#Of all the places to protest at this scale. The White House???

[rotzaprachim]

the unhinged thing is that at this point mainstream polling indicates that a ceasefire is actually a broadly supported stance even among American young people, American Jews - esp the ones at major universities - and the Israeli public but that the general young American public sympathizes with Israeli civilians far more then they do with Hamas so if the campus prot are had just made a sharp anti war no more bombs no more guns Biden we’re calling for peace now! Kind of movement and hacked a tschaynik outside their senators houses this entire thing would have been supported by now and the actual thing that matters - unconditioned weapons transfer to the state of Israel, which is controlled by the government and not universities - a topic of serious discussion. Maybe it’s too *centrist* for some but stopping a war matters more then ideological purity and they managed to take a broadly supported movement and make it fringe, in part by casting themselves as embattled heroic martyrs over a movement they themselves deemed fringe

[shapard]

Albino Snake🐍

Lucifer x Human!fem!reader

Alastor kinda reminds me of Dr. Facilier

A/n: I want to cry. I accidentally posted this🥲

You found a cute little albino snake. You named him Apple.

Soft Lucifer

Part 1 > Part 2

You love your home New Orleans.

The streets are filled with jazz and Happy people dancing around. It brought a smile up of your face.

It’s been so long when the streets were this filled. A big number of murders started to rise in New Orleans. Everybody stayed at home, especially you. 

News spread quickly that the Series Killer got killed by a hunter. The Hunter thought he was a deer and gave him a shot right in the middle of his skull.

The days that were cold and dull started to gain color again. And your live just became more stressful. 

Back to two jobs and a small apartment.

You worked in two Restaurants only to fulfill your dream. You want to live that dream you and you father talked about from morning to dawn. Sadly, he’ll not be able to see you reach this dream.

You’re almost there, just a couple more shifts. Just a few weeks of hard work.

You groaned when your alarm clock started ringing in your ear. Exhausted you pressed your hand onto the alarm.

You yawned and stretched your body; a small cracking sound emits from your bone, and you sigh in relief. 

“Next shift here I come!” 

As usual people side eyed you when you past them with a tray of food. Working in gastronomy is hard.

Terrible chef, terrible co-workers and even worse the customers. Your chief always tormented you that you'll never reach that dream. That it was useless. You are born poor and you stay poor, especially for a woman.

But that never lets you down. Then you'll be the first woman who'll reach the top without marrying off to a rich man.

The ring bell tuned, and your rich friend Charlotte and her father walked happily into the small business.

Charlotte smiled brightly at you when she saw you. “Y/n! There you are! I have an important question to ask you.” You laughed softly at her antics. she always was always so outgoing and a bright soul. 

“Of course.” Charlotte squealed and was quick to grab her father's purse. “Do you think you can make some beignets? You’ll get paid off, of course.” Without even waiting for your answer, she pushed couple hundred dollars into your chest and ran out of the store without even touching the beignets. 

Charlotte already paid and it wasn't rare that this happens. All your attention was now on the money in your hand. 

With this money it’s more than enough to buy the restaurant you and your father always dreamed about.

Soft tears pearled down on your face and your boss mouth was wide open in shock. “Huh… Wait… WHAT?!” 

When you shift was done you were quick to make a visit to the former sugar farmhouse.

The house was pretty worn down but that didn’t hold you back. You swung around the house humming a soft tune as you imagined how the place will look in the future.

"I'm almost there~..."

A soft clink echoed through the hollow place, bringing you back to reality. Scared you looked around you. Maybe a mouse?

Following the clinking sound, you saw a small snake hurt in a water cup. The snake looked up to you with soft red eyes. The white scales reminded you of pure untouched snow.

The snake was probably an albino. 

You spread out your hand and took the little injured creator in your hand. Your heart swelled when the little snake slithered up to your wrist embracing it softly.

Its red eyes never left yours and you patted his head slightly. 

The Snake watches as you walked stressed out up and down through your little room. A small bandage adorned its little tummy and a small bow tie was around his head. 

To say he was embarrassed was an understatement. But the way how happy you applied the little bowtie on his head was giving him pure joy. So, he didn't protest.

When you finally looked at the small clock that was on your room wall you gasp at the time. You grabbed your little purse and the beignets for the little costume party.

Theme: Kingdom.

The snake you named apple slithered up to your neck. It looked like a designer necklace, and you loved it. 

You stood unmoving in one of the stands from the party. The landlord of the place where you found him was informing you that someone pays way more than you do.

Your whole body feels like it's going to crumble. You were so close to that dream. You were so close to making your father proud.

All those years for nothing?

Apple looked up to you and he saw the face of pure despair and sadness. His heart broke when you ran towards the landlord in despair. Tears were pouring down your face as you shouted the landlord’s name. 

You were close to a panic attack. Apple rested softly on your neck like a scarf. He tried to comfort you in any way.

A woman with a wine glass in her hand accidentally pours the wine onto your dress and Apple hissed at the sudden wetness.

When you turned to look for the landlord he was nowhere to be found. And for the first time you really felt defeated.

Your legs under you gave up and everything around you started to mix in one black hole.

Charlotte hugged you from behind when she saw your broken state. Charlotte dragged you along with her when she looked at the damage on your dress. 

She gave you a new dress your mother had designed for her.

A gorgeous flowing dress that beats every physics. A little Tiana was on your head and the color matched perfect with your skin color. 

Apple watched with an immense blush on his scales.

You look so pretty in this dress. 

You plumped softly onto the bed where apple was laying. He laid under your chin cuddling into your heat. "Oh Apple. I don't know what to do." You whined as soon as those words left you.

“I can help.” As soon as you heard Apple talk you shot up, falling with full force onto the hard floor. 

Red mist covered the whole room and in front of you stood a man with white skin, red eyes and royalty looking clothes.

His smirk was large, and he held an apple cane in one of his hand. “Do you trust me princess?”

A/n: I'm obsessed with Tyla's new album.

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete

Taglist

[dailyanarchistposts]

The 1979 Revolution

In 1977, after years of political stifling, dissent began building that would soon pierce the wall. In May, a number of prominent judges, intellectuals and liberal opposition figures began publishing a series of open letters to high level ministers decrying problems in society, highlighting violations of the 1906 constitution. A month later, and again in August, the government attempted to forcefully evacuate the shantytowns of Tehran. On both occasions, the fierce resistance of residents forced the government to call off their plans. In October, writers and poets organized a series of readings at the Goethe Institute in Tehran. Over ten days the readings continued to grow, taking on a definite political character. At their peak these readings drew crowds of up to fifteen thousand, with some nights ending in clashes with the police.[17]

That year the Shah made an official visit to Washington, with much fanfare from the Carter administration. The event at the White House was met outside by a large student demonstration. Confrontations between pro- and anti-Shah demonstrators turned violent. While the Shah and Carter were meeting with guests, teargas deployed by police wafted onto the lawn of the White House. Guests wiped their eyes amid the tumult outside, in full view of the media.

Back in Iran, student strikes and demonstrations on university campuses were increasing in momentum and frequency, so much so that by the end of 1977 almost all of the universities had been shut down or were unable to properly function. Strikes in various industries were increasing, but at this point still centered on economic demands concerning particular grievances, rather than more general political demands. In spite of all of these events, it was still not clear to most observers that the regime was in severe crisis, or that the country stood on the verge of a revolution. On New Year’s Eve 1977, President Carter came to Iran, where he was treated to a lavish dinner hosted by the Shah and televised across the nation. Carter offered a toast to the Shah, declaring Iran to be “an island of stability in one of the more troubled areas of the world.”

In January 1978, a semi-official newspaper published a scandalous article accusing Khomeini (who was still exiled in Iraq) of being a British agent, among other things. Seminarians and theology students responded with mass demonstrations in Qom. The demonstrations turned violent, and a number of demonstrators were killed by troops, instigating a further wave of demonstrations led by the clergy after the traditional forty-day cycle of mourning. Each time a demonstrator was killed, after the forty days was up, their death would be marked with another demonstration; if during that demonstration another demonstrator was killed, there would be another demonstration after forty days, and so on. This dynamic helped push the religious opposition to the forefront of the struggle.

On February 18th, 1978 a mass demonstration in Tabriz descended into a riot. Government buildings and other symbols of the regime were attacked, marking a definite escalation on the part of the popular opposition. Within a month, mass demonstrations and riots had spread to over fifty cities. Attempting to appease the protesters, the Shah promised free elections and appointed a new prime minister pledging more reforms.

Meanwhile, in response to these events, workers’ strikes began to take on a more political character. In August, a strike wave broke out in solidarity with the struggles taking place across the country. Many important industrial centers took part, and the wave rapidly gained momentum, eventually becoming a mass strike that would encompass the whole country. Attempting to quell the strikes, the government promised pay raises, benefits, and revisions to the labor law, but the situation had swelled past the point of return. The demonstrations continued to spread geographically, increasing in scale.

Finally, on September 7, 1978, martial law was declared in Tehran and eleven other cities. In violation of the order, a demonstration took place in Tehran’s Jaleh Square the following day. Troops opened fire on the demonstrators, and over eighty people were killed. The day became known as “Black Friday,” and marked another dramatic turning point for the revolution. However, instead of being intimidated, opposition to the regime only increased. The following day strikes spread to the oil industry, the linchpin of the Iranian economy. This entry of the oil workers into the strike wave was a severe blow to the state. Over the course of September, industrial action spread from refinery to refinery, as well as to other factories and industries. By the end of the month, the rolling waves of mass strikes had coalesced into a general strike, and the entire economy had been brought to a standstill.

In the hopes of restoring order, in November the Shah appointed a new military government, whose soldiers attempted to force the oil workers back to work. This worked for a brief moment, although those forced back to work by the barrel of a gun still succeeded in slowing down and sabotaging the works. Ultimately, however, the force of the army was no match for the collective refusal of the working class, and in December, the military government collapsed.

Next, the Shah attempted to form a civilian government with Shapour Bakhtiar — a leader of the National Front, longtime opposition activist, and former political prisoner — at its head. Bakhtiar accepted the proposal, and was immediately expelled from the National Front, who at this point had thrown their support behind Khomeini.

By this point, demonstrators numbered in the millions, and troops had begun crossing over to the other side, many of them being conscripts from poor families. The military leaders were finding it increasingly difficult to shore up obedience and maintain morale.

Finally, on January 16, 1979, Muhammad Reza Pahlavi, the Shah of Iran, fled the country for the second time, hoping that the military and Bakhtiar’s government would be able to restore order. But history does not often repeat itself, and events would not play out as they had in 1953.

When Ayatollah Khomeini returned from exile on February 1, 1979, he was greeted by massive crowds. He declared the Bakhtiar government illegitimate and appointed a provisional government consisting of members of the liberal nationalist opposition.[18] At this point, the country was in a situation of dual power: there was the government of Bakhtiar, and that of Bazargan. Ayatollah Khomeini now appeared as the de facto leader of the revolution.

On February 9, 1979, after more than a year of demonstrations, strikes, and riots, a full-scale insurrection broke out. The spark was provided by a mutiny at the air force base in Tehran, when cadets declared their support for the revolution against their commanding officers. The elite Imperial Guard, the famous “Immortals,” quickly attacked the base, attempting to restore order. Word spread, and guerilla groups sprung into action, rushing to fight the Imperial Guard. The action spread into the neighboring town and to other cities. Police stations and military barracks were raided, their weapons distributed to the people. As the police and military units were successively defeated, barricades were erected throughout the city. Government buildings, television and radio stations were all occupied. Prisons were attacked, and political prisoners carried out like heroes on the shoulders of crowds. Seeing that Bakhtiar’s government was a lost cause, the top military generals declared their neutrality, asking those soldiers still loyal to them to return to their barracks. On February 11, 1979, Tehran radio announced the victory of the revolution.

[dangerprone2000]

Hey guys! How’s it going?

Here I come again with the second chapter of my Fraphne fic ( that by the way it does not have a title yet. I know, Shame on me.)

I'm thinking about uploading it on some fanfiction platform, but in the meantime…

Here you guys have chapter two! I hope you enjoy it💗

Chapter 2.

Daphne was resting in the dining room of her house, after stirring the food on her plate a little, she retired without eating almost anything.

After last night's conversation, she didn't understand how she could eat again.

She decided she was going to Fred's house when she received an emergency text.

“We have to talk” it reads, and she knew exactly what it meant.

***

Daphne stared at the police cars outside of Fred's house, his father, the mayor, was probably in a meeting.

The limo disappeared behind her, as she walked deeper into the lion's den, to find a scene full of officers, who could probably see through her, the blame in her swollen eyes.

That same morning Amanda's parents identified the body. While Daphne was at school, the terrible news had spread that the Becks had gone to the morgue, and although there was not much left to identify, the body was dressed in the clothes in which Amanda was last seen with: her blue hoody and white boots.

A gold watch, an old family heirloom, had also served to recognize her body.

Her corpse came to Daphne's mind, since Amanda's death it seemed that several of her classmates used to know her as the sweet daughter of the strange Beck family. It was said that her parents were strict: They did not allow her to have a boyfriend, or her own place, and those news had spread like wildfire in the town, as had the news of her death. She was a submissive type of girl so she stayed on their house and obeyed without protest.

A golden child, who was now found dead.

Many kids came that same day to leave flowers and stuffed animals in front of her house, but no one seemed to have photos, or any other memories of her... Amanda had died without leaving evidence that she had ever lived, and Daphne barely remembered her face.

She entered the house, politely greeting the group of people gathered in the living room and went upstairs.

“Open doors Frederick” yelled Mr. Jones as she went in.

Fred's room was very clean and tidy, every little thing was in its place, small Lego constructions were displayed on shelves, with scale models of traps that he had built, or he longed to build, and lots of magazines piled on bookcases.

Fred was fidgeting with a screw, lying on his bed when she opened the door, leaving a careful distance between the door and its frame, knowing that they were alone, and Mr. Jones already made an exception on his “Girl friends are not allowed in your rooms” rule.

