come on, Ellie Bee, it’ll be fun, I promise.” The words were light and airy, almost ethereal as they drifted to my ears and I couldn’t help but smile at the familiar voice. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the declaration, nor would it be the last, but that was Audrey for you. My big sister was always making grand plans and sweeping declarations, and even when she couldn’t follow through on them fully, there was always something of them in whatever the inevitable outcome was. I followed the sound of her voice through the crowd, the flashing lights and writhing bodies posing much more of a challenge that I had thought as they moved in tandem to the heavy, almost painfully loud music that blasted overhead. I could see her, at least I thought, long blonde hair shot through with streaks of eye-searing green that glowed under the blacklights weaving back and forth through the seemingly impenetrable crush of bodies. The music grew louder, shaking me to my very bones; it was a song I knew but couldn’t place, the haunting vocals seemingly at odds with the frantic techno beat, a snippet of words here and a phrase there. I knew it, somehow, but the title, even the artist, escaped me. It was of little concern as I pushed along, shoving pointlessly with tiny, ineffective hands that may very well have been pushing against a granite wall for all the good it was doing. I had spent more nights than were probably healthy bouncing around in the pits at rock shows in dive bars with Audrey far before I was legal, but all of my learned tricks and tactics seemed to be failing me now as my sister wove out of my sight, vanishing into the deep, velvet blackness on the other side. I was small, a fact that occasionally came in handy, and I dropped my head as I pushed and shoved as best as I could, forcing a path as best as I could. It seemed never ending, the crush of bodies and the almost blistering heat that they seemed to give off, and when I finally shoved through the far side, stumbling into the dark wall, I had to take a deep breath as my senses adjusted from the overload. Somehow, heard the click of a door and looked up just in time to see green-streaked blond swinging just before it closed. Blowing out a long breath, I pushed off the wall and headed out, following Audrey as close as I could which, honestly, was not at all. She was fast, always had been, and the darkness had always been her home. The air in the alley was cold and fetid at the same time, sending a shiver down my spine even as my stomach churned. I ran my hands up and down my bare arms as I walked towards the dim streetlights that seemed to glitter off of the puddles that had formed on the cracked asphalt. Where the hell was she? “Ellie Bee…” I felt her presence before she spoke and I knew, somehow, that something was wrong. Her voice was cracked and dry, there was no trace of the laughter or light that I’d always associated with her while I was growing up; before things got bad. She had faded, going from neon colors and impossible strength to a fragile, broken caricature of who she was; my hero rendered helpless from a cocktail of booze and pills. If she kept going at this breakneck pace, she was going to crash and burn if I couldn’t stop her. There was still time though, there was always time. My footfalls were loud in the silence of the night, the smack of rubber against wet asphalt ringing in my ears as I broke into a run, a flash of golden hair illuminated by the streetlights. My gaze was focused on the image that seemed to almost flicker in front of me and so I didn’t see the object that I tripped over, merely a flash of white just instants before I toppled to the ground. It was cold and wet, the pavement cracking and cutting into my palms as I stupidly held them out in front of me to catch my fall. The sudden flare of pain in my left wrist was easily ignored for the moment as I pushed myself up from the slushy puddle I’d landed in, the ends of my long, blonde hair floating in the murk. Shaking to clear my cloudy vision, I pushed myself upright to blink down at what I’d tripped on. Pale white, gleaming in the moonlight, a slight give, just the merest hint of warmth… A person. I’d tripped over a person. My stomach dropped as insidious thoughts crept into my mind far faster than I could push them out. No. Nope. it could be anyone, literally, anyone in the entire world… and then I saw it, tiny and stark against rapidly cooking skin. The bee was small, not even an inch across, and wearing a mask, just on the inside of a delicate wrist. Audrey. The body lying in the alley, still and cold, was my sister. Her eyes, once such a vibrant, sparkling blue were glazed as they stared off into the endless nothingness above and fine cracks formed on her skin as though she were a doll that had been cast aside when her owner got too old, carelessly left to break. She looked like one too; delicate skin far too pale, hair in a green striped halo around her head and her eyes… deep blue, once bright and twinkling with mirth, were vacant and dull, lifeless. Lifeless. I wanted to cry, to scream or throw something but my words trapped themselves in my throat, sticky and viscous. All I could do was watch, helpless in the moonlight as the cracks deepened and she began to crumble into ash, her cold hands somehow tightening on my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as I fought against the seemingly endless strength of the thing that had been my sister, a desperate cry finally breaking the silence.* * The scream that shattered the silence wasn’t from Audrey… it was from me and the hands that were on my shoulders were strong and gentle, far too large for Audrey, even if she could have held me down. I fought against the grip, my eyes squeezed shut as tightly as I could as I clung to the last vestiges of sleep desperately trying to hold on to the moments, however terrifying that they were, which brought back something I lost. My throat was raw from screaming and it wasn’t until a pair of strong arms wrapped around my shoulders and I was tugged gently back against a warm, somehow familiar body that I stopped fighting, stilling at the quiet almost soothing words that finally broke through my panic. “ El, come on Sweetheart. Ellery, it was just a dream. I promise, it was just a dream. You’re okay.”The voice was warm and low, safe in some way that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Phoenix. Shit. Finally opening my eyes, I blinked at the sting of salty tears mixed with eyelash glue and gave silent praise to the make-up artists as I swallowed thickly, my throat parched.* I’m sorry. *My voice was scratchy and broken as I managed to speak and I squirmed in a vain attempt to get comfortable despite the layers of thick, stiff fabric. “Nix laughed and pressed a kiss against the top of my head. Or at least what would be the top of my head under all of the fake hair that had been sewn in. “No apologies. But you are buying me coffee when we get off in the morning, okay? You keep sleeping on my couch and I get stuck up all night.” My laugh was quiet but there, a sign that all wasn’t quite as lost as it could have been. Despite the nightmare rapidly vanishing from my actual memory, the image of Audrey’s eyes, blank and empty…. That hadn’t been a dream, as much as I had wished that it was. “You wanna talk about it, B?” The endearment was quiet, and one that nobody else could get away with using. I did, I really, really did, but I couldn’t, not now and absolutely not with Phoenix. Discussing your personal tragedies with a studio executive was not exactly looked highly upon. Shoving the blackness back into the box that I kept it locked in, in the darkest corners of my mind, I shook my head as if the motion would help.* No, no, I promise I’m okay. It was nothing but a dream. But thank you. I appreciate it more than I can say. And that goes for the couch too. I don’t know if you have ever tried to sleep in a corset and a bunch of fake hair but the shitty trailer couched just don’t work. *Grinning, I sat up slowly, stretching before standing and winking at the baby-faced ginger still sitting on the couch, hair rumpled and his head missing his customary hat. “You know, B, I haven’t recently so I’ll just take your word for it.” Even in the low light of the office, I could see Nix’s eyes gleaming with mischief, despite the exceeding late, or was it early hour. I opened my mouth to reply but a burst of static and a call to set cut through the comfortable silence. Wrinkling my nose, I glared at the walkie-talkie, sticking my tongue out for good measure and earning a delighted laugh from my companion. “ That’ll show ‘em. Come on Lady B, time is money and for some reason they put me in charge of keeping that to a minimum. Race you to the golf cart.” I didn’t have time to reply before he was gone, vanishing down the hall before I could even gather my skirts.* Cheater! *The word echoed down the hall, tinkling with laughter as I followed behind him to head back to work, the nightmare forgotten, even though haunted blue eyes lingered in my thoughts.* #YouVisitMeInMySleep #DontLetMeGetMe