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nevermindirah · 4 years

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I've been drafting and redrafting this meta post for weeks now. It's about to be 5781 and my country that was founded on settler colonial genocide and slavery and a deeply flawed but fierce attachment to democracy might go full dictatorship in about 6 weeks and it's time for me to post this thing.

All our immortals are warriors, all have been traumatized by war. But only three of them died their first deaths as soldiers in imperial armies. This fandom has already produced gallons of meta on Nicky dealing with his shit, because Joe would not fuck with an unapologetic Crusader. But there's very rich stuff in Booker and Nile's experiences and the parallels and distinctions between them.

Nile was 11 when her dad was killed in action - that was 2005, meaning she and her dad both died in the same war that George W Bush started in very tenuous response to 9/11. Sure, Nile's dad could have died in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or in a training accident or in an off-the-books mission we won't know about for a hundred more years, but he died in the War on Terror all the same. I had to look it up to be sure because Obama "drew down" the Afghanistan war in his second term, but nope, we're still in this fucking thing that never should've happened in the first place. The US war in Afghanistan just turned 19 years old. A lot of real-life Americans have experiences like the Freemans, parents and children both dying in the same war we shouldn't be in.

I know a lot of people like Nile who join the US military not just because it's the only realistic way for them to pay for college or afford decent healthcare, but also because they have a family history of military service that's a genuine source of pride. Military service has been a way for Americans of color to be accepted by white Americans as "true Americans" - from today's Dreamers who Obama promised would earn protection from deportation by enlisting, to Filipino veterans of WW2 earning US citizenship that Congress then denied them for several decades, to slaves "earning" their freedom through service in the Union Army and in the Continental Army before it. As if freedom is a thing one should have to earn. Lots of Black Americans have the last name Freeman for lots of different escaping-slavery reasons, but it's possible that this specific reason is how Nile got her last name.

Dying in a war you know your country chose to instigate unnecessarily and that maybe you believe it shouldn't be waging is a very particular kind of trauma. It is a much deeper trauma when your military service, and your father's, and maybe generations of your ancestors', is a source of pride and access to resources for you but your sacrifice is nearly meaningless to the white supremacist system that deploys you. That kind of cognitive dissonance encourages a person to ignore their own feelings just so they can function. How do you wake up in the morning, how do you risk your life every day, how do you *kill other people* in a war that shouldn't be happening and that you shouldn't have to serve in just so that your country sees you as human?

We see Nile do her best to be a kind and well-mannered invader. Depending on your experience with US imperialism, Nile giving candy to kids and reminding her squad to be respectful is either heartwarming or very disturbing propaganda. We also see Nile clutching her cross necklace and praying. From the second Christianity arrived on this land it's been a tool of white supremacist assimilation and control, but like military service, it's a fucked-up but genuine source of pride and access to resources for many Americans whose pre-Columbian ancestors were not Christian, and it's a powerful source of comfort and resilience. This Jew who's had a lot of Spanish Inquisition nightmares would like to say for the record that it's not Jesus's fault that his big name fans are such shitty people.

Nile is a good person trying to do her best in a fucked-up world. "Her best" just radically changed. Her access to information on just how fucked up the world is has also just radically changed, because everything's so fucked up a person needs a lot of time to learn about it all and not only does she have centuries but she won't have to spend that time worrying about rent and healthcare and taxes, and because she now has Joe and Nicky and Andy's stories, and because she now has Copley's inside scoop on just what the fuck the CIA has been up to. Like, I want a fic where Copley tells Nile what was really behind the brass's decisions that led to her experiences on the ground in Afghanistan, that led to her father's death, but also I Do Not Want That.

Nile was 19 when Alicia Garza posted on Facebook that Black Lives Matter. She grew up in Chicago well before white people on Twitter were saying maybe police violence against Black people is a problem. She knows this is a deeply fucked up country, and she put on her Marine uniform and deployed with her team of mostly fellow women of color, and maybe she and Dizzy and Jay marched in the streets between deployments, maybe they texted each other when a white manarchist at a protest sneered at one of them for being a Marine. Nile's been busy surviving, and she knows some shit and she's seen some shit but she hasn't had much time to think about what it all means. Now she's got time. And Joe, Nicky, and Andy are willing to listen. (Is Copley willing to listen? I could see that going either way.)

Booker might also be willing to listen. The brilliant idea of cleaning up the rat Frenchman so that Nile can have millennia of emotional support and orgasms sent me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and holy shit do Booker and Nile have a lot of shared life experience as pawns of imperial wars. Obviously Booker is white and a man and that makes a very big difference. (Though G-d help me, Booker could be Jewish and France was knocking its Jews around like ping-pong balls in the 18th-19th centuries. Jewish Booker wouldn't make him any less white but it does add a shit ton of depth of common experience: military service as a way for your country to see you as a full member of society who matters, because who you are means that's not guaranteed.)

Booker was hanged for desertion from the army Napoleon sent to invade Russia as part of his quest to control all of Europe. We learn in the comics / this YouTube video that Booker was on his way to prison for forgery when he was offered military service instead of jail time. While we don't know how he felt about the choice beyond that he did choose soldier over inmate, it's unlikely he thought invading Russia was a great idea, given he tried to desert because Napoleon like a true imperialist dumbass didn't plan for how he was going to feed his army or keep them from freezing to death in fucking Russian winter.

I find it very interesting that the French Empire was at its largest right before invading Russia and fell apart completely within a few years. My country has been falling the fuck apart for a while now - see aforementioned War on Terror, growing extremes of economic stratification in the richest country in the world, abject refusal to meaningfully deal with climate change that US-based corporations hold the lion's share of blame for - but between Trump's abject refusal to meaningfully deal with the coronavirus and strong likelihood that he'll refuse to leave office even if a certain pathetic moderate I will hold my nose and vote for does manage to earn a majority of votes, ~y~i~k~e~s.

Our only immortals who have never known a world before modernity and nationalism happen to have been born of wars that were the beginning of the end for the imperialist democracies that raised them, and I think in the centuries to come that's going to give them some very interesting shit to talk about.

Nile's a Young Millennial, a digital native born in the United States after the collapse of the USSR left her country as the world's only superpower. She's used to a pace of technological change that human brains are not evolved to handle.

Napoleon trying to make all of Europe into the French Empire was a leading cause of the growth of European nationalism and the establishment of liberal democracies both in Europe and in many places that Europeans had colonized. Booker's first war produced the only geopolitical world order Nile has ever known and I just have so many feelings ok. Nile the art history nerd is probably not aware of this, and why would she be? This humble meta author is, like Nile, a product of US public schools, and all they taught me about world history was Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt/Mesopotamia and then World War 2. Being raised in The World's Only Superpower is WEIRD.

Nile the Young Millennial is used to the devastating volume of bad news the internet makes possible. But she has absolutely no concept of a world where the United States of America is not The World's Only Superpower. In order to get up in the morning and put on her gear and point guns at civilians in Afghanistan, she can only let herself think so much about whether that American exceptionalism thing is a good idea.

She's about to spend many, many years where the only people who she can truly trust are people who are older than not only her country but the IDEA of countries.

She's got time, and she's got a lot of new information at her disposal. But there comes a point where my obsession with her friendship and eventual very hot sex life with Booker just isn't about sex at all. Nile needs someone to talk to about the United States who Gets It. Booker the rat Frenchman coerced into Napoleon's army, and Copley the Black dual citizen of the US and UK who's retired from a CIA career that he half understands as deeply problematic but half still believes in hence his mind-bogglingly stupid partnership with Merrick, are the only people on the planet Nile can talk to honestly about, and really be understood in, all the thoughts and feelings and fears and hopes of her experience as a US Marine.

And one more thing before I go get ready for Rosh Hashanah: Orientalism was a defining element of the Crusades and that legacy is painfully clear in current US-led Western military activity in Afghanistan, Syria, Israel/Palestine, you name it. Turns out memoirs by French veterans of the Napoleonic Wars are full of Orientalist language about Russia as well. I am maybe/definitely writing a fic where Booker spends his exile reading critical race theory and decolonial feminism and trauma studies monographs because he can't be honest with a therapist but maybe he can heal this way and become the team therapist his own damn self. I just really need him to read Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and then go down on Nile, ok?

#nile freeman #tog meta #book of nile #sebastien le livre #the old guard #mine #us imperialism #european imperialism #jewish things #antiblackness #police violence #orientalism

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ravnicaforgoblins · 3 years

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Ravnica for Goblins

More Awesome NPCs of Ravnica

NPCs are one of the most important tools in a DM’s campaign. Your assorted guards, informants, bartenders, hench-persons, random civilians, and, of course, your quest-givers. Optimistically, you hope to have certain NPCs stick around for a while to have the party build a relationship with them, as opposed to getting murder-hobo-ed because your party doesn’t like their attitude. Which is why it’s so great that Ravnica is filled with cool NPCs who are definitely stronger than your party (for a while)!

A couple notes; I already did a list of Awesome NPCs, focusing on the Ladies of Ravnica, so this time I thought I’d try and give the boys (and Melek) some spotlight. Secondly, as I’ve by now made annoyingly apparent, I’m focusing on characters in the modern era of Ravnica, i.e. after the Decamillennial, because everything before the Decamillennial is a nightmare to figure out and you don’t need that headache.

Tajic, Blade of the Legion

You can’t have the Boros without Tajic. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. Tajic is the Legion’s Champion as well as their Mazerunner, and embodies all the ideals the Legion stands for. Unity, strength, passion; an unbreakable shield against all who would threaten Ravnica’s citizens. He is technically considered a Firefist, but special considerations should be made to give him the flavor he really deserves. Both of Tajic’s MTG cards have had some manner of protection against damage when involving other creatures. In addition, Firefists are actually primarily spellcasters, whereas Tajic is never seen without a blade in his hand or his name. So, to sum up, take a Firefist, add in some manner of damage resistance or even immunity contingent upon having allies present, throw in a weapon trick or two for his big wavy sword, and ta-da! You’ve got Tajic!

Momir Vig, Simic Visionary

I know I said no pre-Decamillennial, but Momir Vig is a special case. Technically, the former Guildmaster is dead, but the shadow of his reign still lingers over the Simic Combine. Momir Vig symbolizes everything Ravnica fears about the Combine; progress without restraint. Vig’s cytoplasts were oozes designed for personalized evolution in subjects to correct flaws and deficiencies (regrowing lost limbs, bolstering weakened immune systems, extra brain cells, etc). The only problem is that the project worked so well that Vig stopped seeing the need for consent, creating a new form of cytoplast that only needs to touch a host to bond with it. This raised some understandable concerns among Ravnican citizens, as well as the other Guilds. These concerns went to 11 when Vig’s Project Kraj, a gargantuan organism composed of thousands of cytoplasts, was activated to purge Ravnica and start over with a fresh slate. They went to a further 12 when Vig was killed, Project Kraj summoned every cytoplasm back to it (maiming, crippling, or killing a large number of hosts), and proceeded to go on a rampage that only ended after it ate Rakdos and went into a coma.

Momir Vig is exactly the kind of mad scientist to escape the grave, go underground, and continue his research unimpeded until it’s ready. A Rogue Guildmaster with no boundaries, or as we like to call it, a ready-made Big Bad.

Melek, Izzet Paragon

As with Vig, Melek is canonically dead, but that sort of “dead” that could conceivably be temporary if the story requires it. Melek is a Weird designed by Niv-Mizzet himself to be the Izzet Mazerunner. A certain sparkmage had other ideas however, so he absorbed the sentient being of pure elemental energy into himself at the start of the Maze and took its place, then tried to shock the other runners to death because, you know, winning. But following the physics principle that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed into a different form, it’s believable that Melek could return someday. Probably with a grudge against said sparkmage. Melek is a fascinating build, combining high-level spellcasting with complete elemental resistance or possibly even immunity. Basically, a wizard who can tank. Even more intriguing, any lab run by a being composed of pure energy would be calibrated to channel said energy, possibly allowing short-range teleportation within said lab. This is a brilliant exercise in lair mechanics, so don’t hold back. Lest we forget Melek is a personal project of the Firemind, aka, the single most brilliant, powerful, and egocentric fire-breathing ancient dragon wizard in Ravnican history.

Tomik Vrona, Distinguished Advokist

Given the Orzhov Syndicate’s seeming fascination with being a faceless hierarchy of priests, lawmages, ghosts, tax collectors, etc; it’s nice to have another face with a name. Tomik Vrona is a lawmage who apprenticed under Teysa Karlov herself, making him a master of Ravnican law. It also makes him uncharacteristically open to relationships with other Guilds, as he is effectively Teysa’s link to the outside world during her imprisonment. Tomik carries a strong respect for the law, but is a passionate lover of interesting & creative loopholes. In short, he’s not inherently evil/greedy like most of the Syndicate, but still has ambition in spades. He prefers to use gargoyles for transportation, treasures every book he owns, and is canonically dating/living with that hot-tempered sparkmage mentioned previously. Whether the relationship is public or not is up to you. I personally see it as a measure of trust between the NPCs and the party; it’s a pretty controversial pairing of Guilds. It could even be a Romeo & Juliet (Julio?) kind of affair, just putting that out there.

Vorel of Hull Clade

If Momir Vig represents the dark side of the Simic Combine’s experiments, Vorel represents the infinite possibility they can offer. A former Gruul shaman, he made the decision to give up a piece of his clan’s territory to a Boros Legion garrison to better fortify their home turf, and was nearly killed when they turned on him for perceived cowardice. Vorel escaped and joined the Combine, where he was given Merfolk traits and an environment that embraced his ideas & strategic thinking. Vorel is extremely grateful to his new Guild, and believes himself to be an example of how anything is possible through the Simic, no matter one’s origins. His strong passion & drive have led to great breakthroughs, but he’s definitely more emotionally-driven than most Simic researchers. Here is a Biomancer that isn’t afraid to get dirty or bloody in combat. This could be a fun experiment in crafting a Simic Melee Weapon.