It seemed that he really didn’t want them downstairs, meddling around.

“Shh” he dragged a finger to his mouth, attracting the attention to his lips. “If you are quiet enough you can hear them talking.”

Daphne felt a spark of embarrassment flushing down her cheeks, how was she capable of feeling such a dumb thing in a situation like that.

Their gazes met for a second, making her heart race.

Fred really didn't understand why his mind went blank when he looked at her, why did he dream of her. How Every night under his sheets, his mind wandered to her hands touching his skin, her fingers going down his chest, her lips kissing his jaw.

But There was no point on feedings those thoughts towards her, after all, all they produced was a nervous sweat, and for him to start freaking out.

He forced a smile, trying to avoid her gaze.

The officers were surprised at how cold Amanda's parents were, and the ease with which they took the news; her mother had not even cried for her. Not shed a single tear.

“…No enemies, no boyfriends, little friends and no reasons to flee either.”

“The parents didn't dial 911 when she first disappeared, they reported her disappearance directly to the sheriff's office,” said Mr. Jones.

“They said that one day they got up and she had simply disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed her.”

“Any suspects?” One of them asked.

“Not yet, I mean, apart from the parents. We also found some P-metric tire tracks, near the swamp where the body was found, but We can’t piece together any scenarios yet…”

They remained silent, listening to other irrelevant details for what seemed like hours, until noticing movements outside the window, the police officers finally leaving the Jones mansion, with little more than a glass of cognac and a couple of hasty conclusions to draw, leaving Fred certain that by themselves, they would never be able to solve the case. In a couple years the case would be cold and forgotten, although he didn't know if that relieved him, or worried him.

The parents were questioned that same afternoon, but there was still no approximate time of death yet, to determine whether an alibi was solid or not. According to them, Amanda had disappeared on Tuesday around three in the afternoon, while she was supposed to be running errands.

“An autopsy report is being conducted tonight” Fred muttered, giving her a shrug as they watched the police cars disappear in the darkness. “I have been hearing them the whole afternoon.”

Daphne shuddered.

“What else do you know?”

“Joshua and Jessica Beck did not report Amanda's disappearance to Sheriff Bronson until Thursday.”

“And why weren't they asking about their daughter whereabouts?”

“Exactly.” “Maybe she had drug problems. I heard she was almost expelled from school a couple years ago, when she was working with a local Candyman to save up some money and run away from her family. “It was a huge deal back then.”

Daphne hesitated “how do you know about all of this.”

“Well, uh, I- I used to think she was… um, pretty, so I kind of followed her around.”

“So… you had a crush on the pretty girl, huh?”

Fred’s checks burned with indignation“That was like, many years ago.” “As the years passed, my interest became really mild.”

“Oh, but you still checked on her from time to time, didn't you?”

“I didn't!” he cut. “I just bumped into her by accident a couple weeks ago while we were in the market investigating about the ghost clown!”

She frowned, remembering sudden details of the conversation “Freddie, what if the tire tracks are ours?” “What if they are after us.”

He shook his head.

“They are going to investigate the parents first, and everyone who was close to her. Close friends, family, neighbors... would probably seek a search warrant, search for evidence in your home and surrounding areas, at the same time as they search for evidence at the scene."

Tension built in the air of the room.

“This is so sad” she lamented, getting up to clear her thoughts “we have a lot of evidence pointing out to nowhere and I just can't get that image out of my mind” Daphne said, wrapping her arms around herself. “And I don't think I can live with what we did to her either.”

“Honestly, me neither”

She sat next to him, her knees accidentally bumping. “We must solve this, Freddie.” “The problem is I don’t even know where to start.”

Fred shuffled onto his seat, trying to dissipate the tension accumulated in his muscles.

“What if the witches did it, Daph? What if she was getting involved with a guy, watching him in the woods, to keep it secret from her parents, that if she offended them? You know that she is not the first girl to disappear in that exact same place. Matilda Jonhson and Lauren Oliver disappeared there too about sixty years ago. "

“Amanda is the first one to be found though.”

“I don't know, Daph, at this point any of these makes sense.”

“Do you really think that’s an actual possibility?”

“Maybe. I don't know. It’s usually Velma the one who draws the conclusions.”

“I don't think we should get her involved. None of them”

Daphne agreed.

“And what are we going to do?”

“We are going to investigate. “Tomorrow after school, we will pay a visit to the morgue.”

After all, it seemed that once again, they had a mystery on their hands.

[tomorrowusa]

The apologists for Putin's Russia – both Trumpsters and tankies – say that Ukraine must "negotiate" an end of Putin's illegal invasion.

Those folks are either oblivious to Russia's recent history of negotiations or are intentionally ignoring that history for political reasons.

In the years leading up to Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, diplomats lost their authority, their role reduced to echoing the Kremlin's aggressive rhetoric. BBC Russian asks former diplomats, as well as ex-Kremlin and White House insiders, how Russian diplomacy broke down.

This was four month's before the invasion.

In October 2021, US Undersecretary of State Victoria Nuland went to a meeting at the Russian foreign ministry in Moscow. The man across the table was Russia's Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Ryabkov, who Ms Nuland had known for decades and always got along with. Mr Rybakov's American counterparts saw him as a practical, calm negotiator - someone they could talk to even as the two countries' relationship frayed. This time, things were different. Mr Ryabkov read Moscow's official position from a piece of paper and resisted Ms Nuland's attempts to start a discussion. Ms Nuland was shocked, according to two people who discussed the incident with her. She described Mr Ryabkov and one of his colleagues as "robots with papers", the people said (the State Department declined to comment on the incident). And outside the negotiating room, Russian diplomats were using increasingly undiplomatic language. "We spit on Western sanctions." "Let me speak. Otherwise, you will really hear what Russian Grad missiles are capable of." "Morons" - preceded by an expletive. These are all quotes from people in positions of authority at the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs in recent years.

If you are thinking that this doesn't sound like serious negotiating, you are entirely correct.

This attitude didn't begin in 2021, it's been ongoing since at least 2007.

The first signal that a new Cold War was beginning came in 2007 with a speech Mr Putin made to the Munich Security Conference. In a 30-minute diatribe, he accused Western countries of attempting to build a unipolar world. Russia's diplomats followed his lead. A year later, when Russia invaded Georgia, Moscow's Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov reportedly swore at his UK counterpart, David Miliband, asking: "Who are you to lecture me?" Western officials still thought it was worth trying to work with Russia. In 2009, Mr Lavrov and the then-US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton pressed a giant red "reset button" in relations, and the two countries seemed to be building co-operation - especially on security issues. But it soon became obvious to US officials that their Russian counterparts were simply parroting Mr Putin's growing anti-Western views, says Ben Rhodes, deputy national security advisor to former US President Barack Obama. Mr Rhodes recalls President Obama having breakfast with Mr Putin in 2009, accompanied by a folk orchestra. He says Mr Putin was more interested in presenting his view of the world than discussing co-operation and that the Russian leader blamed Mr Obama's predecessor, George W Bush, for betraying Russia. As the Arab Spring, the US involvement in Libya, and the Russian street protests unfolded in 2011 and 2012, Mr Putin decided that diplomacy wouldn't get him anywhere, Mr Rhodes says. "On certain issues - Ukraine in particular - I did not get the sense that [diplomats] had much influence at all," says Mr Rhodes.

The arrival of Maria Zakharova as spokesperson for Russia's Foreign Ministry in 2015 signaled another deterioration in diplomacy.

[W]ith Ms Zakharova's arrival, foreign ministry briefings became a spectacle. Ms Zakharova often yelled at reporters who asked her difficult questions and responded to criticism from other countries with insults. Her diplomatic colleagues were going the same way. Mr [Boris] Bondarev, who used to work for Moscow's mission to the UN in Geneva, recalls one meeting where Russia blocked all proposed initiatives, prompting colleagues from Switzerland to complain. "We said to them: 'Well, what's the problem? We are a great power, and you are just Switzerland!' "That's [Russian] diplomacy for you," he says.

Getting back to the eve of the invasion. (emphasis added)

Mr Bondarev recalls a dinner in Geneva in January 2022 when Mr Ryabkov, from the foreign ministry, met US officials. US First Deputy Secretary of State Wendy Sherman hoped to avert the invasion of Ukraine through 11th-hour negotiations. "It was awful," says Mr Bondarev. "The Americans were like, 'Let's negotiate.' And instead Ryabkov starts shouting, 'We need Ukraine! We won't go anywhere without Ukraine! Take all your stuff and go back to the 1997 [Nato] borders!' Sherman is an iron lady, but I think even her jaw dropped at this. "[Ryabkov] was always very polite and really nice to talk to. And now he's banging his fist on the table and talking nonsense."

The war hasn't changed things.

Ukrainian authorities complain that Russia is once again offering ultimatums instead of compromises, such as demanding that Ukraine accepts the annexation of occupied territories. Kyiv has no intention to negotiate under such conditions, and its Western allies publicly support this decision. Russia seems set on relying on its military machine, intelligence services and geo-economic power for influence - rather than diplomacy.

Some people won't like hearing this, but the only way to end this war is militarily.

Judy Dempsey is a nonresident senior fellow at Carnegie Europe and editor in chief of Strategic Europe. At Carnegie Europe she writes:

Negotiations can only begin if Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky is in a strong enough position to set the terms. Those terms are not just about restoring Ukraine’s territorial integrity. They are about ensuring that Russia does not attack or threaten Kyiv again. An end to the war is about ending Russia’s imperial ambitions in this part of Europe. [ ... ] It is not enough for leaders and defense ministers to say ad nauseam that they will support Ukraine “for as long as it takes” or that Ukraine must win. How is that going to happen if the country is not provided with the essential military equipment? And if there are mutterings in some Europeans capitals and in Washington that the Ukrainian offensive has not been quick enough or effective enough, the reason is that Ukraine lacks the military support to achieve it. [ ... ] The war is a test for Europe in particular and the West in general. It is about security, conviction, and trying to uphold values based on the pursuit of democracy. Ultimately, that’s what the Ukrainians are fighting for. A fudged compromise will damage the West and appease—indeed embolden—Russia and its supporters.

Exactly. This is not just an unprovoked war against Ukraine, it's a war against the West and liberal democratic values.

[66-bl1tz-kr13g-fr1tz]

//The Wire//2130Z April 22, 2024//

//ROUTINE//

//BLUF: TENSIONS RISE IN AFRICA. CONGRESS HIGHLIGHTS D.C. PRIORITIES WITH LATEST BILLS. EARTHQUAKE STRIKES TAIWAN.//

-----BEGIN TEARLINE-----

-International Events-

Niger: The situation remains tense following multiple developments in the region over the past few weeks. Following the coup last year, the status of American involvement in Niger has remained delicate, with the ruling military faction not approving of the American presence at Base 201, as well as in Niamey. A few weeks ago, Niger demanded that the United States leave Niger, and has (in effect) established a no-fly-zone over the base, preventing Americans from receiving logistical aid. Consequently, and after a few Congressmen were contacted by their constituents at the base, what has quietly become a large-scale hostage situation has become public.

Taiwan: This morning several earthquakes again struck the island, the strongest of which had an estimated magnitude of 5.8. Around a dozen separate earthquakes have been reported, which may be aftershocks related to the previous swarm of earthquakes.

-HomeFront-

Washington D.C. – Over the weekend, all of the recent allegedly hotly-contested bills passed in Congress. All of the funding bills passed with zero changes, along with the Tik-Tok ban bill, and the renewal of FISA Section 702 to continue warrantless surveillance of all Americans (except members of Congress). AC: Passing a bill to ban a social media app due to Chinese surveillance, while literally using the color of law to remove the 4th Amendment is not merely ironic, but a deliberate message to the American people. As illegal surveillance is an American pastime at this point, solidifying these actions publicly is merely ‘checking the box’ to improve the efficiency of the already-streamlined political targeting process.

The U.S. Equal Opportunity Employment Commission has sued the Sheetz gas station/convenience store chain, alleging that conducting background checks on employees is racial discrimination as employment is routinely denied to those with a long criminal record. This lawsuit comes less than 24 hours after Biden made a campaign stop at a Sheetz in Pittsburgh, which did not go as well as planned due to a lackluster response to his presence by staff and customers. AC: Though the implications of this lawsuit will potentially result in interpretations not intended by the White House, separately, the message to the American business owner is quite clear, especially those which may become host to a campaign event.

-----END TEARLINE-----

Analyst Comments: The various factions at play in Niger have described the situation on the ground in vastly different ways. The Nigerien government has stated that they will agree to “release” 1,000 American “prisoners” at the base, in exchange for taking control of the airbase itself. From the American perspective, the situation is likely not that severe; the combat power at Base 201 (and at the Embassy in Niamey) is more than enough to decimate the majority of Niger’s military rather quickly. However, both military leaders and diplomats involved in the situation likely want to avoid this situation out of political convenience, which despite an American military advantage being obvious, can be made more militarily complicated by the Nigeriens. As America’s forays in Africa often meet unexpected and politically-impacting ends, it is likely that the U.S. seeks to withdraw from this base quietly.

This situation is compounded by the situation in Djibouti, which has deteriorated severely following the events that led to Yemeni targeting in the Red Sea/HOA region. Djibouti took the side of Yemen, which was rather inconvenient for the exceptionally large American military bases in the region.

Protests against American military presence, along with pressure from local governments has resulted in the United States being placed on the back-foot with regards to two major military footholds in Africa. Though a failure on the proportions of the Fall of Kabul is not likely just yet, the potential for major and devastating military losses (including the loss of many American lives) is possible if tensions continue to sour to the point that the United States is forced out of Africa at the tip of the bayonet.

Analyst: S2A1

//END REPORT//

[sneakymystique]

Practice Makes Perfect

Steel balls clicked rhythmically against each other, the staccato beat the only sound echoing through the darkened chamber in the heart of the Brotherhood's base. Pale moonlight glinted off the clicking spheres, the master of magnetism brooding in silence, his gaze upon the spheres but not really seeing them.