Tolsimir Wolfblood, Ledev Guardian

You know that one leader elf in fantasy stories who everyone else takes orders from but never fights themselves? Yeah, this isn’t that elf. This is what you wish that elf was, a warrior archer who leads his soldiers into battle atop a giant dire wolf and kicks some serious ass. The Ledev are Selesnya’s elite mounted force, skilled fighters, archers, swordsmen, and even spellcasters. They are the cavalry, the breaking dawn on Hornburg, the “oh shit” in an enemy’s mouth. Please don’t make the mistakes of countless fantasy novels by being on bad terms with such badass warriors. Having any member of the Ledev behind you should be a boost to the party’s courage & resolve. Having Tolsimir fight alongside you should be one of the greatest honors of your life. The chance to finally recreate that “besties” relationship between Legolas & Gimli as you see who can kill the most enemies in battle.

Domri Rade, City Smasher

I hesitate to include Domri, I genuinely do. He’s a scraggly little punk who nearly brought about the destruction of the Gruul (and all of Ravnica) ultimately because he was too weak and too stupid. I include him here out of respect for the lore, but you can honestly do better. Domri Rade was considered too small & weak for any Gruul clan, so he instead bonded with the savage animals of the Rubblebelt, eventually discovering he could incite them into stampedes at will. This new power finally granted him admission into Borborygmos’ own Burning Tree Clan, but he panicked during the burial rite of passage and planeswalked away for the first time. Eventually he learned to control his powers, returned to the Rubblebelt, challenged Borborygmos for leadership of the Burning Tree clan, and won by sending wave after wave of stampeding boars to trample the cyclops Guildmaster. He was enlisted by Nicol Bolas to help destroy Ravnica, and failed to realize that meant him too as an eternal ripped out his Planeswalker Spark, killing him. Domri Rade is basically a cheap knockoff of Garruk Wildspeaker, only smaller and weaker and dumber and infinitely less dangerous. He is, however, considered by many to be an omen of the End-Raze, heralding the return of the Boar God Ilharg and the burning down of Ravnica by the Gruul who follow the Old Ways. So maybe play up that angle if you include him in your campaign.

Ral Zarek, Izzet Viceroy

If you only include one NPC from any of my lists in your Ravnica campaign, you must include Ral Zarek. Failing to do so is denying your players the opportunity to interact with the single coolest character in Ravnica. He beats out Vraska for the sole reason that he’s a much more public & accessible figure than the Gorgon Assassin, and an unexpected encounter with him is significantly less likely to end in your death/petrification. Between his good looks, cocky grin, brilliant mind, and lightning powers that put Thor to shame; Ral is certain to make any situation more interesting. He’s a great contact to have within the Izzet, a brilliant researcher, extremely talented with designing gadgets or magic items, an astonishingly powerful magic user, and a fun guy to hang around with. He can definitely have a temper on him, so understand when to back away. Hint: His hair turns from black to white when his electromancy powers are activating. You’ll also probably notice the sounds of static discharge building up around him, perhaps a faint smell of ozone, crackling energy coming from his gauntlet, and, oh yeah, his eyes glow and his smile turns into a growling grimace of death as he fills you with lightning. Whether by design or accident, Ral is basically the mascot for Ravnica, and it’s almost unthinkable for him to be absent from a campaign set there.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #goblins #D&D #D&D 5e #dungeons and dragons #mtg #ral zarek #domri rade #tajic #momir vig #tolsimir wolfblood #tomik vrona #vorel #melek #roleplaying #npcs

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bubbyleh · 4 years

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like real people do

It's not often that Dr. Bubby finds himself at a loss for knowledge.

As the perfect scientist, he has basically all the information he would ever need inside of Black Mesa. He knew the purpose of every lab, all the equations they used, a complete layout of the Black Mesa facility... It had all been programmed into his mind sometime during his development, though files from that time were something Bubby was explicitly denied access to.

So, for the first few years of his life, Bubby was incredibly well-versed in all things Black Mesa. As time went on, he picked up things about the outside world. At first it was small things, like a song or a location. But completely by chance, a scientist turned the corner from the break room too fast and ran directly into Bubby, spilling his soda all over him.

"What the hell!?" Bubby had fumed, staring down as his drenched shirt. "Watch where you're going!"

"Oh, goodness! I do apologize for that!" the other scientist stammered. "Let me go get you some napkins!"

Looking up, Bubby was struck by the man before him. He was nowhere near as tall as Bubby (who was?), but there was obvious muscle under his lab coat, and those eyes... they looked so kind. Though he didn't realize it at the time, Bubby would look back and realize the thing he felt was attraction.

He was back in the break room before Bubby could react, but true to his word, he did bring napkins with him on his return.

That was how Bubby met Dr. Coomer.

Coomer had offered to front the quarter Bubby would need for the washing machine in the Black Mesa dorms, which Bubby took as an opportunity to have all of his clothes laundered at no cost to himself. Coomer had laughed at this, and Bubby couldn't explain the surging feeling in his chest when he did. He also couldn't explain why he kept talking to Coomer, regaling him with stories that made him seem intelligent! Bubby sat on one of the unused washing machines, which Coomer was leaning onto. They only realized the passing time when the machine beeped, signalling that Bubby’s clothes were clean.

At that point, Bubby's heart had dropped. He shoved his clothes into a dryer, started it, and left with only a flimsy excuse.

They weren't happy about that one. But Coomer and Bubby kept finding excuses to skip out on work to hang with each other, so eventually they were made lab partners.

Coomer would never hesitate to share information about the surface with Bubby. During their early mornings, while they drank their coffee, Coomer would recite verbatim (as best Bubby could tell) the happenings in his favorite movies and television shows. He liked following along to the dramas Coomer would tell him about, to the point where he could hold his own in a discussion without ever having seen an episode.

It was, after all, its own form of knowledge. And like all knowledge, Bubby reveled in it.

Which is why, fifty-some odd years later, Bubby is completely out of his depth.

Bubby’s been out—free, he’s been free—for a week. Sure, he wasn’t expecting his first experience in the real world to be at Chuck E. Cheese’s, but he wasn’t complaining. Because there was something so normal about eating subpar pizza at your friend’s birthday party, Bubby was fine enough that it wasn’t “special” in any way.

But sitting across from Dr. Coomer, Bubby realized something.

They’d been together for the better part of four decades, and they had never even been on a real date before.

Which Bubby thinks is justified, all things considered! It’s not like he was allowed to leave Black Mesa property, and underground research facilities aren’t exactly known for their nice eateries. What were they supposed to do, just ask the administration if their super secret lab-grown power man could leave for a night only because he wanted to have dinner somewhere?! That would just be asking for the tube.

It’s not like they didn’t make do, though! There had been quite a few occasions where, during a late night, Coomer had snuck down a bottle of wine for the two of them to share. Bubby would push down the stinging shame he felt every time, because Coomer deserved someone he could go out with. But for some unimaginable reason, he had chosen Bubby.

So, a week after their escape from Black Mesa, Bubby does research. He finds as much media as he can about dates, mostly coming back with romcoms. He read articles and blogs online about how to have the perfect first date. A lot of these guidelines seem to make assumptions about how well people on dates knew each other. But, well, if it’s what you’re supposed to do…

It takes about two days of doing nothing but binging romcoms, but eventually Bubby decides that his notes are satisfactory. He’s managed to narrow down what he calls the Expected Questions, or, the questions that are apparently required on a date. And Coomer has to know about them, because, hello? He’s been through this all before. The man’s been married before, Jesus.

And then there’s Bubby. He’s gonna mess this all up, isn’t he?

The thought of that almost makes him snap his note-taking pencil.

Around hour forty-three, Coomer pops his head into the room Bubby has tentatively claimed as his study (he’s not used to being able to claim rooms, let alone ones as frivolous as a study). He looks worried.

“Bubby, dear,” Coomer says, his tone wavering a little. “I’m all for the advancement of scientific research, or whatever it is you’re doing.” Right. Coomer can’t know what’s going on in here. “But, perhaps you would like to come down and eat? It’s almost time for lunch.”

Oh. Lunch. And food in general. That thing people need to eat in order to live. Bubby hasn’t eaten since around hour thirty-one, when he snuck some yogurt from their kitchen. Yeah, he could eat.

“Uh, okay. Sure,” Bubby stands, trying to ignore the dizzy feeling. He’s not used to having so much free time, apparently, since he’s forgetting to eat.

Which, hey, another thing. It seems a little stupid, but Bubby thinks their whole relationship is going in the wrong order. Like, they haven’t even been on an actual first date yet, but they’re already living together? But in another sense, they’ve been together for thirty-six years, and they’re only now moving in with each other? In all the romcoms Bubby just watched, there wasn’t anything remotely close to that.

So maybe they’re doomed already?

It’s something Bubby thinks about while he eats the wonderful grilled cheese that Coomer prepared for him. Seeing the way that Coomer looks at him, though, smiling brighter than the sun felt the first time Bubby ever stepped foot outside… Well, Bubby can’t help but want to try anyway.

♡♡♡♡♡

It takes three more days for Bubby to work up the courage to actually ask Coomer to go out. Which is the dumbest thing ever, but hey! This is a big deal for him!

They’re spread out on the couch watching Rocky II, which was Coomer’s suggestion. Bubby is honestly sick of watching movies, but he’s not about to admit to what he was getting up to during his over forty-hour research binge. Besides, he gets to lay down in Coomer’s lap, which is nice.

This is another example of their relationship being completely out of order, but Bubby chooses not to think about it.

“You know what I was thinking?” Bubby asks during a lull in the action.

Coomer gives him a wry smile. “When aren’t you thinking, professor? I swear, that head of yours must go a mile a minute.”

“Doctor,” Bubby corrects automatically. “But really.”

“Okay then, Professor Bubby,” Coomer chuckles to himself. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know who Professor Bubby is, but Doctor Bubby was thinking we should go out to dinner sometime. Like somewhere fancy.”

Coomer hums. “You know, I was thinking the same thing. I've always wished we could go someplace nice together.”

"Well, they do say great minds think alike," Bubby smirks.

"But fools rarely differ," Coomer presses a kiss to Bubby's forehead. "You make me feel like a lovesick fool, did you know that?"

Oh!

"You old sap!" Bubby laughs at Coomer. But he pulls him down to kiss him anyway.

♡♡♡♡♡

Coomer catches Bubby staring at himself in the mirror just before they head out. It's the suit, really. It made sense to buy, after all, going to an upscale restaurant kind of requires one. But actually wearing it, is…

It's jarring. It's like everything he never thought he'd be.

"Are you alright, Bubby?" Coomer asks him. "You know I don't care if you dress nice tonight. You could wear one of your turtlenecks if you'd like."

Bubby shakes his head. "Harold, I absolutely love this suit."

♡♡♡♡♡

Bubby does certain things to prepare for their date. Nothing too drastic, no. He's not going to have, like, Tommy or someone feed him lines from an earpiece or anything like that. No, all Bubby does is script out everything he's going to say for the entire date. God, it's such a simple and ordinary thing to do! Okay!?

So they sit across from one another, at a candlelit table next to a window. It's romantic, more romantic than anything they ever did at Black Mesa. Which isn't saying much, but truly, Bubby can't complain.

"This is a fine establishment, Harold," Bubby notes, keeping on script. "How did you find this place?"

"Well, you see, my dear Bubby," Coomer starts but god, the word "dear" alone is making Bubby want to burn the whole restaurant down as a symbol for his love. "I used the internet! It’s quite a useful tool, don't you think?"

Ah, a question! Luckily, Bubby has accounted for just this situation, and the tactic is not something he’s unfamiliar with. “I’ve found it to be helpful, yes.”

The good old agree card. Works every time.

But! Bubby needs to get back on track. This is a very important date, and Bubby can’t just let himself forget that! Time for the most basic of lines.

“So, Harold,” Bubby finds himself saying after they’ve ordered. “How was your day?”

Nice. Good. Perfect. Amazingly spectacular.

Coomer laughs. “We were both home all day, Bubby. You tell me!”

Right shit damn it a garbage fire.

“Fuck,” Bubby says before he can stop himself. And when he realizes that he let that slip, he lets his head fall into his hands and groans. “I’m fucking this all up, aren’t I?”

“Er, Bubby dear, are you alright?” Bubby feels Coomer grab onto one of his arms. “Is… is this too much for you? Drat, I knew we should have worked up to this. We could go home, if you’d like.”

Bubby’s head shoots up. “No!” he says, forcing the word out as fast as he can. He takes a deep breath, then grabs Coomer’s hand. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here.”

“Then what is it?” Coomer asks, and damn it, he’s not supposed to be worried! Nobody is supposed to be worried for Bubby, not like this! He’s used to the medical kind of worry, where the other party’s concern was more for their career than Bubby himself, always talking about him like he couldn’t hear, ignoring his presence except for when they needed him. But Coomer…

Coomer was never like that. Even when he found out about the tube, and the prototypes, and the medical evals and everything… Coomer still loved him. Which meant the world to Bubby, who, for his whole life, thought himself unlovable. And when Coomer looked at him, he didn’t see something immoral that shouldn’t exist, or something that needs to succeed, lest it be cast out like the others, he just saw Bubby.

Bubby loves him. And he thinks he can afford to be a little less than a genius around Coomer.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bubby admits, and damn it, why is the world suddenly blurry? He’s wearing his glasses and-

Oh.

Bubby realizes that he’s crying.

“Sorry, fuck,” Bubby chokes back a sob. Coomer squeezes his hand. He’s talking through his other hand, which is covering his entire lower face. “I’m not… Shit, I didn’t think it would go like this. I don’t know how to do a… date. I wasn’t supposed to do stuff like that, so they never programmed it into my head but… I just want to do normal person things like go on dates with you.”

“Normal?” Coomer remarks, and Bubby can see he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Oh no, go ahead,” Bubby still manages to be snarky even while he’s breaking down. “Please make fun of me while I’m crying and being emotionally honest. It really helps.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Coomer at least has the decency to look apologetic. He reaches to hold Bubby’s other hand as well, which he is so graciously allowed. “It’s just… did you think I would be with you if I wanted normal?”

Bubby is taken aback.

Huh.

“I… suppose you’re right,” Bubby admits, and he can feel the worst of his feelings going away. It feels a little empty now, without it. “I do still want to try this date, though.”

The look Coomer gives Bubby is so wholesome and accepting that Bubby believes for a moment that he’s died and this is the face of an angel. It’s so powerful that he actually manages to forget, if heaven and hell are real, then he definitely isn’t going to heaven.

Coomer is happy to immediately launch into explanation mode. “Well, first things first, for a date, you should begin by talking.”

Bubby can’t help but smile at the man he loves. “Talking,” he repeats.

“Yes,” Coomer nods at him. “Tell me, Bubby. What do you want to talk about tonight?”

♡♡♡♡♡

It’s in the parking lot after their meal that Bubby comes to his conclusion about dating.

“I don’t see what the big deal about that was!” he rants as he and Coomer get into the car. “We could have done that at home! All the movies and stuff hyped it up.”

Coomer, thankfully, ignores his comment about movies. “Well maybe next time, we can just make some good food at home.”

Bubby rolls his eyes. “And who is going to make all that food? I don’t remember you being a chef, Harold.”

Coomer just beams at him. “We’ll order some takeout! What do you think? Perhaps next time we will order some Chinese food!”

This is the man he’s in love with, and Bubby smiles to himself. Chinese food sounds nice.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #dr coomer #dr bubby #hlvrai boomer #my writing #like real people do

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theculturedmarxist · 3 years

Note

race is a social phenomenon. it's "fake" in the same way religions and laws and alphabets and color spectrum classification systems are "fake". we live in a society with races. neither of us can change this and nonsensically denying it does the exact opposite of help.

imagine telling people who live under caste systems that if they bring up how badly lower castes are treated, they're the real problem because castes aren't real. and then just screaming "SHUT THE FUCK UP CLASSIST" when they try to tell you why you're not helping lol

All racists are fucking morons.

Shithead, stupid fucking asshole, rancid jizzstain, the answer to caste oppression isn’t to just say “we live in a society with castes. neither of us can change this and nonsensically denying it does the opposite of help.” The answer is to fucking abolish castes, you worthless tool.

And this isn’t a “white people” thing, you shit. Abolishing caste has been a platform of Communist Indians since their inception. Fucking kill yourself.

The 1930 Platform of Action written by leaders of the Communist Party of India (CPI) says: “The CP of India fights for the complete abolition of slavery, the caste system and the caste inequality in all its forms (social, cultural, etc.). The CP of India fights for the complete and absolute equality of the working pariahs and all the toilers of our country.” What is the significance of this statement?

The significance of this first policy statement of the Communist Party in 1930 has three aspects. The first is the commitment to the abolition of the caste system as a whole and all the inequalities resulting from it. In 1916 the young B. R. Ambedkar as a student in Columbia University had written of “persistent attempts to do away with caste” which he had described “as an unnatural institution.” After the great social reformers of the nineteenth century like Jyotiba Phule and others who fought the caste system followed by Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar, among the political parties, it was the Communist Party which was the first political party to give the call for a struggle for the elimination of the caste system itself. In this context the 1930 document criticizes the Gandhian approach for the “reform” of the caste system while retaining its basic framework.

The second aspect of the document is that it linked the struggle against the caste system with the national struggle against the British colonial Raj and feudalism. It said, “As a result of the rule of British imperialism in our country there are still in existence millions of slaves and tens of millions of socially outcast working pariahs, who are deprived of all rights. British rule, the system of landlordism, the reactionary caste system, religious deceptions and all the slave and serf conditions of the past throttle the Indian people and stand in the way of its emancipation. They have led to the result that in India, in the twentieth century, there are still pariahs who have no right to meet with all their fellow men, drink from common wells, study in common schools, etc.” There may have been illusions or hope among some of the those fighting the caste system that the British, unlike the national leadership, had no stakes in maintaining the caste system and were therefore the best bet to initiate reforms. In fact, the British were able to use caste, just as they did with the promotion of religious identities of Hindu and Muslim, for their strategy of divide and rule. This is because of the class reality that the bulwark of support for the British rulers were the feudal forces, the landlords, the Rajas and Maharajahs who had the highest stakes in retaining and strengthening the caste system as it allowed them access to the cheap labor of the “untouchables” and the maintenance of “serf and slave conditions.” Thus, the fight against the colonial regime was linked to the fight against feudalism and the entrenched caste system. The Communist Party of India’s 1930 Plan of Action stated, “Only the ruthless abolition of the caste system in its reformed, Gandhist variety, only the agrarian revolution and the violent overthrow of British rule, will lead to the complete social, economic, cultural and legal emancipation of the working pariahs and slaves.”

The third aspect is that the fledgling Communist Party, despite huge repression by the British, its leaders jailed in the Meerut Conspiracy Case (1929-1933) and charged in one “conspiracy” case after another, joined and in many cases led struggles against untouchability, forced segregation and against anti-Dalit practices in the decade of the thirties, after the 1930 Plan was adopted. Therefore, it was not just an ideological position regarding the essential aspect of fighting the caste system but also the role of communists in the actual struggle.

Total shithead that you are, it might at least be somewhat understandable if you gained from this system, but you are saying that slaves should accept their shackles because they were born in them, you fucking waste of human life.

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galaxytale · 3 years

Text

mmmm…. i have new thoughts about my ex and i’s situation.

i know i have rambled on here in the past about them. often bitterly and angrily. to be honest, those words came from a place of immense hurt and betrayal. a lot of pain and a lot of complex emotions that i needed to vent out and process. and the way i did this previously was… rather embarrassing and harmful and not good for anyone. but it has been a long year, and i have had much to think about. and my brain does not like to process many of these things in a normal way. i often just use this blog as a place to barf out my thoughts at random so i can work out whats going on in my mind. this doesnt excuse it but i hope it allows for some understanding.

its been a long time since my ex and i broke up. and i just… idk didnt know how to deal properly. but i think about them a lot. obviously. what you see is mostly the negatives. the frustrations and the confusions and the residual aches and pains. mostly because these are what im trying best to understand. i want to understand them, i want to understand their perspective. it frustrates me when i cant understand, and it frustrates me more when i feel as if they couldnt understand me or didnt even try. but i still care for them greatly. which is why i get frustrated. i do not think many people understand this. i want to understand why they hurt me. i want to understand how i hurt them. i want to learn and grow. but to do that i also have to experience and process the anger and frustration i felt towards them. this is what you all see when i ramble and rant.

anyway this is the last time im doing this publicly because honestly this is a stupid way to process stuff this and i figured out something way better. also im just. tired of it. im tired of being angry and being hurt. that doesnt mean itll stop but. yall wont be seeing it.

i still hold many of my previous thoughts and criticisms of them. and i still consider many of these valid and fair. and i still deny ever doing many of the things they accused me of because ive spoken with other people about them - people actually involved in the situation(s), and they have supported and corroborated my side of the story as well as my feelings regarding those various situations.

however i have come to some realizations that i think allow me to better understand parts of their side of it all.

ive realized some things about myself and how my mind functions that have lead me to other realizations. these realizations include that i misunderstood a lot of things they were trying to get me to do, tools they were trying to get me to employ, things that actually would have been helpful to me had i understood. i see now that in some of the cases they were pushing me on and making me extremely uncomfortable with, that they were genuinely trying to be helpful because they cared. because they were trying to help me just as i was trying to help them.

the problem here is that i was not ready for, and did not understand a lot of the new things being pushed at me. much of what they were trying to get me to engage with were therapy techniques and stuff to learn to cope better. unfortunately due to a lot of previous bad experiences with therapy and such techniques i am extremely adverse to and suspicious of therapy and therapeutic settings/techniques. combined with a lot of new information about myself that i needed time to adjust to and process. a lot of it scared me and i needed them to slow down and be gentler with me in this rather than throwing me in the deep end and expecting me to swim.

i misunderstood a lot of the tools they were trying to offer me - how to use them properly and why. i thought i made this obvious that i didnt understand a lot of it and in fact didnt want to engage with a lot of it outright - even though i was willing to try. the issue is i also needed a good example or instruction of what they wanted from me and… well. they did their best, this i know they tried, but it was not enough for me to understand what they really wanted from me.

i now understand that this is likely why they grew frustrated with me. and this also factors into something that ive come to realize and understand about myself - in fact its one of the things they criticized about me most… ive come to understand the true nature of what the thing i did that they hated most was actually. and ive since worked out a solution to it that actually has been shown to be far more effective and efficient in doing what the thing they were criticizing me about most was doing. this took a lot of work and a long time for me to come to the realization of what it was that i needed to do and how it worked. and i needed to be allowed to make this discovery on my own time, at my own pace to be able to accept it as part of how i work.

unfortunately due to a lot of things, i was also quite terrible to them myself. and i recognize this. i recognized it before - i tried my best to fix my understanding of it but i did not know what i didnt know. i did not know, and did not understand, what i now know and understand. but much of my actions were because i was scared, confused, uncomfortable, and dealing with a whole lot of shit outside of our relationship. and i am genuinely and truly remorseful for what i did. i was remorseful back then, and i still am now. i did some bad things and i know this. i speak of it vaguely here because honestly while im just shouting to the void i still know this is a public blog and theres a chance people will actually read this and frankly. i consider it none of their business unless they were involved. i did lash out at them, and i did treat them unfairly.

however i still feel as if they refuse to acknowledge my point of view in much of this, as well as that they lashed out at me and have refused to acknowledge and apologize for it all. i have never heard them say the words “im sorry” for any of the things i consider the worst things they did to me. much of the time they refused to even acknowledge the fact that a lot of it hurt me despite me outright stating such. they also refused to acknowledge that i had repeatedly tried to assert my own boundaries with them and refused to accept a new boundary when it was drawn.

they did a lot of terrible things to me in return. including things that they, themself, accused me of doing to them initially. i still deny these accusations and consider myself completely innocent (at worst, should my own memory really be that faulty, i consider myself only having caused a huge misunderstanding among friends as well as having accidentally fucking up something that left out important context). i feel this way because they would not produce any evidence to prove to me my own actions that would negate the memories i myself actually have as well as the evidence in support of my side of the case that i have. all they could provide was testimony from a person who would not have had direct access to either side of the conversation that they are alleging happened a certain way. a conversation that i, personally, was half of. a conversation that i spoke with the other half about again, after showing them what i was being accused of, who also verified my recollection of the events.

i feel as if they refuse to even consider my perspective. i felt this way for a good amount of the relationship, and i still feel this way. i feel that they refused to communicate with me and ensure that both of us completely understood the other. i feel that they refused to be considerate of my needs and respectful towards me as a person after a certain point. i feel as if they refused to work to compromise with me on many situations, and i feel that they often tried to demand of me many things that were unreasonable, and that they often moved goalposts or failed to deliver on their end of the deal when i still bent over backwards to do something for them.

however. i do also feel that at some point in time, they did genuinely care for me. and i do feel like i would like to apologize for the new places where i realize i caused them undue stress and frustration.

but i also feel that they would not accept this apology for those parts that i now recognize my own hand in without me accepting and apologizing for the narrative that i know is false. additionally… i do not feel as if they would accept or apologize for any of their own parts in the situation. i still feel theyre likely to reject that they hurt me very very deeply, and badly in return.

as much as i would like to start the conversation of potentially working out the issues and reconnecting as friends… i still feel as if they would view this as an impossibility. because i feel they view me as something of a monster, and not as someone who was under immense amounts of stress and pressure and was very confused and scared for months on end.

i recognize its very likely their feelings echo my own. except for the portion about potentially being friends again… i feel as if this is a forgone conclusion to them that it will not be happening.

all this said…

i also want to say this. in hindsight they were right about the tool they gave to me for one of my specific issues. the one they gave me before the start of it all. the one i was extremely adverse to accepting and trying to adapt to. i did not understand what its actual purpose was for at the time, nor did i understand how they actually meant for me to use it. because of some recent things ive learned about myself, as well as have been able to actually accept, i now understand what they meant. and ill admit that they were right about this one. its really helpful now that i understand what i was supposed to do with it.

they were right and i was wrong. simple as. at least, in regards to this one thing.

#chrono speaks #griff talks about his ex #for the final time anyway #this is all for me tbh #just cuz its helping me to come to terms with some stuff and feel more at peace with things #i dont think theyll see it #they never looked at my blog anyway before #just ive been doing a lot of introspection and thinking and you guys only see a portion of it all and not even my real like #level headed thoughts on things

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bleached-d-soul · 4 years

Text

Size Queen - Cuckquean: Chapter 2

for my friend @the-wayward-arc and all of you my dear readers!

Weiss made a mistake.

"Ugh, please, don't stop!"

She was raised on the belief that Schnees were always right. That they were people incapable of making a mistake by nature. Any deviation from the perfection was someone else's fault but never theirs. She was a Schnee, she could not make a bad decision.

"Harder, please, harder!"

So why was she being subjected to all of this right now?

She already apologized. She already accepted her place as a lowly miserable cuckquean. She hasn't been fucked in weeks. Jaune didn't even allow her to use toys or her fingers. Any and all pleasure she could have always came from her pathetically rubbing her swollen needy sopping wet cunt on any surface she could find. Provided that she was allowed to move, that is.

Most of the times, like right now, she wasn't.

"Oh fuuuuuck!" she watched Emerald cry out in ecstasy as the orgasm rocked her body. Her eyes followed the trails of thick semen that were running down the chocolate-skinned girl's legs. As if she didn't even exist as anything but the holder of sex toys for the two, they started making out. In their room. In her bed. How many girls had been fucked there already? How often had she been reduced to sleeping on the floor while her bed creaked under the weight of passionate and wild sex?

And how many times she wanted to rub her brains out to the sound of it.

"Hey, Schnee, come here and clean up for me."

Weiss stood back up fast and firm, her body shaking with need. Both Jaune and Emerald watched her with amusement as she made her way towards them. The viibrator Emerald stuck into her ass at the beginning of their session dangled helplessly, ready to fall any moment. Weiss felt incredibly pathetic as she forced herself to clench hard around the tip of the dildo in a desperate move to keep it inside.