As he had grown older he had found that sleep had grown ever more elusive, a few hours snatched at a time, often interrupted by the urgent need to empty his bladder. Old age was creeping up on him ever faster and there was still so much he needed to do, the task of establishing mutants in their proper place still frustratingly out of reach even after decades of effort. The thought brought a flash of anger, the metal spheres crushed and tossed to the wall with the briefest of thoughts, his anger already ebbing as fast as it had come.

Enough of this, if he could not sleep he would at least do something productive. Raising himself out of his chair, ignoring the creaking of his protesting bones, he strode purposefully out of the office, following the well-trod path that led to the room housing his second in command. She required even less sleep than he and having taken the weekend away from Washington she might welcome the visit, even though strategy was on his mind and not other more...enjoyable activities.

He did not bother to knock, the metal door sliding open at his will, entering the perennially dark room preoccupied with his thoughts. "Mystique, the operation at..." He stopped dead.

The creature, he couldn't even begin to categorise what it was, loomed large in the centre of the room, chalk white, two of six rangy muscular limbs barbed with spikes giving the thing more than twice his height. Magneto took an involuntary step back as the two tentacles with flower-like toothy maws snapped around to face him, the creature's equally horrific bony pointed skull and jaws lined with viciously sharp teeth making him shudder inwardly, his gaze transfixed by the pulsing V of blood red flesh and green mucus where the creature's nose should be. That was where he would strike it, a metal spear clean through its foul...

"Yes Erik?" Mystique's multitoned voice emanated from the creature's mouth, it's blood red eyes flashing yellow as they met his. Although the dual tone of her voice made it hard to tell, he had known Mystique long enough that he could tell she was amused and he straightened himself instantly

"Very amusing." He remarked acidly, raising an eyebrow at the horrific mien his fellow mutant had chosen to assume and folding his arms calmly, eyeing the towering beast with a cold stare even as his heartbeat started to slow back down. "The operation at the power company is proceeding as scheduled?" He continued, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing just how rattled he had been.

"Of course." Her answer as succinct as ever, the shapeshifter never saying more when less would do, the Mystique-creature shifted it...her stance slightly, that foul nasal V vibrating with a truly disgusting noise as it...she took a breath and it was only then that the smell reached him, a truly awful stench that made him gag in his throat. Worse than a mound of corpses, worse than forgotten milk, worse than anything else he had ever smelled, he recoiled, trying to keep the contents of his stomach from travelling upward, even if the resulting mess would be an excellent punishment for her tricks.

"Would you not." He growled, irritated that she had decisively won this encounter, his eyes watering from the smell as he took another step away, hopefully out of range of that abominable reek. In response the huge creature started to fold in on itself, blue scales erupting all over its form as its limbs shrank inward, realigning here, melting away there, until his second in command stood before him in all her mutant perfection, eyeing him with that maddeningly hard to read blank look that told him she was likely enjoying this. "As I was saying, I think we might need to up our schedule, I am concerned that the X-Men know too much and for once I would rather be several steps ahead of Charles and prepare accordingly. How soon can the plan be executed without compromising its chance of success?" He had his own estimates, but having Mystique's opinion was always valuable, even if sometimes it was not what he wished to hear.

For a moment she was entirely still as she mulled over the plan, followed by a terse. "Two weeks, no less." Not what he had wanted to hear, but in line with his own estimates, drawing from him a reluctant nod. "Very well, let us proceed on that timeline." He was about to turn away when abruptly she began to move, the contrast to her previous total stillness drawing his gaze as she veritably slinked forward, patches of moonlight catching on bare skin, dappling on svelte curves and the sway of her breasts. "Is there something else you wanted Erik?" She veritably purred, the languid swing of her hips fixing his gaze even as his heart started to beat faster once more, excited by the enticement of her bare body.

"No that is all." That would be his victory. Turning on his heel he once again heard the familiar crackle and squelch of transforming flesh and bone, his shoulders tensing somewhat as he wondered if it was aimed at him, a shadow growing steadily behind him. Letting out an irritated huff, his pace remained steady and nor did he look back to see what fresh monstrosity had been conjured from her imagination. He had better things to do, or at least so he would tell himself as he tossed and turned for hours afterwards, thinking of bare blue skin.

Behind him Mystique watched him go. In her new form she did not currently have lips to smirk, otherwise the Cheshire cat would have a run for its money. It was his loss, but then Erik had always let pride get in the way of truly winning. Perhaps she would go to him later, but for now her time was hers.

Having spent so much time lately as an aging male, it felt good to push her body beyond the humanoid norm, forcing it into the most grotesque contortions and revelling in what she truly was; a being of change, fluid, quicksilver, unlimited by the anatomical rules of muscle and bone. Such shapes were difficult, painful even, but at night in the privacy of her quarters she was free to explore her abilities in whatever way she saw fit, testing, honing and refining her changes and pushing what was possible a little more with every shift.

After all, practice makes perfect.

This ficlet was inspired by a conversation with the lovely and very patient @stormxpadme and by this image by Ken Barthelmey. In comics canon Mystique has shifted into various horrific monsters, so I thought why not write that into movie-verse too? It's set not long after the events of X2.

[rabbithaver]

this is an extremely stupid, pathetic, selfish vent post. you have been warned.

tws for discussion of the genocide.

i want to help. i want to help so fucking bad, but being disabled means i have no income. i have extremely limited finances; all the money i have, i have gotten from my parents. i don't even have a credit card of my own or access to my own bank account. i've used my mom's paypal for pretty much every single piece of art i've commissioned.

i want to give more. i want to do more. i really do! but im not able to give money… so i should be going to protests. i know that is the right thing to do. hell, its the bare minimum. good people go to protests. good people make themselves heard. good people actually make change. and i want to go to a protest so bad! i really want to help! what Israel is doing is horrific and it should be stopped!

and yet, with my spine and joints, it is impossible for me to stand up for longer than 15-20 mins without going through white hot pain. like, easily a 9 or 10 on the pain scale. hell, that's the main reason i rarely leave my house; it's very difficult for me to go places when i don't know if they will be accessible. i need places to sit down or else i'm in pain… but you're not supposed to sit down at protests

and i know what you're going to say. believe me, i've been saying it to myself every fucking day: i should be forcing myself to push through the pain. good people would push through the pain anyway. what even is a pain scale anyway, when the people of gaza are going through a literal genocide? standing through the pain to make my voice heard… that would be the bare minimum!

there are people on the other side of the world who have lost everything, who are suffering so much more than i could imagine every day. those people need us to make our governments hear us. me sitting here bitching about my pain is making a mockery of the hell those poor people have endured for the last 75 fucking years.

i just… god, its so fucking selfish. i'm so fucking selfish. i should be doing more. good people do more. i should be trying harder. i have been doing some things. i've been doing my daily clicks. i've been calling my representatives. i've been signing petitions. stuff like that. but i've seen the numbers… those are things EVERYBODY can do. its basically meaningless… its not enough.

if there's one thing i've learned from my time on the left, it's that you have to give it all you've got. you HAVE to. if you're not pushing yourself, then you're not helping. "you owe it to the people whose suffering you benefit from."

there's a post i saw on leftbook awhile back. i can't remember the specific wording, but i remember it going something like this:

"signing petitions, calling representatives, all of that is just the bare minimum, and 'just the bare minimum' is pathetic. its not enough. you're just trying to do enough to make yourself feel better for having privilege. if you really wanted to make change, you'd be donating your money and your time. you'd be going out there marching. you'd be going to protests. you would be watching every video of every attack and trying to understand the enemy. you would watch as much footage as you could find in solidarity. you would be studying the history. hell, you would be going out and confronting Zionists in person. you have to put everything you have into this because the people you're trying to help don't get to rest. they don't get to relax. when you 'just take a break,' you're mocking them and everything they've lost. you should be standing in solidarity with everything they've endured. if you're not, you might as well join the Zionists — you're just as bad as they are."

those last two sentences have stuck with me. "you should be standing in solidarity with everything they've endured. if you're not, you might as well join the Zionists — you're just as bad as they are."

just as bad as they are.

there are other people who have worse pain who go anyway, because they know that what Israel is doing is wrong. they're pushing through it because they know that anyone who just stands idly by during a genocide is entirely complicit. i should be doing that. i should be pushing harder. i should be. i should be. i should be. i should be. i should be. if i can't, i might as well kill myself, because at least that'd be better than benefiting from what my disgusting country has been doing. what am i doing instead? i'm posting on my stupid little blog. i'm making these global issues all about me. it's so fucking disgusting. it's inexcusable. it's fucking pathetic.

that post i saw was right. by not doing anything that really matters, im just letting it happen. by not pushing myself, by staying comfortable in my pathetic life, im complicit in what my country is doing. hell, i might as well be helping. it's completely disgusting. it's irredeemable. i'm a selfish, vile, repulsive fucking monster and the world would be better off with one less of those.

"weeh weeeeeh im so sadddd i can't help :(" literally kill yourself, rabbit. you're selfish and vile. you can't even make up for the oxygen you steal from other, better people. this is why so many people have wanted you to die. you're disgusting.

[beardedmrbean]

The National Guard will be assisting local police on Tuesday as tens of thousands of people are expected to attend two large-scale demonstrations in the nation's capital, according to officials.

The first rally, the "March For Israel," is being organized by the Jewish Federations of North America and will begin shortly before noon, according to a permit filed with the National Park Service.

The permit states that it is expected to bring up to 60,000 people Washington to "show solidarity and support for Israel and the Israeli People" amid the ongoing Israel-Hamas war in the wake of Hamas' Oct. 7 terror attack, in which the extremists are believed to have also taken more than 200 captives.

"March to free the hostages. March against antisemitism. March for peace," organizers posted on X on Monday.

Lawmakers are set to speak, too, according to the permit.

Despite the name, the event will not include a march and will take place entirely on the National Mall, where significant fencing had been erected as of Monday night.

A second event on Tuesday, called the "Here To Work" protest, will be in support of immigration reform. Organizers have said that "thousands will converge" to demonstrate for authorizing work permits for immigrants currently without that documentation "who have been members of our communities, raised families, worked and paid taxes for years or even decades."

According to a permit filed for the demonstration, they are expecting up to 5,000 people to march from the U.S. Capitol to Lafayette Park outside of the White House and rally for several hours while calling for additional government action to "grant relief to immigrants."

Washington Mayor Muriel Bowser said Monday that police had "asked for mutual assistance and support from the National Guard" and, with road closures planned, "the National Guard will be supporting some traffic safety points."

"We continue to monitor we expect a large gathering," Bowser said. "We are paying attention to the numbers of buses that are coming, and I think we can expect tens of thousands of people."

The Department of Homeland Security designated Tuesday’s rally as a "Level 1" security event, the highest rating of risk assessment, sources told ABC News.

The assessment, which ABC News has obtained a copy of, indicates no "specific, actionable threat" but echoes previous warnings from federal authorities.

For comparison, the Super Bowl is routinely designated a Level 1, which DHS says is "defined as having such significant national and/or international importance that it may require extensive federal interagency security and incident management preparedness."

In a separate statement, Metropolitan Police Department spokesperson Paris Lewbel said that authorities are "committed to ensuring the safety and security of all residents and visitors to the District. We recognize the importance of upholding the First Amendment rights of individuals to peacefully express their views, and we are committed to facilitating lawful demonstrations while maintaining public order."

"Currently, there are no credible threats," Lewbel said.

[bopinion]

2023 / 23

Aperçu of the Week:

"Courage is knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyway. Stupidity is the same. And that's why life is hard."

(Jeremy Goldberg, 1958 born English historian at the University of York)

Bad News of the Week - A selection because I could not decide:

The right-wing populist party Alternative for Germany (Alternative für Deutschland / AfD) comes in at 18% in polls for the first time, putting it in second place after the Conservatives and ahead of the Social Democrats. 65% of AfD voters considered immigration to be the biggest current problem - excuse me?1? Germany needs 500,000 migrants - every year. Otherwise our over-aged society will collapse, where no one wants to work at the garbage collection. The alternative? More children of right-wingers? Please don't...

The dam burst, whatever its cause, on the Dnipro River in the southern Ukrainian region of Kherson, is a disaster of inconceivable proportions. Huge masses of water have been pouring out of the destroyed Kakhovka dam since Tuesday, serious environmental destruction is occurring, tens of thousands have to be evacuated, and the regional supply of electricity and drinking water is limited. The suffering adds a new dimension to this war.

I have a high respect for police officers - my stepfather is (was) one. But the East German police are, unfortunately, largely right-wing. That's why a few days ago in Leipzig there were violent riots with the left, who took to the streets after a court ruling against their symbolic figure Lina E. (convicted of attacking right-wing extremists and neo-Nazis). A demonstration that was initially authorized but then withdrawn. According to independent media reports, the escalation was sought by the police and not by the protesters.

An unprecedented scale of wildfires in Canada is not only destroying millions of acres of nature, but affecting people thousands of miles away. In New York City, the sky is orange and the population is told to stay indoors as breathing outside is difficult even for healthy people. In Greenland and Iceland, too, air quality is dropping noticeably, and this weekend the smoke will reach even northern Europe. And no one knows what the situation is like in Siberia right now, where there is equally severe drought.

Small and medium-sized businesses in the European Union are becoming increasingly dependent on the "marketplace" offerings of Amazon, the online retailer that dominates by a wide margin. The analysis of the Dutch think tank Somo, which will be published in a few days, comes to a simple conclusion: effective antitrust proceedings would have to lead to a break-up. Otherwise, healthy competition would fall by the wayside.

Good News of the Week - A selection because I could not decide:

The European Court of Justice has ruled: Poland's judicial reform, which effectively abolishes the independence of the judiciary, violates EU law. Therefore, billions of EU funds remain frozen - and democratic values defended.