Emerald promised her that, if she could hold onto the dildo till they were done, that she would be allowed to rub herself on Jaune's leg. That night when she watched Jaune and Vernal fuck like animals, something inside her simply broke. She was beyond salvation or repair. And without Jaune's presence, she couldn't cum at all. She would fuck and finger and play with herself for entire weekeneds without any result. Then Jaune would give her a firm but sharp slap across face and she was squirting like a faucet.

Which is why she was reduced to this sorry state.

For the chance to be used as a toy, she would suffer any and all humiliations and degradations. She played a good little stupid doggy for Jaune and Velvet. She was an unattractive twig-like model Coco dressed up into sexy lingerie to better show off her own ass and breasts. She cleaned off the bodies of twins from some club after they took a very heavy dose of bukkake from Jaune. She even had her holes used as a holder for Professor Goodwitch's crop.

She was everything and nothing at the same time.

And she hated how much she loved every second of it.

To have her pride shattered into pieces and stomped into dust. To have girls of lesser birth like Emerald and Malachites treat her like a two-Lien whore. To be paraded around Beacon on a leash with dildos stuck up her ass and cunt. All those who thought she was some Size Queen now knew better. Her social life was effectively ruined and she was but a toy for her betters like... Well, pretty much any girl not named Weiss Schnee.

As she approached the two, Weiss made sure to not meet their eyes. Unless they told her to, she was unworthy. One of the many lessons that were drilled into her disobedient stupid uptight cunt of a brain by days and days of education by her betters. She would always know her place thanks to them. Emerald and Jaune didn't even bother to look at her as she began cleaning Emerald's ass of any of Jaune's semen.

The moment her tongue touched his thick delicious cream, she froze. She wanted to savor it. Roll it around in her mouth, drinking in every bit of its salty and bitter flavors. But she knew better. She was not a woman or even a human when her betters were concerned. She was a toy. A tool who served her Master and Mistresses' purpose. And so she diligently ate the thief's ass, gulping down semen without a second to enjoy it.

"Oh, Schnee! Almost forgot, turn around."

Weiss did as she told, presenting her ass to Emerald. Only too late did she realize that she exposed her dangling dildo for the girl to easily yank out of her ass. Her body spasmed and she cried out in orgasm at the sudden emptiness in her tight little ass. Pitifully, she watched as Emerald held the toy in front of the heiress as if to remind her that she failed at something as simple as that.

"Now then, what was the punishment for failing, Schnee?"

Weiss looked down, barely restraining herself from crying from her sheer weakness and unimportance.

"T-Two more months of edging," she choked out, her body trembling in pain. She could already imagine the next months. "No right to cum."

"Good girl," with a sharp laughter, Emerald slapped Weiss across the cheek with the plastic phallus. Weiss groped her miniscule breasts as she tried to lap up some of her own ass juices like a complete degenerate. "Now scram, I don't want you around here when I am having sex with Jaune."

Needless to say, she wasn't allowed to take her clothes. So she walked out of her own room, naked and with derogatory words such as 'No Good Bitch' and 'Lousy Cunt Queen' adordning her body. A few weeks ago, the sight drew attention, with no end to scrolls flashing in her face. But nowadatys it was part of the norm. All guys knew she was all talk and no fuck. While girls enjoyed treating her like the piece of garbage and stress relief.

As she passed her way towards the room where she kept her spare clothesm Weiss wondered how long she could take this before she snapped. She needed more. She wanted more. She could enjoy the rough treatment. She knew she deserved nothing more or better. But she was so starved for good fucking. She didn't care if Jaune split her apart or fucked her brains out and, for the rest of her days, she would only know how to moan and beg for more sex.

She just wanted a-

"Oh, come on, Steele, don't be such a bitch!"

Weiss stood still as she tried to make herself as invisible as possible. Someone was in here. Steele, wasn't that the girl from Emerald's team? The one who always looked like she couldn't care less about anything?

"You know the rules, Onyxia. No fucking my man without my permission," Weiss watched as the dark-skinned punk girl glared at the silver-haired huntress. But to no effect. Suddenly, Steele's hand found its way into the girl's shorts and then right into her wet tight cunt. "You want Jaune's cock? You want him to make you so loose no man can ever fit in there properly? Is that what you want?"

Onyxia was the epitome of trouble. She was known to have started fights over presumed slights. Sometimes she didn't even need a reason. She was a bona fide bully, out there to cause violence for the sake of violence. And yet, as Steele roughly manhandled the shorter girl, Onyxia seemed to have neither strength nor desire to resists. Instead, she melted into a mewling mess. Kneeling down, she latched onto Steele's leg and started to plead,

"P-Please, Steele, I am sorry for being such a bitch to you. I promise I will do better! I will be better, just... Just give me another chance, please! I promise to remember who is in charge!"

Weiss' eyes widened. So she was in charge. She used to think that it was Vernal. Although her opinion was rattled when three days ago, she saw Vernal being locked in the same room as her for three hours of edging. Steele Black was the one Jaune was with. She was the Alpha of this harem. So that meant that if Weiss managed to secure position under her...

She would finally get fucked.

The thought sent shivers down her spine and right towards her needy denied pussy. She knew that Jaune wasn't capable of handling all these girls all on his own. She should have known that there would be someone behind it all. She wouldn't be surprised if it were Pyrrha or Vernal or that foreign student Cinder... But Steele? Weiss was genuinely surprised, quite impressed.

But more importantly, she was delighted beyond ahy measure.

Pyrrha was too much in love with Jaune to give him up to her. Vernal would be too territorial and a bitch to deal with. Cinder, from the few interactions they had, would definitely use her to gain access to Schnee influence and money. But Steele? Steele was an easy mark, Weiss was sure of it. The girl seemed uncaring about most of anything most of the time. And from what she observed, she was hardly one with an eye and a mouth for cut-throat bargaining.

This was almost perfect!

The plan began to brew in Weiss' sex-starved brain. Whatever humility had been drilled into her these past few weeks vanished in a blink of an eye as she saw an opportunity to gain the upper hand over all the girls. Jaune was angry at her and he would most likely not even want to fuck her. But if he loved Steele as much as she thought, then he would listen and do as she said. He would fuck her into sweet sweet daze. He would claim all her holes as his, making her impossible to satisfy for other men. Cover each and every inch of her body with his rich thick semen. And in time, he would grow to enjoy her. Want her. Addicted to her.

All she needed to do now was get Steele under her thumb.

"Just you wait, you stupid bitches..." With her pride back and stronger than before, the desire for vengeance came and burned bright in her heart. "Soon, it will be you begging me for leftovers. Just you wait...!"

She could already picture it all in her head. How much she would savor the revenge on all the girls for the humiliation and denial they had put her through. She would make them crawl. She would make them beg. She would put them through Hell and drag them back, broken and desperate. And in the end of it all, after they all suffer the same things they dealt out to her... She wouldn't let them even touch Jaune. If they would want him, they would have to settle for licking up his cold cum off the floor while she enjoyed one fresh creampie after another.

And they would love it all.

"Mistress, please," she pictured Vernal, bound to the wall. Her pussy was red and swollen, dripping with need and despair. There was no more fire in those eyes. No more bite in her mouth. Only want and obedience. Readiness to do whatever asked in return for the briefest of releases. "Please, please, please, forgive this unworthy little slut! Just a touch! Please, just let Master touch me!"

Nope. She would enjoy fucking Jaune right in front of her though.

"Mistress! I completely finished all your chores! Look, look how clean and shiny the room is!" Emerald stood, dressed in the twisted version of a maid uniform. She had indeed finished all the chores in their room. It must have taken a lot of time. Especially with her arms bound behind her back and that plug up her ass. Still, the green-haired thief looked excited, wanting. She smiled a broken smile, salivating at Jaune's exposed cock. "I-I have been a good girl, right? I promise to keep being the good girl - no! The best girl! S-So please, may I lube his cock up for you? P-Pretty please, my Mistress?"

Weiss would smile at her. Dangle the opportunity right in front of her. Just before she kicked the girl out of her room and told her to quietly edge herself while listening through the door. Emerald would then break into tears. She wouldn't stop crying even as she edged her brains out to the sounds of their passionate lovemaking. She would make sure to watch the poor pathetic girl sniff at the sheets drenched in their sweat and juices.

She would leash all her teammates for their treatment of hers. None would be allowed to speak. Only mewl, moan and cry for release.

All the exchange students would be sent a daily reminder of what they could never have. She would have Jaune fuck them extra hard before they left for home. Just so they would never forget the taste of that magnificent cock and suffer every day of not having it buried in their pussies and asses.

She would personally torture Professor Goodwitch too. The woman would be driven to the limit with days and days of denial before being forced to serve as her glorified toys and clothes rack.

"M-Mistress, may I have him for just a few minutes, please? It is our wedding night, after all..."

And then, of course, there would be Steele. She could imagine it all finally end a few years later. Once they graduated and she had Jaune completely addicted to the taste of her superior body, she would have no more need for the girl that helped her get ahold of him. She would show her some kindness, of course. She would be even merciful enough to let the silver-haired girl marry the blonde. She would pay for the wedding and their home. Make sure they never had any trouble or want in life.

All the while continuing to fuck Jaune day-in and day-out!

Steele would watch her husband tear off the dress of her as a bridesmaid. And go down on her like a wild animal, driven only by lust and hunger for flesh. While she would have to watch it all, pathetically rubbing at her pussy in a wedding dress. It would be both the reward and the punishment. The reward for being kind enough to give her the chance to steal Jaune away. And punishment for having him in the first place.

There would be no more distractions.

No more doubts or hesitation.

She would prevail, taking the boy for himself once and for all.

Because Schnees were superior.

And superior always succeeded.

Steele rolled her eyes as she watched Vernal crawl back with her freshly spanked and fingered ass exposed for all to see. A shame, really. She did like the girl quite alright, all things considered. She wasn't as bossy as Cinder. And could actually relate about lots of stuff unlike Emerald, who would usually yammer on and on about Cinder. Or Jaune, lately. But as much as she liked the bandit girl, she wasn't going to give her any special treatment.

Give a finger, lose an arm and all that.

Ever since Vernal leaked that photo of her boyfriend's dick, there was no stop to the girls trying to take him away. He even had to get a second scroll to talk to her since his last one was being constantly bombarded with nudes of girls across Beacon. Which was really dumb of those whores since now she had another leverage to use against them if they got out of line.

Steele couldn't help but feel happy at that though. If someone was trying to take something from you then that meant it was something worth having. Worth fighting for. Not that she didn't know that already.

"We are assassins, brat," her bastard of a dad said once during one of his more sober moments. Him being sober meant he didn't miss when he hit or kicked her. That particular day, the beating was extra hard. After all, what right did she have to try and go to a birthday of a boy she had a crush on, right? "We don't have friends. We don't have lovers. We don't have family. All we have are useful tools and targets. So get that shit out of your head before I break it."

He made sure to drill that lesson into her head extra hard. No surprise there, of course. Mom ran off the first chance she got. Didn't take her with her, which earned her the title of a Total Bitch for the rest of her life. Perhaps dad's abuse of a training was a way to get back at mom. To raise their only daughter into the same merciless mercenary as him. Or maybe he was just a sadistic prick that got off beating the shit out of her.

She was happy that she killed him off. Seriously, what kind of idiot abuses their child while also raising them to be an assassin, anyway? But as much as seeing his lifeless body collapse onto the ground filled her with joy, his words continued to haunt her for years after that night.

She would never be a normal girl. She would never be normal, even by the standards of hunters. Huntsmen and huntresses were also raised to fight. But they would always fight Grimm first and other humans second. Her? She was raised to see everyone as a nuisance or a potential paycheck. She was trained to kill. Not out of necessity. Not because there were no other options.

She was raised to kill as the first option.

If someone paid her, she would kill whoever the client asked her to. If a person had something she wanted, she would kill them too. If a person was annoying her, she would kill them. Hell, she was trained to even kill out of boredom. A life would be cut short simply because she had nothing better to do that day. And it was normal for her. She no longer had nightmares or doubts. She could come home drenched in blood and doze off in her bed without anything tugging at her heart.

Dad told her she would never someone to love her. Someone whom she could love in return.

"Hey there, babe."

A gentle embrace. A hot kiss. And those warm eyes.

"Hey, Jaune."

She returned it all in return.

Her dad told her she would always be his daughter? A cold and unloveable murder machine?

Well, fuck him.

She was happy when she killed him.

She was even happier now that she had proved that bastard wrong.

Because she found love for herself. Not one born out of lust and boredom, even if it started as such. What she had with Jaune was sincere. Simple and primal, but no less beatiful and addictive. She had never felt so warm and safe before. Not when she was living with her bastard of a dad. Not when she killed him. Not when Cinder took her under her wing. But now she did. And she was not going to lose that feeling any time soon.

"So, did you fuck Emerald extra hard for me?" she asked, resting her head against his chest. A separate room just for the two of them. A small piece of the world that only they knew and lived in. She would have to thank Goodwitch for that later. "Think she is hooked on you now?"

Because she would rather listen to her praise Jaune instead of Cinder.

"I would have asked but she wasn't coherent enough to answer," he grinned wickedly. She loved when he did that. He was an adorable and loving pup of a boyfriend. So she loved it when he showed off his fangs to her. "Though judging how she was clinging to me, I would say, yes. Completely hooked."

Good. She let Emerald have him not out of the goodness of heart but rather with this ulterior motive in mind. Cinder, Emerald and Neo were already desperate addicts for Jaune's cock. Just not desperate enough to call off the attack on Beacon. Steele planned to change that though. She already convinced Neo to tie up that con woman Rowan. The little psycho was feeding her boss Jaune's cum these past few days and soon the mistress of theft and crime would be just another bitch under in Jaune's palm.

And once they had Amanda Taurus and her loyal underlings fucked into submission and collared, they would have the entire thing called off.

Her happily ever after was so close.

She straddled Jaune's waist, pressing her toned ass against his stomach. She could already feel the tip of his hardening cock. She made sure to look him in the eyes as she began to strip off her clothes. She hungrily drank in the lustful gaze. He turned to move and she stopped him.

"Jaune, are you forgetting who is in charge when the two of us are alone?"

Her voice was hard, but filled with passion and hunger. She loved him. She wanted him. And she always made sure he knew that.

With other girls, he was a complete and undeniable dom. His word was the law and his presence demanded obedience.

But with her?

He was the one under her.

"N-No," he whispered, breathing heavy as he laid back down. "Not at all, Steele."

She smiled.

"Good boy."

He knew the rules. She didn;t have to remind him. So she smiled as he laid there motionless but shaking with excitement as she crawled back, pressing her face against his bulging crotch. Having released his erect cock out of the confines of his pants, she playfully flicked its head. Her boyfriend winced, his face blushing deep red. Her favorite expression of his. Well, second favorite.

"I think I can still smell Emerald's pussy on you," she said as she took a whiff of his cock. The strong smell hit her nostrils and set her loins on fire. She played it cool though. With a click of her tongue, she continued, "That's no good. That rotten bitch should know her place and clean up after herself."

She dragged her tongue across his shaft, enjoying how much he shivered from it. Emerald would, of course, be punished later for that. She loved Jaune. And she was willing to share his cock with others. But he was hers and him having the smell of another woman on any part of his body rubbed her the wrong way. Perhaps she should feed her some strong aphrodisiac and reduce her to the same sorry needy state the Schnee bitch was in nowadays.

Speaking of which...

"How was Schnee, by the way?" her fingers played around with the tip of his cock, the feeling of his thick precum making her want to gobble it all up there and then. "Did she beg you to fuck her after you were done again?"

It was almost a ritual by this point. Some girl would manage to get a permission to fuck her boyfriend. Jaune would take them up. And the Schnee would pitifully follow them wherever they went. Most girls enjoyed having the needy cuckquean watch and serve them, especially faunus girls who simply loved having a Schnee as their pitiful plaything for the night. And whenever the girls were not up for having someone watch, Schnee would be kicked out and spend the rest of the night fingering herself by the door.

It was almost sad.

"No, Emerald kicked her out," Jaune groaned as she began to give him a slow and gentle handjob. "I was surprised when I didn't see her with an ear pressed to the wall. Must hva egone off somewhere to rub her brains out."

But, as Steele said, it couldn't have happened to someone more deserving.

Weiss Schnee was the kind of person Steele would have hated even if she was raised in a normal family. Her family was rich as hell and she probably never knew what it felt like to want something but not be able to get it. Steele, who had to fight for every little bit of happiness she had in this life, hated Schnee for that. She hated her even more when she rejected Jaune like that in public.

Jaune wasn't anything more than an interest then. She didn't do crushed - not since the age of seven. She was bored and just teased the boy for the sake of it. But each and every time they met, he never stopped to inrigue her. He wasn't the strongest or the most vicious of a fighter. He was weak, in so many ways that she was surprised she spent time with him. But then she realized that it was his strong spirit that she found herself interested in.

She jokingly - though not entirely - asked him out on a date.

Only to get rejected because he loved Weiss. Not liked. Not fancied or wanted to fuck. He loved her. And, just like all else that he said, he said those words with sincerity. She hated how much it pained to hear those words. Well, whatever, she told herself back then. Not like she cared enough to be jealous or anything. She did, however, spit in venom that he could get rejected for all she cared.

When that happened, she felt awful. Not enough to angst or cry over, of course. But there was... something that she felt uncomfortable with. Something that made her seek Jaune out and offer him a comforting shoulder.

She wasn't sure why she did what she did next then. Why she kissed him and dragged him to their room. Was it pity? Just the frustration from work that she needed to release? Or was it that she saw it as her chance at happiness and love? It didn't matter then. So it didn't matter now.

"I love you, Jaune."

"I love you too."

She got her happily ever after.

Gods help any poor soul that was dumb enough to try and steal it away.

Weiss was in need of serious help. He had known that for the last few weeks ever since she decided to become his personal cuckquean. Even though he neither asked her to nor wanted her to do that in the first place.

Jaune watched the heiress come to the cafeteria with the air of pride and power she had seemingly abandoned weeks ago. Well, nothing good could come from it, he thought. And he was right when she approached Steele with the same fake polite smile and tone that she used when talking to Pyrrha at the start of the year. He used to think it was lovely. Now all he saw the selfish want for something she was denied.

"- and so, I am willing to offer you good money in exchange for making Jaune my exclusive sex slave."

Seriously, what the hell was wrong with her?

"I assure you, Steele, money is not all I offer, of course," Weiss smiled charmingly as she presented her with the image on her scroll. "My family has connections. Connections that could give you things normal people could never hope to receive. Like these."

Jaune got a glimpse of what Weiss was offering.

And he had to restrain himself from yelling at Weiss there and then.

"Proesthetics?"

Steele was quiet, her voice not quite angry or happy. It was the same voice she used when the two of them were alone. When she was hurt but refused to admit or show it. The topic of her legs was among the few things that were able to pierce through her usually iron-hard demeanor. Weiss crossed the line like that and for what? To get his dick that she couldn't even handle?

"Not just any proesthetics," Weiss grinned. "Those are the latest work of none other than Pietro Pollendina. I have seen what you work with and let me tell you, the tech that these ones have are beyond and above anything you might want. Speed, strength and even the function to store and use Dust! You won't find it anywhere on the market here. And even if you did, it would cast you a fortune."

She smiled, the same smile a predator showed its prey.

"So do we have a deal?"

"Sure."

"I see, in that case how about-"

Weiss froze, her expression impossible to tell. Somewhere between the shock and manic glee.

"Did you just agree?"

"Sure did," Jaune watched Steele whistle. "All the money and the new legs, huh? I really should start charging girls around here for Jaune's time."

Jaune wasn't sure what to make of it. Whenever the topic came to Weiss, his girlfriend hated even talking about her. And yet right now she looked as if she actually enjoyed time with her.

Their eyes met, the brief smirk she gave him along with the roll of her beatiful eyes assured Jaune that it was all some sort of plan of hers. All she wanted from him right now was to play along. And so he did. Without saying anything more, he followed the heiress and his girlfriend along towards their private room. Weiss kept talking about how Steele made the best decision in her life, continuing to list all the benefits from this arrangement.

Steele, meanwhile, hummed in agreement with only occasional word or joke that showed Weiss she was still listening. He didn't miss, however, the playful eager sway of his girlfriend's hips. Or the promise of a particularly fun night ahead.

"Now... Let's begin!" Weiss grinned, practically tearing off her dress. Her panties were positively drenched by now. "Steele, you may stay and watch us tonight. Think of it as me showing you I am worthy of your kindness."

Her words didn't match her tone. There was no gratitude or appreciation. Only the same haughty arrogance that made Jaune want to gag Weiss and keep her as such. Still, he trusted Steele's judgement so said nothing as he began to strip off his own clothes. He was halfway done with pulling off his hoodie when Weiss lunged at him, pushing him onto the bed.

She might have put on the face of a proud and strong heiress in charge. But that slipped off and was thrown out the window the moment she pulled out his cock. Without much posturing and talking, she swallowed it whole, which impressed Jaune somewhat. Last time he allowed her to try and suck him off, she choked with only a third of it down her throat before passing out.

"Ah wahm bwaininh!" she looked at him happily, too obsessed with keeping his cock in her mouth to properly speak. She looked like an animal. Dumb. Prideless. Only obsessed with getting her fill for the day. She tried to mumble something more. "Ahm ghun- AAAH!"

Steele was having none of it as she smacked Weiss' petite pale ass, leaving a quickly reddening mark.

"Don't get too full of of yourself just cause you can fit the whole thing in," she hissed in the girl's ear, her fingers playing around with her swollen folds. "If you want to impress me, you gotta deepthroat him like your life depends on it."

Or the deal was off. Even as cock-drunk and needy as she was, even Weiss understood the hidden message. And so she did her best to please him. It was clear that she trained for this, as messed up as that sounded. No more gagging or choking or breaking for air. Weiss' nostrils flared as she began to bob her head up and down his fully erect cock. Her eyes dulled, her focus drifting away as she inhaled more and more of his scent.

Jaune would lie if he said he didn't enjoy it. Her blowjob was far from his normal stuff. She lacked the skills the other girls had. But she made up for those with sheer desperation and hunger. The fact that her throat was much tighter also helped her case.

Not for long though.

"Off."

She looked at Steele confused, continuing to suck like a spoiler brat. Steele quickly reminded the girl who was in charge and pulled her off of him by her hair. Weiss yelped in pain and landed on her ass, whining about how she could feel him close to cumming. Which, to be fair, he was. Jaune got off bed and Steele started jerking his cock off. Hard full-length pumps up and down enchanted the heiress as she stared at his pulsing member with the same awe as one could stare at the divinity.

"Open wide, bitch. And don't you dare move."

Without any argument, her hands locked behind her head, Weiss stretched out her mouth as wide as she could. Her tongue lolled out in desperate need to taste his semen as she prepared herself for the load. She, however, wasn't ready for the loag as big as his. The thick fat load covered her face, tongue and her bare breasts. He continued to cum, covering more and more of her porcelain skin. He could see her shake with need to scoop up whatever cum landed away from her tongue and swallow it whole. But she resisted. She obeyed.

She still, however, looked positibely drunk, breathing in the smell and shivering with pleasure at the feeling of the heavy cream all over her body.

"Get back on the bed, Schnee," Steele slapped her across her face, bringing the heiress out of her cum-drunk stupor. "Spread your ass wide and open. Don't make me wait."

She hurried to do so, eyes full of excitement. Jaune positioned himself right at the entrance of her virgin ass shortly after, his cockhead poking against her tight rosy hole. He knew that she managed to stretch it out a bit after all the anal torture the other girls had put her through. But he doubted she was ready to handle him without breaking apart. Girls like Arslan and Blake were natural and able to take it. But arrogant sluts like Cinder and Malachites failed and now were so broken they lost any actual brain cells at the lightest of slaps across their asses.

It seemed the heiress would be joining the latter quite soon.

"Before Jaune starts fucking you, answer this one simple question for me, Schnee," Steele looked the girl straight in the eye, scooping up some of his cum with her finger before popping it into her mouth. "How easy do you think I am?"

"Wha-What are you talking about?"

"You really should stop yammering in your sleep," she hissed in her ear as she buried her fingers deep in Weiss' abused and denied cunt. "Red told me about your plans. How you want to get Jaune under your thumb. Even that sweet little wedding fantasy about me."

Even as her cheeks burned with lust, Weiss somehow managed to pale in fear and shock. Jaune had no doubt that Ruby would be rewarded though.

"I thought to myself, should I leave it be or do something? I mean, you have neither ass nor tits nor even the actual personality to hold onto a man like Jaune, let alone steal him away," she continued to play around with Weiss, dragging her tongue across her cum-coated cheek. "But then I told myself, that you are just too dumb to let go of your obsession with my man. The only way to end it is to put an end to your fantasies once and for all."

She motioned for him to act. And so he did, pushing his way inside her ass. The heiress screamed as she felt his thick pulsating cock tear its way inside of her. No lube or lovely mercy as she was forced to endure the burning sensation of his hot meatrod. Arching her back and rolling her eyes, she came then and there, squirting all over Steele's fingers as she passed out.

Almost.

"Not so fast, cunt!" a rough and fast smack across her face kept the girl from fainting on them. She looked positively afraid. "You are not leaving this place until we fuck your brains out and some manners in. Jaune?"

The wicked grin spread across his lips.

"Yes, Steele?"

She returned one of her own.

"Let's break her."

Didn't have to tell him twice.

Grabbing onto her hips, he started to thrust in and out. There were no soft kisses exchanged like he did with Steele. No tight embraces they shared. No foreplay or gentleness in his motions. Even the worst of the bunch like Cinder or Glynda weren't treated as roughly and mercilessly as she was right now. He showed her mercy the first time she tried to have sex with him. He thought that was enough to show her where she belonged. But he was wrong.

And now was the time to correct that mistake.

"How does it feel, Schnee?" Steele asked the heiress even as the girl laid there, eyes and mouth open wide in silent scream. "You thought being treated like a cuckquean was bad? Having to watch the man you rejected fuck other girls into bliss you would never know seemed like Hell to you? Now guess what."

She cupped her cheeks and planted a deep wet kiss on her lips, invading her mouth with her hungry tongue. Jaune would lie if he said watching his girlfriend violate the mouth Weiss was not hot. He made sure Weiss knew that as he began to brutally pump her up and down his cock. At this point, her pussy was gushing like a fountain, cumming every two minutes or so.

"Now you are not even that! You are nothing, Schnee! Not a slave. Not a pet. Not a cuckquean!" she grinned as she watched the heiress look at her in growing fear and awe. "You are our toy! A living and breathing fleshlight! Doesn't that feel great? To be treated like a set of holes for my boyfriend to occasionally fuck out of boredom or frustration?"

High on the insanity of it all, drunk on the smell of sex that filled their room, Steele began viciously playing with Weiss's tits. Twisting and pulling, groping and slapping them like her personal stress relief toys, Steele showed the girl no mercy even the latter begged for it incoherently. "No more! P-Please, no more! I was wrong! I was wrong! I was wrong and I am sorry! Please!" she pleaded, her face broken between two emotions. She was crying and sobbing, her eyes genuinely fearful and regretful. While at the same time her lips were stretched out in a smile, her tongue lolled out for more of Steele's kisses. "He is going to break me! I am going to break! Break and be nothing! Nothing but a whore! Please, I can feel it! I can cumming my brains out!"

As if to emphasize her point, Weiss came once more, spraying her juices all over him. She collapsed, whispering some gibberish about mercy and servitude. Heh, guess her brains did leak out just now.

"And now for the final part!"

With glee, Steele guided his cock into her cunt. Positioning herself above the heiress' face, Steele grinned as some clarity returned to the girl's eyes. Good, she wanted her conscious and coherent for that.

"Here's how things will be from now on, Schnee," she sat down on her. The girl, barely more than an animal now, began to obediently lick at her cunt. "You are no longer a student here. No longer huntress in training. I am merciful enough not to send you back home with a bastard in your belly. But your life as a human being is now officially over."