Brazil unveils an ambitious plan to combat deforestation of the Amazon rainforest. Already since Lula da Silva took office, the destruction - almost all of it illegal - of one of the world's most important ecosystems has reportedly already fallen by a third.

Former U.S. President Trump has been indicted again. The judiciary accuses him of 37 counts surrounding the classified documents he unlawfully took from the White House. Theoretically, he can be punished with up to ten years in prison in this regard. It's the first federal indictment of an ex-president. And that's a good thing: no one is above the law. That goes for Boris "The haircut" Johnson, too, by the way.

The EU has finally come to a so-called asylum compromise. Even though many aspects of this compromise - such as the treatment of unaccompanied minors from so-called "safe countries of origin," including Kosovo, for example - upset me because of its inhumane harshness, it is better than nothing. Because until now, there was simply no Europe-wide mechanism at all, and the countries at the EU's external borders were simply left to fend for themselves.

"Operation Hope" lived up to its name: after forty days, four children who had gone missing after the crash of a small plane were found by soldiers in the Colombian jungle. They had survived with the help of indigenous people.

Young adults from Germany and France are to travel and get to know their respective neighboring countries in order to strengthen relations between the two countries. To this end, the transport ministers of Germany and France have launched the Franco-German Friendship Pass - 60,000 can travel free of charge for a month.

Personal happy moment of the week:

As a foreigner, my wife regularly has to prove her residence status to various official bodies, including the bank. Last week it was time again. On this occasion, her customer advisor noticed that she has been married to a German since the end of December 2022 - namely to me. Therefore, she was not only warmly congratulated, but also received a gift: a high-quality set of barbecue tools. It was a great pleasure to receive congratulations again. A good 15 months after the wedding.

I couldn't care less...

...that now former US Vice President Mike Pence has also thrown his hat into the ring. Or the ex-governor of New Jersey Chris Christie. Because all observers agree on one thing: the more internal competition there is among the Republicans for the U.S. presidential candidacy, the better for Donald Trump. And the worse for the whole world.

As I write this...

... I'm amazed: The plant fruit Okra is one of the oldest vegetables in the world, cultivated in the highlands of Abyssinia more than 4,000 years ago. The annual harvest yields over 10 million tons - and I first heard about it in a crossword puzzle.

Post Scriptum

On June 5, 1972, World Environment Day was established. Since then, every year on this date, there are different events around the world that aim to raise people's ecological awareness. A total of around 150 countries participate in this day of action. In Germany, this year's motto is "Strengthen nature - protect the climate". Never heard about it? Maybe that's the problem...

[chussy]

so, basically, to summarize my insane after-work rant from tonight:

no one can save the world, they can only save their part of it. that part counts no matter its size - from liberating your country from Fascist occupation to preserving and restoring the natural biodiversity of the creek behind your house - it still counts. however, it’s still not saving the world. it may not even be changing the world. the world is a big place to change. sometimes i think that the idea of saving or changing the entire world and everything in it that’s fucked up takes away the focus from local matters and local organization.

BUT here’s the things i think would be necessary to do in order to attempt saving the whole world:

ending the churches; catholic, anglican, protestant, all of them. removing organized christianity and its ideas from influencing people.

ending the american empire and its propaganda, both domestic and foreign. america is a big reason for why the world hasn’t changed. it is not in their interest for things to change for the better.

ending capitalism and its advertising campaigns (and propaganda). why do you think women are expected to shave? it’s all because of an advertising campaign from 1915. advertisements - specifically american advertisements - have a lot more influence globally than most people think. also companies organize their own coups for profit using private armies.

removing the generations of deeply ingrained propaganda from people would be a multi generational project that would have to start with what i just said. there’s no other way to deprogram people on a global scale if those three institutions aren’t ended. if even one of them has influence, all of them have influence, and nothing fundamentally changes.

OH AND ENDING WHITE SUPREMACY. GOD THAT ONE COMPLETELY TIES RIGHT IN WITH RHE OTHER THREE AND IF IT HAS INFLUENCE ALL OF THEM HAVE INFLUENCE. very very useful tool for ensuring the continued subjugation of a large number of people.

and having people unlearn the attitudes and opinions that are based in the ideas that these four things perpetuate would be a 3+ generation long project. it would be completely and fully impossible unless people in every country organized together with the same goal.

god. fuck. god damn. there really is no saving the world only saving your part of it. find your part, work on saving it, even a little bit matters so much.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 5.4 (after 1950)

1953 – Ernest Hemingway wins the Pulitzer Prize for The Old Man and the Sea. 1959 – The 1st Annual Grammy Awards are held. 1961 – American civil rights movement: The "Freedom Riders" begin a bus trip through the South. 1961 – Malcolm Ross and Victor Prather attain a new altitude record for manned balloon flight ascending in the Strato-Lab V open gondola to 113,740 feet (34.67 km). 1970 – Vietnam War: Kent State shootings: The Ohio National Guard, sent to Kent State University after disturbances in the city of Kent the weekend before, opens fire killing four unarmed students and wounding nine others. The students were protesting the Cambodian Campaign of the United States and South Vietnam. 1972 – The Don't Make A Wave Committee, a fledgling environmental organization founded in Canada in 1971, officially changes its name to "Greenpeace Foundation". 1973 – The 108-story Sears Tower in Chicago is topped out at 1,451 feet (442 m) as the world's tallest building. 1978 – The South African Defence Force attacks a SWAPO base at Cassinga in southern Angola, killing about 600 people. 1979 – Margaret Thatcher becomes the first female Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. 1982 – Twenty sailors are killed when the British Type 42 destroyer HMS Sheffield is hit by an Argentinian Exocet missile during the Falklands War. 1988 – The PEPCON disaster rocks Henderson, Nevada, as tons of Space Shuttle fuel detonate during a fire. 1989 – Iran–Contra affair: Former White House aide Oliver North is convicted of three crimes and acquitted of nine other charges; the convictions are later overturned on appeal. 1989 – Space Shuttle Atlantis launches on mission STS-30 to deploy the Venus-bound Magellan space probe. 1990 – Latvia declares independence from the Soviet Union. 1994 – Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and PLO leader Yasser Arafat sign a peace accord, granting self-rule in the Gaza Strip and Jericho. 1998 – A federal judge in Sacramento, California, gives "Unabomber" Theodore Kaczynski four life sentences plus 30 years after Kaczynski accepts a plea agreement sparing him from the death penalty. 2000 – Ken Livingstone becomes the first Mayor of London (an office separate from that of the Lord Mayor of London). 2002 – One hundred three people are killed and 51 are injured in a plane crash near Mallam Aminu Kano International Airport in Kano, Nigeria. 2007 – Greensburg, Kansas is almost completely destroyed by a 1.7-mile wide EF5 tornado. It was the first-ever tornado to be rated as such with the new Enhanced Fujita scale. 2014 – Three people are killed and 62 injured in a pair of bombings on buses in Nairobi, Kenya. 2019 – The inaugural all-female motorsport series, W Series, takes place at Hockenheimring. The race was won by Jamie Chadwick, who would go on to become the inaugural season's champion. 2023 – Nine people are killed and thirteen injured in a spree shooting in Mladenovac and Smederevo, Serbia. It is the second mass shooting in the country in two days.

[redemption-of-misfortune]

Chapter 1: A New Horizon

[November 29, 7031, 4:48]

[3rd POV]

The soft glow from the slowly setting moons bathed the land far and wide. The moonlight spilled through the curtains of the house on the hill, the light just narrowly missing the face of a sleeping figure.

Careful and quiet footsteps approached the slumbering figure. A tall silhouette leaned over the sleeping individual.

Gentle hands lightly shook the sleeping human, the tall shapeshifter’s tail brushing lightly over the human's face making him groan. The shapeshifter used his tail to draw back the curtains behind him, allowing the moonlight to shine on the human’s face. Another groan escaped the human as he turned his head and buried it into his pillow.

“Honey,” The Shapeshifter whispered, “you need to get up.” He kept gently shaking the human. “Love, you need to get up and get ready; we have a gathering today.” The shapeshifter’s hand moved some of the human's hair behind his ear, revealing three scars. One on his upper lip next to the other two going down from his left cheek down part of his neck. His scars were only slightly darker than his pale skin. The shapeshifter began to rub the human's back.

“Five more minutes…” The Human lazily swatted his husband’s hand away. He grabbed his pillow and tried to bury his head further in. Despite the attempt, his fluffy hair greatly stuck out, his hair was mostly white with only an under section being black.

The Shapeshifter sighed. “Fine, you leave me no choice.” The Shapeshifter picked up the human removing any blankets and started carrying him, bridal style.

The human groaned. “Ugh, you win Timberlain, I’ll get ready,” he whined. He sleepily opened his eyes and slumped his head back, he watched upside down as they moved towards the bathroom.

“What time is it?” The groggy human asked as he was placed down in the bathroom doorway.

“It should be almost 5:00, and if we want to leave an hour early like planned we need to leave by 6:00,” Timberlain replied, ruffling the human’s hair.

“Hey! My hair is already messy!” The human protested, using his hands to cover his unruly hair. He paused for a second. “Hmm, is Söl awake yet?”

“I don’t think so, I’ll go wake up him and the kids, you just get ready, O’ Mighty Warden Akita,” he teased with a playful bow.

“Haha, how funny. Go wake everyone up.”

“Will do and I'll make breakfast too, Your Majesty.” Timberlain’s gin widened.

“Oh Shut up and get going!” The human pushed him away, chuckling.

Timberlain exited the room, heading down the hall. He stopped at the first bedroom door labeled ‘Lucifer & Lucille’. He knocked before opening the door. He was immediately greeted by an exhilarated German shepherd. He had a wide navy blue collar with flower patterns.

“Hey Dutch, how are you doing buddy?” Timberlain pet Dutch as he jumped up on him. “Dutch, go outside boy, go outside.” Dutch trotted around the corner of the hall, the faint sound of a dog door could be heard.

Timberlain leaned back into the room. “Lucifer, Lucille, come on you two get up, it’s an early morning.”

Lucille groaned, she waited a bit before sitting up. Her white medium-length hair and fur had been messy since she just woke up. Her irises were a beautiful turkish rose. What would’ve been her eye whites were a purple-ish onyx and her pupils were white. She has ram-shaped horns, they’re grey in color. Her scales shared the same grey color, they complimented her skin. which was a couple shades lighter than Timberlain’s. The scales appeared on spots all over her, the most prominent being on her face, arms, and covering her lizard-like tail. Her tail had a kink in it just before the fur that covered the end of it. Her ears resembled that of an elf’s. 

She stretched and looked over at Lucifer, who remained asleep and snoring. She reached for a smaller pillow and threw it hitting him in the face. He shot up startled before looking around then shouting at Lucille.

Lucifer looked very similar to Lucille. But some big noticeable differences were, his hair was much shorter and it wasn’t wavy like Lucille’s. A scar ran vertically, from his cheek to his forehead, over his eye. His horns went out of his head diagonally then shot up and curved inward. The right horn was broken off halfway up, he had a golden cap covering it. His tail was longer than Lucille’s, his tail was long enough some of it would drag across the ground while her’s barely avoided the ground. The one not noticeable feature while he was in his bed was his height, he was two inches shorter.

Timberlain sighed. “Okay okay, enough yelling, you two get ready and wake your siblings up.” Timberlain stood in the doorway awaiting a response.

Both teens didn't say anything but nodded. Timberlain shook his head with a lighthearted smile. He closed the door and headed further down the hall until he reached the living room.

Passing the kitchen island, located near the living room, he snatched an apple from the fruit bowl on the corner. He looked to the loft above the living room and tossed the apple up hearing the thump as it hit something.

“Ow the fuck! What the hell was that for?!” …more like someone. A thud and stumbling of steps approached the loft railing. A Demi-human with the ears and tail of an opossum leaned over the railing. His fur was long and coarse, it covered his neck and reached down his back and chest. It was a grayish-white, his fur contrasted against his dark skin and hair. His emerald green eyes narrowed and his expression was less than pleased. “What was that for? You could’ve woken me up like a normal person!” His tail flicked around in annoyance.

“Well, would you have rather had Lucifer wake you up? I say my way is much calmer than his, you freeloader,” Timberlain said, a smug smile now plastered on his face.

“Oh fuck off Timberlain. I’m not a freeloader, I actually do stuff around here!” He said with a huff.

“Timberlain!” Akita shouted from the bedroom.

“Yes, Akita?” Timberlain replied.

“Be nice to   Söl-leks!”

A smug smile now crept up   Söl-leks face. Timberlain narrowed his eyes at   Söl-leks. A brief tension hung in the air before Timberlain and   Söl-leks burst out laughing, the tension immediately dissolving.

“Whatever loser, I'm making breakfast so get ready. And you're in charge of the kids today.” Timberlain said.

“On it boss!”   Söl-leks replied, disappearing back into the loft.

Minutes passed, and the aroma of food lingered in the air.

Timberlain’s keen ears twitch at the incoming footsteps. He turned to see Akita, wearing his usual formal attire.

A desaturated strawberry pink sleeveless suit with a black long-sleeve dress shirt. His pants are a darker color of the desaturated pink, brown-ish grey boots with flower engravings. A light pink cravat with an emerald stone, long black fingerless gloves, and gold arm bracelets. His colorful earrings and colorful wedding ring are the only thing he wears every day. Even his eyes were colorful, his eyes were blue besides his left eye that had a brown spot due to sectoral heterochromia. Akita had a very colorful appearance. Timberlain loved it.

Akita hummed a tune, making his way over to Timberlain. He hugged the shapeshifter from behind, taking in the smell of breakfast. 

He peeked his head out to the side of Timberlain. “Mmm, that smells amazing,” he praised.

Timberlain chuckled, “Well my cooking is amazing.”

“Indeed it is,” Akita said. He looked up to Timberlain with a soft smile. “I love you, you know that? I really really love you,” he whispered.