The girl began to lick more desperately as Jaune started mercilessly violating her cunt. How long has it been since she got any cock in there? Judging by how tight she clung to him, she would say way too damn long. Even as she rode the heiress face and Jaune was making her unable to be satisfied by anyone ever again, the two had no trouble sharing a kiss. After all, the girl currently struggling under them was barely more than a tool. A simple mindless toy.

"You will live here with us from now on," Steele ignored the muffled thanks and praises the heiress sang her. All she had to do was get Glynda to arrange this and it would be perfect for them. "Of course you are not allowed on bed unless we say so. Not that you will be getting much sleep anyway."

She squirted on top of her, enjoying the sheer desperation with which the heiress lapped up her juices.

"Cum inside her, Jaune! Let's give the heiress a present for her last day as a human being!" Her boyfriend smirked as he quickened his pace, brutally and shamelessly violating the girl beneath him. Finally, he reached his limit and came inside, sending the torrent of fresh potent semen into the girl's unprotected womb. And together with him, the two girls came as well. Steele's orgasm was wild, full of excitement and fire as she marked the girl under her pussy as their property. And Weiss' was just as violent as she gave up on three things.

Her quest for Jaune.

Her pride.

Her very humanity.

Who needed any of that? As long as she got fucked like that, she didn't care they treated her like a toy. Yes, this time, she learned her place for real. No more schemes or plans. No more fantasies and dreams of being Jaune's lover and Mistress. She would never be any of that. She never could be anything beyond the simple dumb toy for them to use to their heart's content.

"I love, Jaune."

"I love you, Steele."

She was pushed off the bed and onto the cold floor, catching the glimpse of the two engaging in a passionate make-out session. So warm. So alive. It was something she craved but now knew better than desire. With a dumb smile and eyes peaceful in defeat, she fingered her sloppy cum-filled cunt. Her new life was beginning now. And she buried her fingers deeper as she imagined.

Her being a Mistress? A superior to anyone?

Her mess of a brain now was in a much better place. Her a superior? Perish the thought, what a joke. She would be everyone's toy and pet. A walking and talking jizz rag and pain slut. And now there was no humiliation in that. Only love and acceptance. She would go on months or even years of keeping her holes untouched and denied. If her Master and Mistresses told her to strip, she would do so with an eager smile and no resistance.

When Winter would come and visit, she would make sure to introduce her to her betters. Because Schnee women were just submissive sluts and pets disguised as prideful warriors and royalty. She couldn't wait to bring both her sister and mom under Jaune and Steele's rule. To serve the two alongside her family. Yes... That would be a new definition of a Schnee in her mind.

Schnees were not superior or better than anyone.

They were just a bunch of inferior fools in need of a lesson.

And she would make sure that the whole Remnant knew that.

#rwby #size queen cuckquean #cuckquean au #cuckquean weiss #weiss schnee #steele black #jaune arc #commission

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theorangedead · 3 years

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There’s a widespread belief on tumblr that misinformation isn’t a big deal, it’s all funny jokes and people are just totally overreacting. This is untrue. Misinformation has been a large part of the alt-right and the strategies of neo-nazis and white supremacists in radicalizing others. It has directly lead to deaths. It is a problem and it’s one we need to start taking seriously. The truth is conspiracies have been used to target marginalized people for a long time, anti-semitism has been used like that for centuries, and we have a responsibility to look to to the truth to avoid misinformation being weaponized against vulnerable people.

It’s all fun and games except for the fact that there are organized misinformation campaigns that help corrupt right-wing politicians stay in power and pushes countries toward authoritarianism. And medical misinformation that literally killed people and contributed to the spread of a widespread pandemic that’s lead to the deaths of hundreds of thousands. And misinformation on environment and climate that might literally lead to the deaths of billions of people so polluters can delay climate action and make more money.

And, you know, the creep toward authoritarianism that’s caused by the fact that a functional democracy relies on access to accurate information.

Anyway, refusal to call out and identify and do anything on misinformation was a huge part of Trump’s rise to power and good on Twitter for finally taking a stand and labeling election misinformation. Is it great that social media platforms have to make the call on misinformation? No. If they don’t do it will organizations working without any transparency such as Cambridge Analytica be able to take control of the information people have access to and spread any narrative they want? Yes.

I hate that tumblr refuses to take misinformation seriously when it has been a huge part of the strategy of the alt-right and lead to huge amounts of radicalizing people into white nationalism and literally has a death toll.

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/2020/10/guide-to-overcoming-coronavirus-misinformation-infodemic/

https://www.theguardian.com/news/series/cambridge-analytica-files

https://www.theguardian.com/news/2018/mar/17/data-war-whistleblower-christopher-wylie-faceook-nix-bannon-trump

https://www.snopes.com/news/2020/09/25/grannies-are-spreading-qanon-conspiracy-theory-memes-on-facebook/

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/aug/01/conspiracy-theories-fbi-qanon-extremism

Misinformation spread around the election has been a huge tool for Trump trying to deny the election and push American into a further right, authoritarian path. Misinformation has been used for years to funnel people into white nationalist and alt-right extremism, which has lead to further danger and violence for marginalized people. Misinformation is literally killing people when it comes to science denial around the climate crisis and the current literal pandemic.

It’s not just dumbasses on the internet. There are organized and targeted campaigns of bots, who use the plausible deniability of dumbasses on the internet. There are stupid memes, but they’re stupid memes that can spread farther and faster than the truth. And people are dying for it, especially marginalized and vulnerable people.

So I give more of a shit about that then your “god-given right to post bullshit.” Platforms don’t have to host your bullshit if they don’t choose to and there’s nothing god-given about that. It’s your to use your voice to spout bullshit just as much as its someone’s right not to wear a mask: you can chose to engage in activities that pose a risk to others, but you can’t demand that others provide you services as you do so.

I have been taken in by misinformation before. You have, too, probably. It’s endemic and impossible to avoid in this day and age. That doesn’t make it harmless. We’re all wrong and misinformed sometimes; that’s okay. But there are people are are organizing and taking advantage of that to manipulate people, and it’s important to be aware of this. We need to start being more aware and being more seriously about information ourselves as best we can. We can’t do it perfectly, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take it seriously.

#misinformation #tumblr #politics #us politics #alt right #white supremacy #radicalizing #not like socialist or communist radicalizing #like neo nazi stuff #antisemitism #conspiracy theories #conspiracy #trump #i replied something similar on a post of someone dismissing misinformation #but that person is some 17 yo kid so i don't want to pin their dumb post #they don't deserve that #but yeah misinformation is a serious thing #take it from a jew #misinformation and propaganda has lead to incredible amounts of violence against us

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

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#1yrago The Copyright Office just greenlit a suite of DRM-breaking exemptions to the DMCA

Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act bans bypassing "access controls" for copyrighted works -- that is, breaking DRM.

This was stupid when the DMCA passed in 1998, and it only got stupider since: back in 1998, DMCA 1201 was used to punish people who made region-free DVD players or homebrew Sega Dreamcast games. Today, every gadget has thousands of lines of copyrighted code, putting any "access control" on the gadget within reach of the DMCA, which has led manufacturers to claim that the DMCA gives them the right to decide who can make software for your stuff, how you can use your stuff, and who can fix your stuff. DMCA 1201 has been used to intimidate and even jail security researchers who found defects in products with DRM, which means that the people who want to warn you about problems with the gadgets you trust can't come forward without permission from the companies that stand to lose money if the news gets out.

Every three years, the Copyright Office hears petitions for "use exemptions" to the DMCA: these exemptions let you break DRM to engage in some kind of legit activity, like jailbreaking a phone or conducting security research.

This year, many groups petitioned the Copyright Office for a wide variety of exemptions and the Copyright Office just published its detailed conclusions setting out which exemptions were granted, which ones were denied, and which ones were partially granted.

It's an extremely encouraging document! The Copyright Office granted the majority of exemptions, including key exemptions around the right to repair and legal protection for security research. They did partially or completely deny some vital petitions, unfortunately, including ones related to jailbreaking media to make fair uses, and some related to preserving old video games.

Encouraging as this all is, there is one important and infuriating element to keep in mind: while the Copyright Office grants "use exemptions," it does not believe it has the right to make "tools exemptions" -- exemptions that would allow an expert to make a tool for disabling DRM so that you can make the uses they've permitted you to make. In other words, the Copyright Office says, "You're allowed to jailbreak your Iphone, but no one is allowed to give you an Iphone jailbreaking tool, and if you make a tool for your own use you can't share it or even tell people how it works."

That's pretty weird, but the infuriating part is when you bring this up with DRM advocates and the Copyright Office: they say, "Well, once the law is out of the way, people will just figure it out." In other words: "DRM is actually kinda bullshit and people who want to get around it will." But if that's the case, what is DRM supposed to be for? If any "bad guy" (someone who doesn't care about permission from the Copyright Office) who wants to get around DRM can do so, who is the DRM supposed to restrict?

That's right: honest people. People who want to do legitimate things, like fix their stuff, or format-shift their stuff, or just buy some third-party ink and have it work with their printer. These are the only people DRM works against (otherwise, granting "use exemptions" would be pointless). If these people wanted to do things that broke the law -- like making infringing copies of Bluray movies -- the law already allows companies to punish them. DRM doesn't exist to protect companies' rights, it exists to let them invent new rights (the right to decide which screen you can watch a movie on, for example), and then make those rights legally enforceable, by adding illegal-to-remove DRM to their products.

https://boingboing.net/2018/10/25/use-exemptions.html

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jswdmb1 · 4 years

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I Wanna Be Sedated

“Hurry, hurry, hurry

before I go insane

Can't control my fingers,

can't control my brain”

- The Ramones

All of our resources have been focused on two things: keeping people alive and keeping the economy afloat. It is hard to argue the prioritization of those two areas and it is understandable that there are not resources beyond what we have already marshalled to focus on anything further down the list. But I worry that we are just burying another landmine in the ground that we’ll be stepping on sooner than later if we forget about it. I am talking about the complete and brutal destruction of our mental health both collectively and individually.

Before I go further, I must repeat that I completely support the efforts of social shutdown and shelter in place that are currently in effect. It is literally the only tool we have to fight this pandemic as our leaders (most specifically the president) mocked its potential wrath when more could have been done to prepare and now we are boxed into a corner. Experts warned long before this man even got nominated by his party that he was unfit for this office and an existential threat to our way of life. It was just a matter of time before his vulgarity, stupidity and incompetence manifested into real pain and destruction, and that time is now. I bring this up before delving into my primary subject because I still see polls and news reports that show there is a large percentage of people who still think there is overreaction to the crisis and that the president is doing a good job handling it. If you believe either of those things, please stop reading now because you do not have the intellectual capacity to grasp what I am going to say.

Now that we have established how we got here and who is responsible, the real question that everyone has on their minds is what is next. We have been told to shelter-in-place for the foreseeable future and been given no further instructions. The economic bill passed yesterday is the equivalent of treating a gunshot wound with a band-aid, and will be of little use as a real solution to the financial devastation that most people will experience long after those checks run out. This combination has made it increasingly hard to keep strong mentally as the massive uncertainty weighs on our minds literally every hour of the day. For a few days, we found some solace in things like getting outside, but now that is being quashed as acceptable. We are pretty much under a house arrest with no defined sentence and we are being punished for no crime we ever committed. Even a prisoner gets access to basic services such as counseling and religious freedoms, but not those of us at home. In war, there is something known as collateral damage, and our civil liberties are fitting that description for the current crisis. On top of all of that, the weather in my part of the country has been miserable. It all adds up to one very grim picture.

Some of you may not like that I am painting such a picture, but that to me contributes to our mental health crisis in the same way that putting our heads in the sand about the virus got us to where we stand today. I am not alone in feelings of anxiety or depression, but it’s well known I have had both long before the virus hit our shores. I feel it gives me a little bit of a perspective on this issue and why I see it a potentially more damaging long-term than anything we are experiencing today. What I can tell you from experience is that it is not possible to work through profound feelings of depression by “just being positive”. The two worst things you can tell a depressed person is that they have to remain positive and they need to work themselves out of their mood. That is akin to telling someone who is drowning that they need to come up for air and should go look for a lifejacket when they do. Yet, all I see on social media and the news is that this is the “new normal” and “we’ll get through this”. What are you talking about? There is nothing normal about this at all. Why on earth would anyone accept it as such? And, how do you know that we’ll get through this? What are you basing that on? Have you been through a deadly pandemic before? Have you sat under quarantine for weeks that will soon turn into months? It literally grates on my nerves to hear such things as good tools to use to “get us out of our funk”.

So, that begs the question about what do we do? I will not pretend to have any real answers and certainly there is no quick fix. But first, we all have to acknowledge that this problem exists, and it is at least on par with the other aspects of this crisis. And don’t say that it isn’t life-or-death because it is. I predict in a matter of weeks, not months, that you will see a morbidly sharp increase in the suicide rate. This is also incredibly damaging to the efforts of those trying to recover from addiction diseases, and many will not only succumb to their addictions without a support system to help them, but they will die as a result of this. And the casualties are not limited to those who don’t make it. The deep psychological scars left on the rest of us that manage to get through this will not heal without significant intervention. I am particularly worried about our teens and young adults who were already not in a good place and I think are suffering more than most when it comes to the social isolation steps being implemented. We all need to acknowledge that we are experiencing acute mental trauma and we cannot simply accept that as “normal”.

If you cannot accept this as fact, then there is not much more I can do to help you. You are going to suffer a similar fate as those who don’t believe we are in the middle of a deadly pandemic in the first place. But if you are willing to accept that your mental health is (or will be) destroyed as a result of this, there are a couple of things that I have learned over the years that can help you cope:

Depression, pain and anxiety are normal feelings and you should not feel guilty for feeling them. By all means do not suppress those feelings as they fester without an outlet. Also be aware that those around you will have these feelings as well and don’t shame them for not being “positive” or “constructive” for expressing them. It is going to take a lot of patience along with some give and take to work with each other on this, but if we deny ourselves or others the freedom to express these emotions, we can’t even get started with healing.