“Of course I know that, but I love you more, dragonfly.”

Akita giggled, “Again with dragonfly?”

“You love my nicknames,” Timberlain teased and started ruffling Akita’s hair.

“No, my hair! I already brushed it!” Akita whined,  pushing away Timberlain’s hand. Akita sighed, “Have you woken up the kids?”

“Yeah I did, but it seems like they haven’t gotten up yet.” Timberlain sighed. “Could you make sure they’re up?”

Akita hummed in agreement, starting to head toward the kids’ rooms. However, he was abruptly stopped when something fell behind him, causing him to lose his balance. 

Timberlain turned around to see the commotion. “Whoa, what happened?! Are you two okay?!” 

“Huh?”   Söl-leks looked confused before noticing Akita on the floor. “Oh shit Akita! I am so sorry!” He hurriedly helped Akita to his feet.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Akita reassured him, dusting himself off. “Are you okay Söl?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Still, I’m sorry for knocking you over.”

“Don’t apologize, it was an accident and no one was hurt,” Akita replied. “Though, to make up for it, could you go make sure the kiddos are up? I’ll help Timberlain with breakfast.”

“Oh yeah! Sure thing.”   Söl-leks hopped around Akita and down the hall.

Timberlain chuckled.

“What?” Akita said. “It makes him feel good to know he’s helping.”

“I know. Just get over here and help me.” Timberlain scooted over, inviting Akita to stand next to him.

Akita paused, examining Timberlain's appearance. He had a few fruit bat features—ears, wings and tail. His dyed blond hair had streaks of dark brown, matching the color of his ears, wings, and tail. Timberlain’s wingspan reached 27ft, and his tail was about 4 feet long with darker brown fur that started midway down. He wore a long black medieval oriental vest, his sleeves buttoned at his elbows. He also wore black pants, with a belt tied at his waist. 

Once Akita got to Timberlain’s side he wrapped his wing around Akita. Both continued to make breakfast in silence enjoying each other's company. 

—————

   “Food!” Shouted two childlike voices, the sources quickly emerging from the hall.

Timberlain and Akita turned their attention to the children, Akita moved to intercept them.

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down there you two!” Akita chuckled, scooping up both children, one in each arm. 

“Daddy!” The demi-human child wrapped his arms around Akita’s neck, not squeezing too tight. His webbed hands and feet were a peach sorbet hue. His tail swayed gently from side to side, boasting a fish-like appearance. The same peach sorbet colored the membrane of his odd-shaped ragged tail fin and siren-like ears. His ears perked up. Sporadic brown and white scales covered his deep almond-colored skin, most prominently around his face, neck gills, arms and legs, and his tail. He had golden honey-colored eyes and curly and dark brown hair, framing his youthful face.

“Dad!” The Porchino child clung to Akita’s arm, holding on tight. Her long and fluffy pacific grove pink fur covered entirely. Her hands featured three fingers each made of keratin hooves. Her feet resemble traditional pig hooves. She had small, dull tusk poking out from the edges of her mouth, white and well-kept. Her tail and snout were short for her age. Her eyes were entirely white, from the sclera to the pupil, a pure white. 

Both children giggled with excitement as Akita carried them to the dining room, Lucifer and Lucille soon followed behind Akita. Yuri and Atticus sat down side by side at the round table, surrounded by seven seats.

Dutch scampered in from the backyard, greeted by scratches and pats from everyone. 

“Hey Dad,” Lucifer greeted.

“Hi Papa,” added Lucille.

After setting the youngest two down, Akita greeted the twins. “Hello, Lucifer. Hello, Lucille,” he said, offering them both a hug. “How are you both this morning?” 

“I’m doing fine, Papa,” Lucille replied, taking a seat next to Atticus.

“Fine, but it’s too early to be waking up,” Lucifer groaned, sinking into his chair.

“Well, I’m glad you're both doing fine. I'm gonna go help your father—” Akita was interrupted by a timely announcement.

“Look who has food!” Timberlain declared. He and   Söl-leks carried breakfast dishes to the table. Akita got the drinks and brought them to everyone. Breakfast included pancakes, beef sausage, fish, bananas, strawberries, blueberries, scrambled eggs, water, milk, and orange juice. 

The breakfast was made with specific diets in mind. 

Timberlain, needs fruits with his food and enjoys sweet drinks. 

Atticus's diet had to consist of some fish or insects and needed water to keep well hydrated. 

Yuri, couldn't stomach eating meat. 

Lucifer and Lucille's, diet consisted mostly of meat. 

Akita, was lactose intolerant and wasn’t fond of any sweet drinks. 

  Söl-leks, wasn’t picky and had no dietary restrictions.

“Well, eat up, everyone!” Timberlain grinned, proud of his cooking.

“Thanks, Lain.,” Akita smiled in return.

“Thank you, Father,” chimed Lucifer and Lucille in unison.

“Thanks, Dad!” Atticus grinned.

“Thank you, Papa!” Yuri smiled from ear to ear.

“Thanks… Timberlain…!”   Söl-leks exclaimed in between bites, laughter filled the room. 

—[5:56]—

[Timberlain POV]

   Akita he’d gone to get his horse, Osprey, from the public stable in the hills district. It was quite a walk, and I offered to get Osprey for him, but he was insistent on going himself. I entered Akita’s office, I needed to gather all necessary documents for the gathering. After collecting a few folders and loose papers, I carefully arranged them in a messenger bag. 

Examining his desk, I found it in disarray, cluttered and unorganized. Some papers even lay scattered on the floor. I took it upon myself to tidy up, organizing how he does. I stacked the report documents from the request papers, lined up pencils and erasers neatly. However, it was odd - his favorite fountain pen was missing. My search led me to find it broken in the trash. Akita loved this pen, so I was thoroughly confused. I’ve noticed he’s been rather tense the last few days. I made a mental note to ask him later.

Lost in thought, I didn't hear Lucifer call my name at first.

“Father?” Lucifer’s voice broke my concentration as he peered into the room, his eyebrow was raised looking at me. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah sorry, I was just thinking. What’s up Lucifer?” 

“Dad is waiting for you out front.”

“Oh, thank you for letting me know. Let's go.” I discreetly stashed the broken fountain pen in my pocket as Lucifer and I headed outside.

[3rd POV]

   Akita patiently waited outside the house alongside Osprey. Osprey had a striking cloud-grey coat with white markings on his face, muzzle, and legs. Steel-grey colored his rear blending into the cloud-grey. His mane shared the same steel-grey shade. 

The creak of a door opening caught Akita’s attention, he turned to see   Söl-leks and the kids exiting the house. Akita led Osprey closer to everyone, and Osprey extended his head towards them. The children showered Osprey with pats on his head and neck, he leaned further into all the affection.

Akita chuckled, his hand patting Osprey’s neck, “You love getting pets, don’t you?” He began to run his fingers through Osprey’s soft mane.

Akita glanced at the front door and back to everyone else. “Where's Timberlain?” He asked.

“He said he’d be out in a bit, just grabbing something.”   Söl-leks replied.

Akita let out a sigh. “I’ll go get him.”

Lucifer offered to do so instead. “I can get him.” 

“Well then,” Akita agreed with a smile. “If you want, go ahead and get your father.” 

Lucifer disappeared into the house while those outside talked amongst each other.

Before long, Timberlain stepped outside, with Lucifer following behind. 

“Look who finally showed up,” Akita quipped, his tone light-hearted.

Timberlain chuckled nervously. “We should get going.” He stood next to Akita.

Akita nodded, then turned to the kids, embracing the twins lightly. “Luci, Lu, as usual, you two help   Söl-leks out today and ensure you two and your siblings get to school, okay?”

“Of course Papa,” Lucille affirmed.

Lucifer nodded and gave a double thumbs-up, “We’ll make sure to help out and get to school, Dad.”

Akita then turned to the younger pair. “You two will behave, won’t you?”

“Absolutely, Daddy!” Atticus grinned and offered a wonky playful salute.

“I’ll be a big help, Dad!” The piglin cheerily smiled, jumping up and tail wagging.

Akita turned to   Söl-leks. “Can you hold down the fort while we’re away?”

“Certainly, who do you take me for?”   Söl-leks replied confidently, his thumb pointing to his chest. “I’ll have everything under control, and I'll make sure everyone gets where they need to be.”

The kids exchanged mischievous glances, causing   Söl-leks to gulp nervously. Akita and Timberlain shared a chuckle.

“Very well, then. We’ll be leaving.” Akita said.

With that, Akita mounted Osprey, signaling the horse to start walking by a gentle squeeze. Timberlain swiftly joined Akita, holding on securely. As they left, Akita and Timberlain turned to wave their goodbyes. With hands raised high and shouting byes, they bid farewell, and the waving hands and returning shouts followed them as they rode off.

—[9:23]—

   The warm, now risen morning sun cast a radiant glow on Akita and Timberlain. A gentle breeze blew and ruffled their hair, making it a pleasant day. 

Timberlain found himself lost in thought at the base of the stairs while Akita walked Osprey to the Mountain Stables. Until a sudden tug at his sleeve brought him back to reality.

Akita looked up at Timberlain with a hint of concern in his eyes. “You okay Lain?” Akita questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Timberlain replied.  “Should we head up, your majesty?”

Chuckling, Akita responded, “Hahaha, let’s go, you doof.”

The higher they got the cooler the breeze became. As they climbed, their lively chatter changed into a quieter conversation. Near the mountaintop, they spotted a large open structure with an oval stone base, a wooden domed roof, and quartz pillars connecting the two. Some overgrowth partially covered the building. The steps into the structure were clean and worn, rope railings guarded the sides. There were other steps to the right of the building, they led down somewhere else.

Stepping inside, a long round-edged table with twelve chairs, six of which were thrones. Each throne had distinct characteristics, materials, and colored cushions, as well as matching chairs placed to the right of each throne. 

At either end of the table, thrones occupied the space. The throne nearest to the entrance was made from a weathered grey stone, its yellow padding contrasted against it. Overgrowth and cracks covered its surface. The throne opposite was crafted from dark oak, its cushions pristine white. 

Along the longer sides of the table there, two thrones spaced equally apart each side. To the right of the yellow-padded throne, a cold stone throne a pale goldenrod hue, it had purple upholstery and petite amethyst crystals. On the right of the purple throne sat a throne made of a walnut tree, its seat a forest green. 

To the left of the yellow throne, a throne constructed from deep blackstone displayed a royal red seat. Adjacent, to the left of the red throne, resided a throne made of bright white quartz, its seat draped in serene blue.

Above each throne, grand enchanted banners swayed gently. These banners matched the hues corresponding to the seats beneath them. 

While the banners of the thrones along the long sides depicted a dark silhouette of a person cradling an orb, mirroring the seats’ colors, the banners above the dark oak and grey stone thrones told different tales. The dark oak throne’s banner displayed a smudged silhouette, while the grey stone throne’s banner was severely charred and barely recognizable.

 Akita's attention turned to the three individuals already seated there.

“Well, I didn’t expect anyone to be here yet, but it seems we weren’t the only ones who thought of coming earlier today,” Akita spoke, shifting the attention from the three to him.

The shapeshifter, lounging in her cracked and overgrown throne, responded with disdain, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the human and it’s pest. Surprising natural section hasn’t picked you off, yet.” She smirked.

Timberlain rolled his eyes, he paid her little mind. 

“Hmm, always the jokester, Goddess Willow,” Akita remarked, standing to the right of the demi-god. His gaze shifted towards the empty sea beside Willow. “Could Paiden not attend today?” Akita inquired.

Willow stood tall at 6 feet 8 inches, matching Timberlain’s height. A pair of large, dark grey hare ears adorned her head, blending with her dark charcoal hair. Her hair was styled in a choppy mullet with a side bang that swept to her right. Concealing her face was a two-toned mask, half black and half white. Draped in a carbon-black sleeveless bodysuit, Willow wore belt cargo pants secured by a belt and zippers at the knees and lower calves. A side bag, covered with pure gold chains and silver clips, hung at her side, it contained various trinkets she had found. Her feet wore obsidian-black combat boots with heels that extended to her lower calves. Willow’s arms were enveloped in fingerless gloves, reaching up to her mid-shoulders. Her wings, resembling those of a harpy eagle, were massive and well-kept, boasting an impressive wingspan. Although she possessed a rabbit tail, it resembled that of a deer and was often hidden. In certain lighting, her form shimmered with hints of purple hues.

“Oh, please, I’ve told you there is no need for this ‘Goddess’ talk. Makes me feel old,” Willow responded with a sigh, resting their head in her palm. “Paiden got caught up with his own work, and I managed to catch Victoria on the way up here.” Willow gestured toward one of the Porchino off to her left.

“Good morning, Empress Victoria and Royal Guard Ezra. I assume you both arrived early to welcome the new Amethian Emperor?” Akita greeted.

Victoria, a 6-foot-tall Porchino, sat in her throne of blackstone. Her light pink fur faded to a fuzzy brown hue on her arms, legs, tail, back and neck. Her fur, short with a soft undercoat, concealed her body beneath a bristly upper coat. Her fingers and feet were made from keratin hooves, while her eyes gleamed pure white, a common Porchino trait. She adorned herself in a ruby red long-sleeved dress, gracefully sweeping the floor if she stood. A garnet-red organza fabric enveloped her chest and arms of the dress, accentuating her royal attire. A black silk sash encircled her waist, and her long, curled tail elegantly emerged from the garment. A golden gorget adorned her neck, engraved with simple patterns. On her shoulders, she wore epaulets, each bearing the royal emblem of her empire. Victoria garnished herself with an array of golden jewelry, including tusk studs, a nose ring, a necklace, and earrings adorned with red rubies. Her ears sparkled with small hoops and studs, while bracelets dazzled her wrist. Various braids and beads within her tail fur told her story, from birth to marital status, and even the day of her coronation.