Recognize that while many tools have been taken way from us that usually can be a big help, many others are still available. We have to just be more creative and look for other doors that may be open when others have been shut. One of my main outlets has been a group running program where I coach, and that is now gone in its old form. But we are working hard to still get out and run (solo and never congregating) and support each other virtually. It is not perfect, but it would be wrong to dismiss the sense of community we have built over the years because it is still alive and well no matter how far apart we are kept. It may even be stronger when we eventually can see each other again. That is just one example. I recommend you take whatever you had before and look for ways to retool and still use that as something you can have that is a positive force in your life. It could be that you have that taken away at some point, but then go back and retool it again. If GM can retool its operations from cars to ventilators, we can certainly do the same on our micro levels.

Avoid using alcohol and drugs as a crutch. I can tell you from direct experience that this is just about the worst way to deal with depression. I am not saying you cannot enjoy a drink now and then, but I have already seen anecdotal evidence in some of my interactions on social media and elsewhere that this is not the case. I know that I sound preachy here, but I’m just trying to help as I’m sure many of you may have not experienced profound depression like this before. There is no doubt that the drink or drug of your choice feels good for a little bit and may even help you forget, but it is an incredibly slippery slope.

For those who have committed to sobriety before this all went down, please hold onto that. It may be the only thing you have left that they can’t take away, and it is too valuable to give up so easily. I know it is hard, the thought of heading down to the liquor store (which incredibly is still open and considered “essential”) has passed through my head more than once, but you have to let that feeling pass. You know better than I that what I say in the preceding paragraph is true and heading off the path to sobriety will be a disaster. I have heard that support groups are still meeting (as they have also been deemed essential) so consider a way to attend those (even virtually) if you are struggling with temptation. If you have no such support mechanism, contact me directly through FaceBook Messenger. I am always willing to talk to someone who needs to work though a moment of crisis. It’s a ridiculously impossible situation, but there is no other choice to hold on.

I know that I sound like I am on a soapbox here, but that is not my intent. This is more of a plea to everyone out there not to forget that mental health is a critical component of living and bodies free of disease are useless if our brains can’t function within them. Please just remember that as you deal with the people in your house and those you interact with virtually. While you may think you have the right answer in telling people to stay happy and chipper during a dark time, that is not how everyone feels and it could be damaging to their mental health if you ignore the danger signs they are presenting. My guess is that anyone who has gone this far into reading this already knows that, but it is going to take some reminding for even the most empathetic and caring person among us. Starting now can hopefully get ahead of issues that are already taking root so that we can move forward much more quickly with “normal” life if such a thing ever exists again.

In the meantime, I sincerely hope that this finds you healthy and safe and that you are coping with the mental aspects of the situation better than me. One outlet I have is this blog, and I have thought about suspending it during the crisis because I don’t have anything to say that people want to hear. After writing this post, I realize now that would be the easy way out, and at the risk of being unpopular, I can not give up the fight to protect the most important organ in our bodies – our brain. So, I’ll keep on keepin’ on, but just remember that I really am trying to help. I don’t want anyone to end up in a place that they can’t leave. We’ve come too far to let that happen.

Please take care everybody,

Jim

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phinnsyreads · 4 years

Audio

Item #: SCP-056

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-056 is to be kept in a room of its choosing, with whatever furnishings it expresses desire for. Level 1 personnel and above may interact with SCP-056 at any time they choose, for a time length not exceeding two hours. The subject is to be guarded by a minimum of three (3) security staff at all times, with shift changes every four hours. Each guard is to be armed with non-lethal tranquilizer pistols, loaded with no less than fifteen hundred (1500) microliters of cyclopyrrolone tranquilizer. Any irregularities in personnel and staff developed by extended exposure to SCP-056 will result in psychological examination and relocation to site [DATA EXPUNGED].

The subject is to be allowed access to any object it desires, with the exceptions of weapons, communication devices, an internet connection, and other SCP objects. It may wander in Research Sector ██ as it wills, but never allowed access to floors with exits. In the event of an emergency, or if SCP-056 becomes violent, it is to be subdued and contained within its room if possible. At no time should personnel attempt to harm SCP-056; see Addendum 2-b.

Description: SCP-056 is a being of variable size, gender, and appearance, which changes in response to the environment around it, especially in regards to living and sentient beings. Its most common form is of a handsome man in his middle twenties, dressed in a garb of similar appearance to that of the personnel guarding it but of a higher quality and aesthetic value. However, it has been recorded as taking these forms:

A large, well groomed Labrador Retriever (when exposed to Doctor █████ ████'s dog).

A female doctor in a white lab coat when speaking with various researchers. When asked to take an IQ test, the subject scored nearly thirty (30) points higher than the highest scoring researcher available.

A male bodybuilder, who was able to lift nearly two-hundred and fifty (250) kilogrammes twice on a bench press machine in the Sector's gym. This was thirty (30) kilogrammes heavier than the strongest security guard's maximum at the time.

A couch of extremely pleasing aesthetic value (when left alone in the subject's room).

These changes will generally occur the moment all people in the area lose focus on the subject, which occurs immediately upon exposure to a new object or person (See Addendum 3). Filming these changes has proved inconsequential, as any viewing the tapes or feed suffer the same momentary confusion. Clothing will also change during this time, though 056 has yet to manifest any sort of tools or weapons.

It is theoretically impossible to view SCP-056's original or "natural" form. When left in an empty, concrete cell and under closed-loop video surveillance, it took on the form of a higher quality camera, and appeared to monitor the camera watching it. Further attempts to yield its natural form discovered that when alone, it had no readable life signs, including body temperature, heart beat, or weight. It is assumed by researchers that it could not exist without any sort of perception.

Personnel in contact with the subject often report feeling "jealous" or "unsatisfied", yet will often give a great deal of both positive and negative attention to SCP-056, which can be predicted by their personality types. Security staff will often claim that they wish to follow the subject's commands, even if they dislike it or its current form, while researchers in extended contact with it will often try to argue and verbally abuse it, which usually results in the subject sending them out in shame.

SCP-056 is quite capable of speech, and can apparently communicate in any language, verbal or not, and has shown fluency in over 200 dialects, including those invented by cryptographers and hobbyists. It frequently treats the staff around it with disdain, though is generally willing to do whatever is asked of it, so long as the inquiring does so in a submissive way. It expresses interest in magazines, fashion, automobiles, theoretical science, sports, and a multitude of other subjects, usually expressing greater knowledge and understanding of the topic than the person communicating with it. Personnel will generally become angry, disenchanted, or disgusted with SCP-056 after speaking with it for great lengths of time, though they will try to speak with it again if possible. When questioned about other SCPs, it showed fear and occasionally hatred, and refused to speak about any of them, even objects classified as Safe.

Additional: Subject was found to be working for the clothing design company [REDACTED], after an unusual number of homicides, suicides, and mental breakdowns of other models when working around SCP-056. When Class E personnel attempted to detain it, their mannerisms provoked it to change into what appeared to be the form of [DATA EXPUNGED] resulting in the deaths of seventeen (17) agents and ten (10) civilians. The incident was covered up by claiming an employee suffering from psychopathy brought a firearm to work and attacked other workers.

Addendum 1: Those with Level 4 or above clearance refer to document #956-0.

Document #956-0

Audio recording of first encounter with SCP-056

Agent ███████: Hey, listen up… whatever you are. You're under arrest for murder.

SCP-056: No. Go away.

(Clicking noises. Agent has drawn his weapon.)

Agent ███████: You need to come with us right now.

SCP-056: You don't want to do that, you stupid little man.

(Expressions of surprise, presumably from onlookers)

Agent ███████: The fuck? It looks just like [DATA EXPUNGED]!

(Gunshots and screaming)

Addendum 2-a: See document #956-1.

Document #956-1

Behavioral Testing for SCP-056

Testing Procedures: [DATA EXPUNGED]

Addendum 2-b: Results

One (1) male Class D Personnel, armed with knife. Intent: to harm subject. (Subject appeared as a lean, fit man of approximately twenty years of age. Subject proceeded to disarm and kill personnel.)

One (1) female Class D Personnel, bearing a bottle of fine wine. Intent: to offer subject gift. (Subject appeared as a beautiful woman, accepted the gift, and upon tasting, spit it back in the personnel's face before waving her away.)

Two (2) Class D Personnel, both male and female, carrying nothing and intending nothing. (Subject appeared as a beautiful woman in a well-tailored business suit. Examined both personnel, then dismissed them.)

Ten (10) Class D Personnel, all male, intending and carrying nothing. (Subject appeared as a beautiful woman, dressed in a low-cut red dress. After approximately ten minutes, all personnel began showing signs of irritation, and five minutes later broke out in fighting. Subject waved them away after watching them for seven minutes.)

One (1) female Level 4 Personnel, voted to be best looking woman on facility, carrying nothing, intending nothing. Note: Following an investigation by the Ethics Committee, all personnel responsible for and participant in this vote have been amnesticized and removed from Foundation employment. (Subject appeared as an extremely aesthetically pleasing woman, and displayed a large lexicon and understanding of management skills. Spoke to personnel for nearly ninety minutes, until personnel became infuriated and left the room.)

Addendum 3: Note from Doctor Kennith:

I was recently informed that 056 has repeatedly requested access to the internet. When I asked 056 about this, it told me that we were "unable to provide [it] with enough sycophants", and that it "wanted the whole world to know [its] face." Needless to say, its request was denied.

===

[The voice of the Agent was provided by @navox-the-weary.] [The voice of SCP-056 was provided by @ryanvoid.] [The voices of the onlookers were provided by @phantomancer, Grantham Stieber, @iridethedirt, Joseph Williamson, and Spera Crinis.] [The voice of Dr. Kennith was provided by Spera Crinis.]

===

[Enjoy the podcast? Consider supporting us on Patreon! Patrons get access to bonus Joke episodes, outtakes, and can even request episodes on specific SCP objects.]

#phinnsy #scp foundation #reading #voiceover #storytelling #podcast #sci-fi #horror #urban legend #folklore #fiction #scp 056

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themodestwoman · 5 years

Text

D&D (Mis)Adventures!!! (Christmas Edition)

We (mother, father DM, sister, me) sit down for this one day session. We’re told that we are elves having to go meet Santa. Why? Because we’ve made the naughty list!

Khaladriel (the walking collateral damage, sometimes called collateral sometimes called calamity by those who know her) works for the Christmas cheer sector of the pole. She monitors lists, communicates with all kinds of living creatures, and tries to explain the true meaning of Christmas beyond just presents and decorations. She returns to the message of the baby Jesus and about entering into people’s lives. She is also a maaaaaajor foodie. She is never without food or Christmas spirit glitter bombs that have general magic properties. See first two pictures and elf on left.

Bob (the builder, who works for the toy development section) is an old, pudgy, cynical elf. He believes Santa is enslaving elves and has a general grouchy disposition. He carries tinkering tools (typically a handsaw and mallet), sling with a flask of spiked nog. He has a proclivity for always creating guns as toys. Legitimate guns. He is constantly moved to gentler and gentler toy assignments while Santa and the elves are constantly surprised by how he manages to work guns into his projects. Pictured in middle.

Tinsel (the decorator) is a ditsy blonde elf who wants to sing Christmas songs and decorate. She is never without garland and other decorations. She is pictured on the right, wrapped in garland, Christmas lights, and carrying mistletoe.

To get on the naughty list, Bob had built a snow shooter for decorating houses with. He is attempting to help Tinsel with her job. Khaladriel, walking by innocently with her bag of marshmallows, gets pulled aside. They load the gun with marshmallow and cover the town with the sticky food, landing then in Santa’s office.

Santa explains that with 12 days to Christmas, they have to do some work to get off the naughty list (not onto the nice list though). Three tasks. He gives them a magic whistle to blow when they finish so they can return. We have one rule: don’t be naughty.

First, to get mistletoe. The three get thrown into a portal to go get the plant. Due to a calamity check, Khaladriel crashes into Bob upon landing. They are near an orchard and a house. They decide initially to go to the orchard, but a dog comes running after them. While they could climb a tree by climbing on each other, when Tinsel and Bob run Khaladriel stays behind to greet the puppy, looking for a stick to play fetch with it. It picks her up and runs off to deposit her in its house full of bones. She uses bones to play fetch with the beast larger than her while her friends come running through the snow after her. The lady of the house, Miss Elto, comes out and tells the dog to attack. She is a real Scrooge, saying Nicholas has sent stupid elves around again and is very unhappy. The dog house collapses, as Calamity has caused Khaladriel to have thrown a support beam when playing fetch. The builder fixes it as best he can and they convince the woman to leave them alone.

The group debates on the meaning of the mission, Tinsel recalls that Santa’s first rule was to not get caught (interpretation?) and decides he means the plant. Bob and Khaladriel decide Santa meant miss Elto, not mistletoe, on Khaladriels input that Christmas isn’t about just the surface stuff people see. There’s deeper meaning to everything. They decide they need to spread Christmas cheer to the woman and build her a gift. Going to the shed to work, they decide on earmuffs and blinds to help her shut out the noise and sight world (bobs input) and keep her warm~ (Khaladriel’s input). Tinsel, meanwhile, goes into the forest to successfully harvest LOTS of mistletoe. Bob builds shutters and warm earmuffs using the fur on their hats. The blinds, however, wind up too big to move. They search out a snow plow to use as transportation as Tinsel gets back. Khaladruel hops on and starts trying to start the plow, getting it fired up and going fast to make a path to the house. On a successful control animals check, she has the path going directly to the house.

Tinsel would like Bob to blow the whistle to return to the pole, mistletoe in hand. However, he is determined to deliver his gift and builds a rolling table so the two can transport the gifts. Meanwhile, a nearly botched check means Khaladriel actually does not have control of the plow and crashes into the house. Had calamity check is a nat 20, causing severe damage. The woman, furious, sicks Holly the dog on Khaladriel and grabs a gun. When she has that, she sends the dog after the 2 coming to the house and fires at Khaladriel, hitting her. The dog does damage to Tinsel while Bob, determined, continues to the last. Khaladriel flees, screaming apologies as she goes. Bob gets the gift to the woman, who stops. She is touched by their generosity, having never been given a gift before. She calls the dog off, sends it to fetch Khaladriel, and the three (two once Bob inputs that Khaladriel is not allowed to touch sharp objects), set to fixing the porch. It takes 7 days, but it is fixed better than it was before. They ask her if she will come with to the North Pole, convinced Santa wants a word with her. Her agreeable nature was begrudging to start, and even moreso when she realizes she must ride a flying reindeer to travel, but they persuade her to go.