Ezra, a mere 3 inches taller than Victoria, exuded a melanistic look with his coal-black fur. His fur mane encircled his neck, concealing any scars that may have marked his chest and neck beneath its bushy and coarse texture. His tusks, a source of immense pride in Porchino culture, were impressively long, curving almost in a complete circle. Burn scars covered the left side of his face and his left arm, while his arms and legs boasted short fur. His visible scars are outlined with golden paint. His left eye was missing, his right was a deep red featuring a golden pupil, and his tail, broken two-thirds of the way down, concluded his tail fur was like a fan. He sported a black short-sleeve shirt paired with pants extended only to his knees. A belt wrapped around his waist, crowned by a golden buckle. Gold-plated armor protected his shoulders, secured by leather straps connected to his front chestplate. Similar golden plates, fastened with dual leather straps, rested on his arms and legs. A tuft of fluffy white fur protruded from his right shoulder plate. Like Victoria, Ezra garnished himself with a multitude of golden jewelry, including bracelets, a nose ring, earrings, tusk studs, tail and tusk rings, and a plethora of braids and beads, each carrying a piece of his story, from birth to his esteemed role as a Royal Guard.

“Good morning to you too, Akita!” Victoria greeted with a cheerful smile and a wave. She comfortably sat in her red cushioned throne, with Ezra in the chair next to her.

“Morning, Akita,” Ezra’s deep, gravelly voice dominated the room. “We figured a more formal greeting was in order before Aero and Rowan arrived.”

“You know those two can be quite…” Victoria added, her voice trailing off.

Akita nodded and replied, “Of course,” as he made his way to the seat across from Willow’s. Timberlain followed suit.

The long table was decorated with several items. Four candles, matching the hue of each throne’s cushions, were placed to the left of each ruler's throne. A black table runner made of cloud cotton stretched from Akita’s end to Willow’s. In the tables center laid a map, marking the locations of the countries or their respective portal.

Willow resumed her conversation with Victoria, their interactions were very friendly. Ezra’s disapproving gaze remained fixed on Willow, a glare that Willow was unfazed by.

Soon, the sound of an unfamiliar British voice drew nearer, accompanied by persistent whining. 

The approaching figures, two Wysterlings, emerging from the second set of stairs. The shorter Wysterling halted his complaining, noticing the stares he was receiving from those already present.

“Oh shit, there’s people here already? Do you lot have anything better to do? Why are you all here already?” The shorter one remarked. 

The smaller Wysterling possessed very dark purple skin and tolopea hair. His bangs fell over his right eye, and the left side of his head was shaved. Light orchid scalera framed violet eyes, while lighter scars streamed down his face and neck. Short mandibles poked out of his lower jaw, sharp teeth were revealed as the edges of his mouth opened, and long ears rested on his head. Curved horns protruded from the top of his head, and his thick, long tail featured a fan of fur at its end. He wore a white, medium-sleeved button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves, featuring a cutout in the chest that framed an Eye of Wystora resting within his chest. The eye displayed hues from cyprus to light green, with an intimidating black slit pupil. His long black pants complemented his attire, and he dressed himself with gold and silver jewelry with amethyst crystals, including snake bites, eyebrow piercings, earrings, bands, and bracelets. A crown crafted of gold, wrapped around his head, adorned with amethyst jewels.

The taller Wysterling stood silently, his tail flicking in agitation.

Victoria rose from her seat and initiated conversation to break the awkward silence. “Hello, I’m Empress Victoria Quin of The Inferno Empire. It’s nice to meet you, Emperor Soetsu,” she said, offering a respectful bow to his ruling.

“Bloody hell, that son of a bitch,” The shorter Wystering muttered with a scowl. “Yeah no, it’s Emperor Soup, first off. That royal dickhead you’ve been meeting with can’t ever listen.” He sighed. “And yeah, it’s a pleasure…”

The bitterness in his tone was palpable as Victoria took her seat, leaving an air of unease in the room. 

“Soup, huh? Sounds familiar, perhaps a kind of food. Ha, typical,” Willow chimed in, their tone tinged with mockery. They huffed, raising a brow at the noticeable height difference and continued, “Seems like some got the downside of the genetics, eh? It’s something you and Shorty over there have in common.” Willow gestured towards Akita before trailing off, her attention drawn to the small fox poking its head from her lap.

Soup let out an exasperated sigh, muttering under his breath too low to decipher. His eyes narrowed, shooting piercing glares in Willow's direction.

Akita, sensing the growing tension, intervened. He rose from his seat and addressed Soup. “My apologies, for any miscommunication, Soup. Soetsu was the name we were told, we’re more than willing to use your preferred name,” Akita said, bowing respectfully. “I’m Akita Hawk, Warden of The Republic of Euphoria.” His introduction seemed to lessen some of the room’s tension.

With impatience evident, Soup responded curtly, “Yeah. Cool. I’m the Emperor of Amethium. Now is this everyone? Can we get this gathering thing started yet? I’d rather head home as soon as possible. This shit already seems dreadfully boring.”

Willow scoffed. “No, can't you see some chairs are empty? Or is that height getting to you? Two more leaders will be joining us.” She remarked, plucking a bit of moss from their throne. “So much for new ruler,” They muttered under their breath. Stretched her wings briefly, Willow then folded them down, redirecting their attention elsewhere.

Soup’s irritation boiled over, and he hissed, “Are you always a dick? This meeting is for rulers, isn’t it? Don’t you have an empire that should be worshiping you right now, Goddess Willow?” His ears pinned back, expressing his frustration openly.

Willow, seemingly unfazed, retorted with a sly tone, “What's the matter? Are you scared? Aren’t Wysterling meant to be big and scary? Then again, grumpy there looks more Wysterling than you do. He might even make a better emperor.”

Soup's growl intensified, it became more distorted, and the air around him chilled as his irritation grew apparent.

“Your majesty, I would suggest you calm down. Starting a conflict isn’t ideal for the Empire, with a Demi-god nonetheless,” The taller one finally interjected.

“Whatever!” Soup huffed, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact as he plopped down on his throne.

For the next few minutes, hushed conversations happened among those seated near each other.

Until, Soup spoke, in his typically loud manner. “So what exactly are the candles for?” 

“The candles represent each country,” Akita explained.

“So why aren’t they melting, except for that one?” Soup pointed to the yellow candles near Willow.

“Well, each set of candles are enchanted. They remain lit and don’t melt as long as a country stands and its people are alive. That’s why everyone’s candles, except the yellow ones, burn brightly.”

“Okay, so why is the yellow one still burning?”

“While the Arcanium Republic is destroyed, magic users still exist throughout the world. As long as they’re alive, the candles will never fully burn out.”

“Weird,” Soup remarked before returning to whatever he was doing before.

The room again fell into a stifling silence until the fluttering of wings disrupted the silence. Two figures landed on the edge behind Akita, with the taller shapeshifter shifting away his wings. They proceeded to their dark prismarine seats.

The moth shapeshifter, with a mild French accent, greeted everyone energetically. “Hey, everyone! How are you all doing? Me and Raven aren’t late, are we?” He asked.

“Aero and Raven, it's nice to see you! And no, you made it just in time,” Akita replied cheerfully.

Aero’s hair, a luscious shade of mulberry with grey lightly spread throughout his hair, cascaded in wavy locks, with a portion tied into a bun. He bore the features of a Luna moth, complete with antenna and ethereal wings. Dressed in a ruffled navy shirt embellished with rose and floral patterns, his lighter blue pants harmonized with his attire. Knee-high black boots added a touch of regal charm to his outfit, while his folded wings draped like a flowing cape behind him. His eyes shimmered in a pistachio hue, a striking contrast to the chestnut skin graced by the white fur along his neck. Atop his head, a golden crown rested just before his antenna, a symbol of his imperial stature. 

Raven, on the other hand, had a slightly darker complexion than Aero’s. His dreadlocks, resembled the rich tones of rosewood, mostly gathered into a neat ponytail. Markings akin to a red panda adorned his body. His attire consisted of a black Sir Jones Frock coat paired with brown pants, perfectly complementing his coat color. His shoes matched in the same elegant shade. His pointed ears and the presence of a big, red, bushy, cream-ringed tail highlighted his unique features. Soft, thick fur adorned his face, chest and arms, keeping him warm upon the mountain. 

As Aero glanced around the two unfamiliar Amethians caught his attention, he extended a warm greeting, “Why hello! You must be the new Amethium Emperor! Very nice to meet you! I’m Emperor Aero Reign of The Spiralis Empire.” With a polite bow, Aero took his seat, while Raven, silent but respectful, also bowed and settled into his chair. 

Soup, seemingly unimpressed, rolled his eyes with his head in hand and muttered a begrudging acknowledgment. “My Nye, Yeah, nice to meet you. Though I really don’t want to be here, so don’t expect me to overflow with joy.” He snapped,  waving his hands sarcastically.

Aero, taken aback, fell silent.

“Well, shall we start then?” Akita proposed.

“But Rowan and Amelia aren’t here. Shouldn’t we wait for them?” Victoria inquired.

“Well, yes, but those two are always late. We’ve started without them before; this time should be no different,” Akita replied.

Raven sighed and added, “We did warn them to be on time. It’s their fault for being late.”

“Is that a yes to starting, then?” Soup impatiently interjected.

  Before Akita could respond, Willow jumped in, “You’re just awfully bitchy, aren’t you?” A taunting grin rising on their face.

Soup, baring his teeth, growled and began to exhibit signs of agitation.“You’re such a-”

“Let’s just start!” Akita intervened, attempting to diffuse the mounting tension.

“Whatever!” Soup slouched in his seat, arms crossed.

Victoria and Ezra then stood up to commence sharing the recent events and news of The Inferno Empire.

[11:06]

   “Sir, we’re undoubtedly late.”

“That isn’t of concern right now, let’s just get there.”

The two individuals ascended the steps of the mountain until they reached the building. They walked behind Willow and Victoria, taking their seats between Victoria and Akita. Aero paused in his talking upon noticing their arrival.

Aero set his papers aside and warmly greeted, “Hello, Rowan! It’s lovely to see you! Where’s Amelia? And who have you brought with you?” 

Rowans, standing tall at an impressive 6’4” for a human, possessed pristine pale skin. His black, shaggy, wolf-cut hair appeared both messy yet neat and clean styled, with semi-curtain bangs typically loosely pushed back atop his head, held in place by mousse. His facial hair included sideburns, a small chin beard, and a thin mustache. Streaks of grey gracefully accentuated his hair, while faint eye bags rested beneath scarlet red eyes. Rowan wore a black priest's attire with yellow accents and a blue stole adorned with the star of Amani. A golden necklace featuring the symbol of Amani’s star hung from his neck, and multiple golden and silver rings decorated his hands, with even a golden tooth to complete his ensemble.

Rowan briefly glanced at the onlookers before directing his attention to Aero. “Hello, Aero. Nice to see you too. I’m sorry for my tardiness—“

Soup interjected, “Who the hell are these guys? Are they the late ones we’ve been waiting for?”

Rowan calmly addressed Soup’s question, disregarding his blunt manner. “You must be the new Emperor of The Amethium Empire. You seem shorter than any other Wystering I’ve seen; is that a genetic problem, perhaps?” Rowan cleared his throat. “Regardless, you have a lot to live up to, and your attitude isn’t ideal for an emperor. You're just as unprofessional as everyone else here, so you’ll fit right in.”

Soup retorted sharply, showing his aversion to Rowan “You're a jackass just like that one,” gestured towards Willow, indicating he held no fondness for either of them.

Willow, from her relaxed position, chimed in lazily, “Hmmmm? Am I needed right now?” After a quick explanation from Victoria, Willow refocused her attention.

Rowan continued to press the issue, “You have an awfully foul mouth.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Akita, once again, spoke up firmly, breaking some tension. “You two calm down; quit going for each other's throats and let’s continue.”

Rowan persisted, “Well, I’ll continue what I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.”

Akita intervened, signaling for Rowan to cease his verbal sparring. “Rowan, knock it off.”

Apologizing for his tardiness, and Amelia's absence, Rowan introduced the person seated beside him, “This is Elliot, he’s my right hand.”

Elliot has distinctive brown hair, neatly combed and reaching down to his shoulders, with a neat ponytail securing most of it. His piercing blue eyes contrasted beautifully with his lighter skin tone. He stood at 5’11”, slightly shorter than Rowan. Elliot wore attire similar to Rowan’s, although less ornate, he didn’t wear a stole. He sported a silver necklace featuring Amani’s star symbol.

Elliot greeted the assembly with a bow, expressing his apologies for their lateness, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I am terribly sorry for our lateness. I had some things I needed to do before we left, and our trip here isn't exactly short.”

Akita observed Elliot for a moment before leaning towards Timberlain. Other rulers greeted Elliot.

“Hey, Timberlain,” Akita whispered.

Timberlain replied in a hushed tone, “Yes, what’s up?” 

Akita voiced his curiosity, “Has Rowan ever mentioned having a second-in-command?” 

Timberlain responded with a sigh, “No, he hasn’t. I suppose he never saw fit to mention it? But then again, it’s Rowan, and he tends to keep things to himself.”

Akita shrugged. “Fair, still it’s just odd,”

“Well, Rowan’s an odd one.” 

Their conversation was ended by a quiet giggle from Akita, but his mirth quickly faded when he noticed Elliot’s puzzled expression. In response, Akita offered an awkward smile and waved, while a Timberlain simply greeted Elliot with a wave.

Victoria, seeing an opportunity to proceed, urged, “Well, if all is settled now. Aero, please continue,”

“Of course!” Aero cleared his throat, rose from his seat and retrieved his papers once more. “As I was saying, there have been multiple reports of something lurking around the lower district, visiting each and every village within. Reports say that a heavy fog sets in before it appears, only emerging during the fog.” 

Most in the room wore expressions of concern or shock. 

“It has laid waste to countless shops, monuments, and even some castles. It has attacked almost every kingdom in the lower district, and it began months before it reached the villages outside the lower district. It has even targeted underwater villages and kingdoms. Its pattern is unpredictable, and we don’t know what its goal is, but many on the council believe it might be searching for something. We all fear that if it’s seeking something and doesn’t find it, it will tear the whole country apart and move on to the next.” Aero directed his gaze towards Akita and Timberlain. “Akita, Timberlain, I would advise you to keep a watchful eye in the coming months. This thing has shown aggression towards anyone who tries to stop it. So far, it has killed 267 people only injured 89. Please keep your country on high alert.” Aero’s expression was grave.

Akita, after sharing a concerned glance with Timberlain, turned his attention back to Aero. “Thank you for the warning, Aero. But may I ask if there’s any description of this thing causing terror?”

“I’m sorry, but no,” replied Raven. “Those who survived couldn’t see through the fog to identify anything. All they’ve reported is hearing distorted hisses and roars.” 

“Unfortunate, indeed. We’ll be vigilant. Thank you again for the warning.” Akita said with gratitude.

Raven nodded, acknowledging their understanding.

“Of course,” Aero continued after shuffling through a few documents and other papers. “That’s the last of what I have to share today.” Aero and Raven took their seats and set aside their papers.

Akita and Timberlain stood up, ready to present their updates. Akita initiated, “To begin, I don’t have much to share today, as there’s mostly minor news not worth mentioning. One of the significant developments is that the next election is approaching next month.”

Victoria, with a touch of sadness in her voice, inquired, “You’ll be running again this year, won’t you?” 

Akita smiled, though it carried a hint of uncertainty, “Yes, I will be, but the competition is tough this year, so there’s no guarantee of my return. Nevertheless, I’ll do my best.” He sighed, “I do have some troubling news to discuss, but I’ll let Timberlain take the lead, as he knows more information on this matter.”

Akita handed Timberlain a folder, who then spoke up, “A week ago, a farming village was attacked and burned down, with no survivors. We managed to apprehend the ones responsible, a group of six, consisting of two humans and four shapeshifters. We are yet to discover the motive behind this heinous act, as they refuse to speak. Our investigation is ongoing, as this could pose a significant threat. To prevent further attacks of this nature, we’ve bolstered the guard of other farming villages. Currently, we have no information about the attackers, aside from the fact that they all wore a peculiar pin.”

“The pin he’s talking about is this.” Akita retrieved the mentioned pin from his pocket and held it up for all to see. It bore a blood-red circle with two golden rings and a silver wolf head embedded. “No one on my council knows anything about this pin. Have any of you seen it before?” Akita inquired.

Aero was the first to respond, “I haven’t seen anything like it. Raven?”

“No, I haven’t either.”

Victoria requested, “May I see it?” Akita nodded, tossing the pin to her. She examined it briefly and showed it to Ezra. After a careful examination, Victoria shook her head. “I’m sorry, but neither of us have seen this before.”

Akita expressed his frustration with a groan, then turned to Rowan and Soup. “Rowan, Soup, have either of you seen this pin?”

Rowan replied, “No, I’ve never seen a pin of this style.” 

Soup’s response was more colorful, “The fuck, hell no I’ve never seen it.”

Akita then addressed Willow, “Willow, I don’t mean to bother you, but may I ask you something?”

“Hm? Go ahead.” Willow’s ears perked up.

“I mean no disrespect saying this, but considering you’ve lived for thousands of years, have you come across this pin or its symbol before?”

Willow, with a playful grin, teased, “Calling me old, are you? I’m offended.” They chuckled, while Akita stammered in denial. “Hahaha! I’m pulling your leg curly, relax and stop being so formal, it’s rather tiresome. But sure, let me see the pin.”

Victoria tossed the pin to Willow, who inspected it briefly before responding, “In all my years, I’ve never encountered a pin like this nor its symbol. I can’t provide any information about it.” They nonchalantly tossed the pin back to Akita. 

“Well, thank you anyway, Goddess Willow.” Akita expressed his gratitude, despite the disappointing response.

“Yeah, no problem, curly,” Willow responded casually.

With the questions regarding the pin concluded, Akita moved on to the next agenda. “Well, that was really all of what I had to share. Most of the other updates have remained consistent since our last meeting. Rowan, if you please.” As Akita and Timberlain took their seats, Rowan and Elliot stood to address the assembly.

“Well then,” Rowan started.

—[13:39]—

   “…and that concludes all the reports from the last month for the Amethian Empire,” stated the taller Wysterling, setting down the binder he held.

“Thank you for the update, Oka. It seems the Amethian Empire is very well off!” Aero said with enthusiasm.

Oka stood imposingly at a towering height of 8’5”, towering over everyone in the room. His skin displayed a palette of black and grey, while his hair featured streaks of black and white. His mandible-like mouth opened similarly to Soup’s, and his long, thick tail had fanned fur at its end, mirroring the hues of his hair. Unlike Soup, Oka had shorter horns, resembling small peaks protruding from his head. His left eye was made of shades black, while his right eye was an array of white hues. He wore a black medium-sleeved shirt and pants, with fingerless gloves to match his attire. Over this outfit, he donned purplish armor, consisting of shoulder plates, chest and back piece, leg armor, forearm guards, a headpiece, and a segment to cover part of his tail. Leather straps secured the pieces together and to his body, adorned with amethyst accents. Notably, a cutout in his shirt and chestplate framed his unique Eye of Wystora, which was more desaturated than Soup’s.

Oka glanced at Aero. “Indeed it is Emperor Ae—“

However, Soup, eager to leave, interrupted, “Everyone’s done sharing now, can we leave already?” 

Oka shot an annoyed glare at Soup, he sighed, taking a seat.

Rowan, growing frustrated with Soup’s impatience, retorted, “Why are you in such a rush to leave? It’s your duty as an emperor to attend these meetings.” 

“Nye, you jackass, can’t you just be quiet?” Soup was sweating profusely.

“To a Wysterling not accustomed to the overworld, it’s very hot. On the mountain it’s a bit cooler so it’s more just uncomfortably hot,” Oka explained, intervening on Soup’s behalf.

“Yeah, it’s really fucking hot. Can we leave?” Soup used his hands to fan himself.

“Well, does anyone have anything else to share?” Victoria inquired.

The unanimous response, verbal or gestural, was disagreement. Before anyone else could speak, the Amethian Emperor teleported away in magenta and purple wisps, swiftly followed by Oka, who disappeared in hues of black and white.

“They’re certainly something…” Victoria shook her head.

“Those two are the epitome of misery,” Elliot sneered.

“Misery loves its company,” Raven remarked.

Rowan decided it was time to depart. “Well, there’s still business we need to attend to today. Better make our way back to Xalos.” 

“Yes, sir, but give me a moment. I’ll meet you at the mountain’s base,” Elliot requested. 

Rowan nodded, heading down the mountain. Elliot remained seated, sorting through a few papers. Aero hastened to catch up with Rowan as he descended. Meanwhile, Raven and Timberlain engaged in conversation. Victoria spoke with Willow, while Ezra, displeased by the two previous exchanges, huffing he walked over to Akita.  

“The thing causing terror around Spiralis, has it attacked Tucan yet?” Timberlain asked.

“No, not yet, but with the current pattern, it might soon. Why do you ask?” Raven appeared concerned.

“My mother and siblings live in Tucan, and I worry what might happen. My brother tends to take matters into his own hands.” 

“Well, what are their names? I’ll keep an eye on them, and if anything occurs, I’ll send you a letter.”

“Really? Thank you, that would be greatly appreciated.” Timberlain provided Raven with the names. “My mother’s name is Alissya Hawk, my brother is Corey Hawk, and my sister is Belfry Hawk.”

Raven's ears perked up. “Does your family, by any chance, own Hawks Express Delivery?”

“Yes, that’s right. My mother is the owner of the company. They deliver all over the empire, even beyond its borders.” 

“That’s really cool. I use Hawks Express Delivery for all my mail. Okay, I’ll keep tabs on them. Let’s hope we can resolve this before it escalates to that point.”

“Of course, and thank you once again.” 

“Anytime, Timberlain.” Raven glanced at Akita, “Not to bring down the mood, I have to ask, is Akita alright?”

“What do you mean?” Timberlain turned his gaze to Akita, who was engrossed in conversation with Ezra.

“He seems different, not as cheerful as he usually is. You must have noticed.”

“I’ve noticed he’s a bit more stressed, but there’s a lot happening lately.”

“That’s true, I just hope he’s okay .” Raven turned to Timberlain, his concern evident. “I hope both of you are alright.”

“Thank you.” Timberlain sighed, running his hands through his hair. “We should get going now; it’s a long journey home.”

Timberlain joined Akita, who was still chatting with Ezra. “Akita, it’s best we start heading back. The trip is long, and we don’t want to get caught out here too late.”

“Ah, right. Sorry to cut our conversation short, Ezra.” Akita hugged Ezra, who reciprocated.

“Don’t worry about it. I understand your trip is much longer than mine. Both of you travel safely.”

“We will.” Timberlain and Akita were about to bid their farewells to everyone when Elliot stopped them.

“Apologies for the interruption, but I don’t believe we had a proper introduction earlier.” Elliot gracefully bowed as he spoke, his voice polite, “I’m Elliot, as you’ve already heard. May I ask about both of your names?” 

“Oh, that’s right. I’m Akita Hawk, Warden of The Republic of Euphoria,” Akita responded, reciprocating the bow with respect.

“I’m Timberlain, one of the shapeshifter councilmen of The Republic of Euphoria,” Timberlain introduced himself, opting not to bow, as it felt unnecessary.

“Akita, Timberlain, it’s been a pleasure meeting you both. I won't hold you any longer. Safe travels!”

“You too!” Akita waved warmly. With their final exchanges complete, Timberlain and Akita left the gathering.

—[17:23]—

   Akita and Timberlain strolled along the path towards home, the conversation flowing between them.

“Finally, we’re back,” Akita’s voice carried a palpable sense of relief.

��Indeed, want me to handle dinner tonight?” Timberlain offered.

“Nope, tonight's my turn to cook. You can relax; I've got it covered,” Akita replied, patting his pockets for the house key.

Timberlain observed Akita, deep in thought. After a moment, Akita noticed Timberlain’s stare as he struggled with the key and lock. “You're staring, Lain. Everything alright?”

Timberlain snapped out of his thoughts and quickly averted his gaze. “Uh, sorry, yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Mhm, sure.” Akita finally managed to open the door and walked inside, Timberlain followed suit and closed the door behind him.

“Kids, we're home!” Akita’s voice rang through the house as removed his shoes by the door.

The sound of small footsteps grew louder, and soon Atticus and Yuri came rushing to greet them, their faces lit up with excitement at seeing Akita and Timberlain return home. 

“Daddy! Dad! Your back!” Atticus squealed, hopping into Akita’s arms.

“Papa! Dad!” Yuri chimed in and leaped into Timberlain’s arms.

Dutch barked and bounded from the living room to position himself between Akita’s legs.

“Hey, welcome back home,” Lucille's voice reached Akita’s

 attention through the chorus of giggles.

“Hello, Lucille. How was your day?” Akita asked as he handed Atticus over to Timberlain.

Timberlain took charge of Atticus and Yuri, leading them towards their room. Dutch followed closely behind.

“It was fine, nothing out of the ordinary,” Lucille replied from the kitchen while she fetched some water. 

“Also where’s your brother?” Akita wandered into the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

“He’s out with friends. He said he’d try and be back by seven.”

“Well, as long as he’s home for dinner,” Akita remarked with a smile.

—[19:07]—

   Akita’s attention shifted towards the front door as it unlocked and swung open, revealing Lucifer. A warm smile crossed Akita’s face, and he turned his attention back to preparing dinner.

“Hello, Lucifer. How was your day?” Akita questioned.

Lucifer nonchalantly replied, “Uh, it was fine. School was as boring as usual. After that, a few friends and I hung out.” He dropped his backpack by the front door.

Akita continued cooking, nodding in understanding. “That sounded fun. Come on over.” 

Lucifer joined Akita in the kitchen, standing beside him. “What are you making?”

“Salmon and pork with alfredo pasta and roasted asparagus.”

Lucifer's eyes lit up with curiosity. “Can I help?” 

“Absolutely, but first, please wash your hands.” Akita gestured towards the sink.

Lucifer eagerly complied, washed his hands while his tail wagged energetically against the floor, and he tapped his foot repeatedly with anticipation.

Akita couldn’t help but smile at Lucifer’s enthusiasm. “Here, can you…”

—[22:46]—

—[Akita POV]—

   I sat alone in my office, the late hours of the evening stretched on. The house was quiet; the kids and    Söl-leks were peacefully asleep. I diligently worked on the paperwork before me, a focused determination to get it done driving me. Completing it tonight would grant me some relief tomorrow. I hated my job, and the constant stress it brought, but I had chosen it, and I had to live with that decision.

Then, unexpectedly, a voice broke my concentration.

“Akita.” 

I jumped in my seat, startled by the sudden interruption. Timberlain had silently entered the room, standing behind me. I hadn’t even noticed him.

I turned in my seat to face him, my heart still racing. “My Amani. Timberlain, you scared me,” I admitted.

His expression carried a weight of concern that sent a shiver down my spine. Something was clearly amiss. 

“Can we talk?” Timberlain’s voice wavered with a mix of emotions.

I couldn’t ignore the worry in his eyes. “Of course. What’s wrong?” I asked, growing increasingly anxious.

Timberlain retrieved a broken pen from his pocket. It was my favorite fountain pen, the one I had tossed into the trash. Confusion gnawed at me. Why did he have it?

“Where did you find that?” I questioned, my voice uneasy.

“I found it in your trash this morning. I knew this pen meant a lot to you, so I was concerned when I found it broken.” Timberlain handed me the pen, his eyes searching mine for answers.

My mind raced for a plausible explanation that didn’t involve sharing the details of what truly happened. “It was an accident, and I threw it away. Thank you for your concern though. I plan to get another one tomorrow.” I placed the pen on my desk, avoiding his gaze.