After traveling at light speed back to the freezing pole, the elves recall that their magic resistance to cold is not shared by the human race. She is all but frozen solid, and other elves have to come use a crane to remove her from the reindeer. Khaladriel runs to get Santa while Bob gets a drink. “Santa! Santa! We did it, we got her!”

“You’ve finished? It took you seven days!”

“But we finished~”

“Where’s the mistletoe?”

“She’s in the sleigh room.”

“She?”

“Miss Elto?”

“What?! No, I said *mistletoe!” 😖 “you’ve abducted our neighbor? She hates Christmas.”

And so Santa goes, uses magic to restore her. She is irate, Tinsel gives Santa a piece of the mistletoe she successfully retrieved and he holds it up, revealing that it is magic and is a sign of peace. Miss Elto calms and accepts that it was a mistake. Santa accepts that they technically finished their job, but now he’s used the mistletoe and it can be used magically once. Tinsel reveals she grabbed a lot, having been the only one to successfully accomplish the correct goal, and gives him more.

It is now their job to go for Silk. Santa explains he means literal silk, reminds them not to be naughty, and tosses them through yet another portal.

Through the portal they go once more, tumbling out in front of a creepy decrepit factory. They go in, looking for silk. Upstairs first, they find none stored. Going downstairs, they see through a hole in the wall that there’s an elevator. Bob decides the elevator is the best mode of travel. Khaladriel sees the bannister is good for sliding and jumps up. Tinsel, afraid of both, will take her chances with the creaky stairs sloooowly. She lights her lights to see.

Khaladriel laughs and squeals as she slides, but on a failed dex check and another nat 20 calamity check, crashes at the first bend of stairs and goes falling two floors down. She attempts to grab onto elevator cables as she passes through the shaft, but completely wipes out.

Bob travels with creepy elevator music, perfectly at peace in his own twisted bad elf way. The elevator shakes, he hears crashing and screaming of Khaladriel, but is overly familiar with why they call her Calamity and doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He gets into the caves, webs everywhere. He starts assessing, looking for silk being smart enough to know the caterpillars spin webs of silk. He hears muffled noises, looking above him to see various cocoons around. He notices movement periodically around him. Quickly, he identifies that one of the cocoons is still moving. He realizes he is too short to access it and shouts to the others, “come help me!”

“Alpha formation beta, GO!” Khaladriel shouts, immediately ready to spring into action to help her friend. However, from inside the webs all Bob hears are the muffled words, now identifying it as his friend who is stuck. She wiggles her way out, falling 15 feet and narrowly missing Bob. He arms her with a mallet, having already noted other movement. Recovering quickly, she begins walking around, “helloooooo?! Caterpillars?!... spiders??” She also notices movement and puts her index fingers in front of her mouth to imitate pincers, making clicking noises.

Tinsel gets to the bottom finally, staying back near the stairs spooked.

The spiders descend. Khaladriel immediately begins communicating while Bob, assuming she’s crazy, hides/climbs up for a sneak attack. He hits, and the spider falls onto Khaladruel. Tinsel runs to hide, but gets stuck and has more spiders around her.

Khaladriel screams at Bob that she’s communicating and shouts to Tinsel to use mistletoe. Tinsel takes the fetal formation, covering her face with one hand and holding up the plant with the other. The spiders calm, and Khaladriel takes up communicating again. She explains why Bob attacked mistakenly, and that they want silk. The spiders want food. They ask to eat Tinsel in exchange, but Khaladriel offers to put in a word with Santa and get them a cow for Christmas. They agree, and the three begin harvesting silk from the cocoons of the dead factory workers.

Khaladriel asks to blow the whistle, but Bob denies her. They go back to the pole, the other elves appalled by the dead flesh and grunge of the silk. They immediately send for the fat man, who is less than pleased with their accomplishments. Magically, he cleans the silk and sends it off. He notes that the factory is overrun, and we tell him we’ve promised the spiders a cow.

The final task, to tell Ralphie he’s on the naughty list. His brother Ronnie made nice list, but we need to help Ralphie. Upon arrival in this dessert area, we are outside a cave. Turns out, Ralphie and Ronnie and a two headed Cyclopes. They can’t get along well enough to even manage to act properly as a body. Bob takes to using scare tactics, warning them of three ghosts that will visit in the night. Tinsel starts singing. Khaladriel goes in to talk to them and start finding out what’s happened. Eventually the other two join in the cave and begin trying to find out what’s going on and convince Ralphie to be nice. This scene is chaotic, as the three elves can’t even get along. Ralphie tries to lift a gun to fire at them, but cannot without Ronnie’s hand.

Khaladriel stokes up a fire for cocoa, but in a Clamorous way the fire becomes a roaring flame which starts smoking out the cave and knocks the Etton unconscious. He eventually wakes up and crawls out. Bob, pleased with the teamwork that required, offers them a high five. Both raise their hands to high five him and they end up double face planted in the ground. This causes more fighting, but they work together to lift the gun. Only in warning about Ronnie ending up on the naughty list do they stop again.

Eventually Khaladriel emerges with cocoa. They drink. It turns out Ralphie was given the gun by his parents so they can defend themselves when peasants come to attack them. Ronnie won’t let then practice because he wants a pet fat orange cat that Ralphie will just want to shoot. Ralphie has been poking Ronnie in the eye a lot and calling him stupid in frustration. We get them to agree to compromise and start working together. Each agrees begrudgingly, so long as Santa brings what they want.

And so, bribery wins out as Bob would say. He lets Khaladriel blow the whistle, which she takes a comical anime style huge breath and way overdoes (seeing as its magic). Bob knowingly covers his ears. They ride back, keenly aware that they have somehow underfulfilled this mission.

Back at the pole, they inform Santa of what happened. Santa says he only gives pets to kids with parent permission (which we warned them to obtain) and he doesn’t give ammo to naughty kids. Just because Ralphie is off the naughty list doesn’t mean he’ll be on the nice list within 5 days. Similarly for us.

The DM informs us we’re at our final courses of action. We are no longer naughty, but we aren’t nice yet. Are we okay with this? Do we want to be nice? How?

Tinsel leaves. She tells her friends all about how Santa tried to have her killed and is thoroughly traumatized.

Bob and Khaladriel scheme. They decide, in a twist, they’re okay not being nice. Christmas is about more than toys. However, Ralphie and Ronnie showed potential. They decide to break into the list after it’s checked twice and add Ralphie to the nice list (Khaladriel’s doing) and ensure they each get what they asked for (Bobs doing). They succeed, Bob believing they pulled a fast one and that the fat man can be manipulated so long as you know how to avoid being seen by the beholder ornament while Khaladriel assumes Santa knows (because he knows everything) and has allowed this to happen because they are acting selflessly.

And so ended our Christmas campaign.

#dnd #christnas #(mis)adventures #funny #elves #art #D&D

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maelsonga · 5 years

Note

write more meta about her parents because um its painful and beautiful tnx

oh boy, we’re really doing this. i’m gonna try to stay true to the definition of ‘meta’ & not just turn this into a headcanon but it might be both. either way there’s gonna be a crapton of stuff to uncover so, uh, hold on tight.

first off, if you ask morgan about her parents it’s extremely unlikely to ever get a reply past the regular ‘dad was a dick, mom is gone’. it’s the most anyone could get from her, perhaps the most anyone ever really got from her. her parents, whether she’ll admit it or not, are the constant thought haunting her, demons following each & every step of hers around. but she doesn’t think about them, not actively. there isn’t a single thing about soren christensen or maren andersen that doesn’t hurt her to her core. not a single happy memory that doesn’t backfire & turn into a gut punch, not one. the biggest inheritance they have ever left her is a vast pit of trauma she doesn’t know how to handle, she wouldn’t know where to begin.

despite her apathy, her apparent numbness, morgan is desperate. she’s been orphaned the day her mother died, even before her father was arrested. the subsequent care of her aunt never truly made up for the gaping void maren left behind, & soren after her.

she is exactly like them, & she knows this. perhaps that’s the thing that’s hurt her the most.

she has maren’s tendency to melancholy, to long, outstretched silences & to looking for her own echo in the storm. she has her skill in keeping the pain inside, & turning it into music. at the end, all she has is her sadness.

& she has her father’s weakness. the self-destructive ways, the stupid, illogical way to pile up shame & misbehavior on their backs just to somehow justify feeling so miserably low. an anger, a need to set everything on fire & yet still somehow that never happens — too weak to even light a match.

but the truth is, morgan has been truly alone since the age of 12. maddie couldn’t really take care of her, nor did she want her to — it was just morgan & the two demons, & the awareness that when she would call to them, when she would beg for an answer, the only thing that would reply was the void.

lost, having to navigate life on her own, morgan has grown to embody both her parents more & more each day, emphasizing the two sides of her that have always been her distinctive traits — the music & the addiction, the sacred & the profane. maren & soren.

years ago, on an old blog of morgan’s, i wrote a meta trying to explain her entire personality in terms of red vs. blue. two colors to represent two different & opposing side of hers. as explained in this other meta too, there are two sides of mo, coexisting & competing with one another. thinking about it, they could easily be related to both her parents;

the blue side is the side she draws from maren. it is the side of her that feels, & feels in thunders & storms, in waves & whirlpools. it’s a side that begs to be let out but is caged, trapped inside. an attentive observer might spot it in her eyes, shining dark with a turmoil of feelings she doesn’t know how to express. the blue side is the side of sorrowful passion being poured into music, the side that aches to write lyrics & notes. if it were an instrument, it would be her mother’s piano — covered in dust, beneath the window facing the ocean, as still as the day maren has died. the blue side is morgan’s truest core, her more honest part. it’s the tender heart beneath a million layers, the point almost no one ever reaches. a relic forgotten at the bottom of the ocean, a sunken wreck — in a way, atlantis.

the red side is her father’s, & it’s the side of anger. an anger that’s quiet, but no less destructive. an anger that’s constant & annihilating, a black hole filtering every feeling & trapping emotions inside, deep within, so far even she can’t access them. the red side is the side that tethers between numbness & a desperate need to feel alive, but in all the wrong ways. the side that first drew her to drinking first & to pills afterwards, the side that begs for careless lovers & bruises, for violence & self-destruction, unsure whether it is to wake herself up or punish herself. if the red side was an instrument it’d be her father’s guitar, worn out & scarred by time, but its notes loud & rough as whiskey pouring down your throat.

the blue side feels, the red side denies feelings. the blue side is water, the ocean, storms. the red side is fire, alcohol, noise. it burns her up & leaves a shell of her, stone & nothing more. the blue side is more projected towards her subconscious & inner self, while the red side is all about physicality & tangible sensations.

now, it would be easy to mistake these two sides for a metaphor of good & evil, but that would mean ignoring how dependent on each other her two sides are, & how blurred into each other, too. the blue side might be her most creative side but it’s also the one that drives her to walk into the ocean & try to take her own life. the red side sounds like simple violence, but it’s also the side of bonfires & friendly gatherings, of looking for people & the comfort of strangers, the warmth of a body next to her. it’s a blur, really, & a way to summarize the complexities of a person with traumas for days & a persistent & untreated mental condition known as ‘persistent depressive disorder’. there’s no simple way to make sense of her.

either way, the red & blue metaphor can also somehow translate to her approach to relationships.

as i’ve developed morgan, she has had plenty of flirts & relationships, & i’ve found she has different ways of approaching partners whether they’re female-identifying or male-identifying. this is something unconscious, something that happens naturally without her controlling it. i think it definitely has to do with the image of women & men her parents have projected into her, maren & soren having somehow being idolized & turned to archetypes of ‘woman’ & ‘man’.

she approaches women in a ‘softer’ way, catering mostly to her inner self, to her ‘soul’ so to say — she looks for a sort of spiritual connection rather than a physical ones, though it doesn’t mean the sexual aspect is ignored in a relationship with a woman, quite the contrary. she has subconsciously turned the idea of her mother into a somewhat ‘catholic’ archetype of a woman, a holy woman, a merciful woman & yet powerful & noble, entirely unlike herself & for that very reason someone from whom she needs to ask forgiveness & compassion. she is naturally intimidated by most women, as if they all represented an ideal she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. it doesn’t mean she would fall to a woman’s knees in a second, no — she acts the same with men & women & non-binary people, being the old usual asshole we all know & love. these differences happen at a subconscious level, & they simply affect her approach to flirtation — she is less likely to initiate flirting with a woman, but way more likely to want to keep on a conversation, & to listen.

men & male-identifying people are an entirely different story. men, most of the time, are a tool for her to use against herself, something to draw pleasure & pain from. she begs to be used & discarded, drunk up in a haze & spat back out. she enjoys their company on a physical level but never lets them in, never pulls her guard down, like even opening up just slightly could be an invitation for them to truly hit her where it hurts. again, it’s not a universal principle. it doesn’t mean she only hits on guys when she’s feeling self-destructive. it means what she expects mostly from flirting with a guy is pure physical sex, & the moment something more is asked of her she’s thrown off, which in morgan lingo most of the time means she turns mean & aggressive, like a rabid dog caught in a trap.

there’s exceptions obviously, & people who have managed to elude her rules or turn them around entirely. this is just a basic template for the way she relates to most partners, though, truth be told, most of the time she’s too high for her brain to really think these many thoughts before hitting on them.

at the end of the day, the problem remains. she has her parents’ darkest sides embedded into her being, two ghosts constantly haunting her. somewhere between the two poles, she is growing into her own human being. growing from her traumas & her insecurities, becoming a new person. a piano on one side, a guitar on the other, & her voice to reunite & summarize both of them. in the end, the better summary of maren andersen & soren christensen.

@nbdywns / meta !

#nbdywns #JAKE I AM FUCKED UP #thanks for sending this seriously THANK YOU #bc this has uncovered a SHITTON of stuff i never even realized #this was a wild ride from start to finish omfg i'm so #shook #also i wrote so much i'm sorry omg #death /#suicide /#long post /

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