“An accident? Seriously?” Timberlain arms crossed, and his frustration became evident. He didn’t seem convinced by my words. 

“Yes, I’m serious. It was an accident. I was upset and broke it. So, please, just drop it.” I replied, my voice strained.

A heavy silence hung between us, neither of us eager to continue the conversation. A knock on the office room door interrupted our tense moment.

“Come in!” I called out, wondering who else was awake at this late hour.

Lucifer slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside. “Hey, Dad, can you help me with…” He trailed off as he saw Timberlain in the room. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, Lucifer, we were just talking,” Timberlain assured him, lowering his arms.

I smiled warmly to reassure our son. “What did you need help with, kiddo?”

“My horn chipped, and I’m having trouble sharpening it,” Lucifer explained, pointing to the top of his horn where a piece had broken off.

“Sure thing, kiddo. Give me a moment, and I’ll meet you in the living room, okay?” I stood up from my chair.

“Okay!” Lucifer left the room, closing the door behind him.

Once we were alone again, I decided to confide in Timberlain. “Look I’m sorry. I broke the pen about a week ago during our failed attempt to gather information from the people who destroyed the village. I was angry and upset, and I broke it.”

Timberlain remained silent for a while before he sighed. “I’m sorry, too. I just wanted to make sure you were all right because I knew that pen meant a lot to you. I couldn’t imagine it breaking for no reason, so I was concerned.”

I nodded in understanding. “I’m doing better now. It’s still a troubling situation, but I’ll manage.”

“Okay. Don’t worry; we’ll figure this out eventually.” Timberlain came closer and embraced me, and I returned the hug.

“I’ll come to bed after I help Lucifer. I really don’t want to deal with more paperwork tonight.”

Timberlain chuckled. “All right, Akita.” 

We parted ways, heading down the hallway in different directions. I entered the living room, where Lucifer sat with a bowl of water and his oil stone on the coffee table. He was picking at the scales on his arms.

I settled onto the grey couch behind him and greeted him with a smile. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey, Dad.”

Taking the oil stone, I moistened it slightly and began rubbing it against the tip of his horn, curious to hear how he had chipped it.

“So how did this happen?” I inquired, my curiosity piqued. Lucifer was typically meticulous about his horns, and he took great pride in them.

“Well, I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I think it was when a few friends and I were goofing around and playfully pushing each other,” Lucifer explained.

“Just some roughhousing, then?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

————

We chatted about random topics while I sharpened his horn. I made sure not to overdo it; I didn’t want any accidents to happen. 

“There, all done,” I declared, setting the oil stone and cloth aside. 

“Thank you, Dad!” Lucifer expressed his gratitude and headed towards the hallway.

“Of course, kiddo. Now, off to bed,” I directed him, pointing to the hallway.

“Okay, good night!” He vanished down the corridor.

“Good night!”

I decided to linger here for a little while longer. I had no regrets about the choices I’d made. I couldn’t imagine life any other way. Despite its occasional chaos, it was perfect to me.

The people I had met, my friends, my family — this life is truly perfect.

Rofm Cursed Blessings- Masterlist Next

[citizenship-project-2023]

A Voice for Men

A Voice for Men is an online publication founded in 2009 by Paul Elam. Based in Houston, Texas.

Their editorial position is profoundly anti-feminist and misogynistic in nature, claiming women to be lesser and feminists being outright misandrists.

According to the ‘Voice for Men’ website, their main objectives are:

“To eliminate gynocentrism and male disposability.”

“To resolve certain issues facing men and boys.”

“To achieve equality of opportunity for all. To oppose enforcement of gender roles.”

Their website details that they “reject enforcement of gender roles, not the roles themselves.” and “this includes roles generally regarded as traditional in which the man works and the woman keeps house and raises the children. How individuals wish to live their lives is a matter for themselves. Ultimately the men’s rights movement places the onus on individuals to take responsibility for their own choices and actions.” Going on to link the definition of “Agency” on ‘Wiki4Men’ as further information.

“Agency” is defined on the site as “ the notion that a person has control over and responsibility for their own actions.”Then goes on to state that “Society tends to emphasise the agency of men and deny the agency of women.”

https://wiki4men.com/wiki/Agency

“It became clear that they treat women the same way that white nationalist groups treat minorities—by demeaning them and describing all women as a group as lesser beings,” intelligence project director Heidi Beirich said. “Often, the language is just awful, calling all women bitches and worse. So this year, in the two cases where what we were tracking functioned as groups, we added them to the list.”

Men’s rights communities often overlap with other hateful communities, such as neo-Nazi groups and white nationalists. They were also at the forefront of the #GamerGate attacks on prominent women in gaming and media, including Feminist Frequency’s Anita Sarkeesian and developer Zoe Quinn. In 2014, a mass shooting in Isla Vista was carried out by a man who espoused male supremacist talking points.

A Voice for Men and other Men’s rights groups, foster and feed into dangerous narratives of hypermasculinity. In their glorification of traditional toughness, and in portraying women as oppressive figures and themselves as merely fighting back for their right to be men, violence is not only commodified but also celebrated. In far too many cases, the results of inflated hypermasculinity escalate into violence—just consider the correlation between gun violence and domestic abuse. And on an individual, less grandiose scale, men’s rights groups also significantly attack survivors of sexual assault by leading attacks on their credibility, and painting them as harmful to men.

Founded in 2009 by Paul Elam, A Voice for Men and its podcast “An Ear for Men'' has combined men’s rights issues and rabidly misogynistic and violent rhetoric. Elam is famously known for declaring October to be “Bash a Violent B---- month.” He later called the piece satirical but has been republishing it every October with equally violent introductions. He has claimed that were he to serve on a jury for a men accused of rape, he would automatically declare the defendant not guilty, regardless of the facts of the case. 

In 2011, A Voice for Men launched Register-Her, a website where individuals posted images of the women they thought should be put in prison. It included women deemed to have falsely accused men of rape or domestic violence, others for having protested men’s rights activist gatherings, or those Elam simply disagreed with. The effect of Register-Her was an explosion of online harassment. After finding herself targeted, feminist writer Jessica Valenti was forced to leave her home in fear for her safety. The website has since been taken down. https://www.splcenter.org/fighting-hate/extremist-files/ideology/male-supremacy 

https://msmagazine.com/2018/02/26/southern-poverty-law-center-will-track-male-supremacy-groups/

[thegnmsolution]

China's Stunning Revolt: Their Lockdowns vs Our Lockdowns

China's Stunning Revolt: Their Lockdowns vs Our Lockdowns China's regime broke the ice in 2020 with lockdowns---now the ice is breaking them  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Open in app or online China's Stunning Revolt: Their Lockdowns vs Our Lockdowns China's regime broke the ice in 2020 with lockdowns---now the ice is breaking them Jon Rappoport Nov 28 Save ▷  Listen The astounding revolt in China against the regime’s brutal COVID lockdown policy is exposing ALL nations’ lockdowns during the past two years. The only difference is the degree of brutality. China’s is the worst…but wasn’t Australia’s a close second? And what about the outright destruction of economies in Western nations? Fauci is America’s Xi Jinping. Loud and widespread support for the Chinese protesters is VITAL at this time. Make your voice heard! At the beginning of the “pandemic,” I wrote that the Chinese regime had broken the ice. They locked down three large cities overnight and provided the model for all nations. The WHO and the World Economic Forum and Fauci and Bill Gates jumped on the bandwagon and praised the China lockdowns. For the first time in human history, we were witnessing the large-scale medical imprisonment of populations. Italy followed suit, and the rest of Europe joined in. I wrote that Italy was under the extraordinary economic influence of China. The regime had poured a great deal of money into Italy—and it was entirely possible that the regime had exerted pressure on the Italian government to suddenly declare its own lockdown of the country. Then China reopened its economy while Western nations were still suffering under lockdowns. But then the Chinese regime played one card too many on its home front: new lockdowns. And NOW we’re seeing the result: growing revolts in China. The people are fed up, exhausted, driven beyond all patience, desperate. On American soil, we have many Communists and China sympathizers who want the US to mirror China in all respects. The present revolts in China are making them very nervous. It’s called EXPOSURE OF CRIMES. Censorship, Surveillance State, official fraudulent science, imprisonment, bogus PCR test, population control, mandated destructive vaccines… It’s all come to a head in China. Some of the protesters in the streets are holding up blank sheets of paper. This signifies the government’s crackdown on freedom of speech through censorship. Protesters are also calling for regime change. Subscribed As of this writing—7AM, 11/28—there is nothing from the White House. No statement of support for the Chinese people. This is telling. This is called a clue. The White House doesn’t know what the hell to do. If it supports the China revolt, it supports freedom from lockdowns. It acknowledges the insanity of the Chinese regime policies. And by implication, it indicts itself and its own insane COVID policies. In an even larger landscape—called Globalism—the China revolts signify a rejection of elite plans to use the fake pandemic as a pretext for advancing the technocratic Great Reset. The Globalists are hoping the China revolts are put down and go into the memory hole as a minor event. That would be tragic. What is happening right now in China could be called true populism. Populism expressed in the face of State firepower. Connecting just one obvious dot—the protests in China resemble the huge protests against government COVID authority that took place in Europe last year. With one difference. The Chinese government is far more brutal than any European government. Are you hearing any major statements about the China revolt from Western governments? Definitive statements of support for the Chinese people? How about this? “The Chinese government is guilty of major crimes, and so are we.” Don’t let geography fool you. What’s happening now WAY OVER THERE IN CHINA has tremendous implications for life HERE. If we see it. Oh, and Hello, Mr. Trudeau. Are you down on your knees praying that the Chinese regime you ADORE is handling the protests quickly, so they go away, and you don’t look like the predator you are? HOW ABOUT REGIME CHANGE IN CANADA? After all, isn’t it obvious Trudeau wants to make Canada into China? Isn’t that exactly what he’s been driving at for years now? Dear People of Canada: Isn’t it obvious that your esteemed leader isn’t Canadian bacon? He’s always been Xi Jinping pork. -- Jon Rappoport Like Comment Share © 2022 Jon Rappoport 548 Market Street PMB 72296, San Francisco, CA 94104 Unsubscribe Get the app Start writing Read the full article

[rosenkilde42hartvig]

hermes crocodile birkin 19

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This Birkin is in Jaune Ambre and Craie togo leather with brushed gold hardware and has tonal stitching, front flap, two straps with center toggle closure, clochette with lock and two keys, and double rolled handles. This Birkin is of Nata swift with gold hardware and features tonal stitching, entrance flap, two straps with heart toggle closure, clochette with lock and two keys, and double rolled handles. The interior is lined with Nata chevre and has one zip pocket... This Birkin is in Craie togo leather with palladium hardware and has tonal stitching, front flap, two straps with center toggle closure, clochette with lock and two keys, and double rolled handles. The inside is lined with Craie chevre and has one zip pocket with... The bag is locked by closing the highest flaps over buckle loops, wrapping the buckle straps, or closing the lock on the entrance hardware. In newer years, Hermès has added a second number under the Hermes stamp of the lock. The numbers for locks could be the similar for hundreds of locks, as they are batch numbers in which the locks have been made. The bag additionally comes in a wide selection of hides corresponding to calf leather-based, lizard, and ostrich. Among the most costly used to be saltwater crocodile skin and baggage with smaller scales value more than those with bigger scales. This shiny bag fetched a value of $1.seventy two million Hong Kong dollars during an auction of Christie’s in Hong Kong back in 2015. As purveyors of final luxury, what makes Hermes purses so illustrious is the exclusive vary of exotic skins and leathers they use for their pieces. wikipedia hermes crocodile birkin Sourced specifically from widespread locations corresponding to Zimbabwe and Australia, Hermes only use the best material to create the world’s most bespoke and opulent luggage. Here at Bags of Luxury, there are an array of Hermes bags and equipment made from exotic pores and skin out there for purchase. So read our information to seek out out which is the proper skin for you. The "uncommon and exceptional" purse, made in 2010, is common with 18 carat white gold and an estimated 10 carats of good, colorless diamonds and crafted with Nile River-sourced crocodile, in accordance with the public sale house. In 1837, German-born French entrepreneur Thierry Hermès opened a saddle and harness purveyor in Paris. Gradually, the home prolonged into accessories and luggage for its riders, and today, in paying homage to its origins, the family-run luxury model resurfaces horse motifs in everything from clothes and modernist jewellery to pillows and purses. Covered in crocodile leather and glowing with diamonds, the extraordinarily rare Hermes Himalaya Birkin bag is the “holy grail” of handbag collections, based on auction house Christie’s. While this leather is quite versatile, it is sturdier in construction and offers structure. Most Birkins are available this type of leather, and the price tag is usually lower than other supplies. Alternatively, if you are on the lookout for a brighter color, this dazzling Birkin Rose Sheherazade is a sound investment into luxury. Made with premium porosus pores and skin, its fine scale patterns and shiny end will definitely grab the attention of passers-by with its vibrant pink tone, making it a really unique piece. Meanwhile, if you’ve decided you have to have a Hermes crocodile purse and likewise want a inimitable shade to match, this extraordinary Kelly Amethyste is just for you. This deep purple shade is calming and wondrous and looks unimaginable with its shiny end. During that 1984 flight, Jane Birkin's belongings fell out of her purse, inspiring Jean-Louis Dumas to create a prime quality, sturdy, and functional bag for the singer/actress. The design of the Hermès Birkin was inspired by the Haut à Courroies, a handbag in Hermès' catalog from 1900. The Hermès Birkin is considered to be the pinnacle of luxury handbags — made to order and constructed by hand constructed of prime of the range leather, lizard, and ostrich. Due to the time it takes to assemble every bag, the Hermès Birkin is constantly in excessive demand while supply is restricted. Getting your arms on a Hermès Birkin bag instantly from the posh house is a process shrouded in mystery and intrigue.