#chapter 2 wicked liberty

[hyperfixatedimagines]

The Queen & her Lady: Ch. 6

Summary: Ageon has been crowned King, and Princess Rhaenys has escaped to inform Princess Rhaenyra. Queen Alicent works towards peace but with every passing moment it seems even more impossible. As dragons start to dance will the Dornish Princess learn to dance with them?

A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see. This is the final chapter…for now. As I follow the show’s timeline/canon with a few liberties here and there I will be putting the fic on hiatus until the second season drops. Also, you may have noticed I deleted the first part of the chapter that I uploaded sometime ago. I didn’t feel like it was as fleshed out as I would have liked so I deleted it and have reincorporated it into one long finale. I do have other projects in the works so I do hope you will look forward to other works from me. Please let me know what you think! It is not goodbye to the Queen and her Lady but a see you later.

A/N pt.2: @fuckinglittlekitten​ @swords-and-roses​ @watercolorskyy​ @chonisbestmistake​ @freshmoneyalmondathlete​ @bass6c​ @the-camilucha​ @nataliaromanovaswife​ @oh-thats-cute @lesbicentism

After the morning’s events the small council, that now included Aegon, gathered to discuss the crown’s next steps. 

They agreed to send terms of surrender to Rhaenyra. Alicent insisted the terms be generous enough for Rhaenyra to accept. After much back and forth the rest of the council agreed. Alicent excused herself to have a much needed moment alone while the rest of the council debated on what the terms would actually be.

When Alicent returned to her quarters she ordered a serving girl to bring her tea. She sank into her chair by the fire and closed her eyes.

She had almost died. 

Alicent had faced her demise bravely. While at the mercy of Rhaenys and her dragon,  Alicent did not flinch.

She was spared, for what reason she knew not. Nevertheless,  she and her family were spared.

Alicent sat upright when the serving girl brought her tea. She sipped on it while she contemplated all that she still had to do. The exhaustion started to set in, but she could not let it overtake her. There was simply far too much work still left to do.

There was the business of having the nobles at court swear obeisance to Aegon…which included Prince Qoren Martell.

Alicent let out a deep sigh. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the armchair.

All hope of rest went out the window the second Aemond stormed into the room.

Alicent turned at the sound of his entrance. She furrowed her brows when she saw fury written across Aemond’s face. 

“Aemond, what is the matter?”

“How long has your wicked companionship with (y/n) gone on for,” Aemond spat, his nostrils flaring.

Alicent swallowed hard. The moment she had most feared had arrived. She had long wondered how she would respond, if she would lie or say the truth.

“Answer me mother,” Aemond demanded, his voice raised and fists balled.

“Lower your voice,” Alicent commanded. She set her teacup and saucer down on the table in front of her. Then she stood. She smoothed her dress down as her mind scrambled for a response.

Not a moment later she decided on a response.

“I know not what you speak of Aemond,” she told him.

She decided she would lie.

Aemond shook his head then stepped closer. “I know, Mother. I know...(y/n) confirmed it. So do me the courtesy of being honest. For once speak plainly and honestly,” he replied through a clenched jaw.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Alicent had never seen her son so upset. She looked away from Aemond. 

“Whatever the Princess told you was a lie, Aemond.”

Aemond unballed his fists and ran a hand through his hair. He looked away from his mother. 

“What cause do you have for denying it any longer? (y/n) has told me all,” Aemond questioned.

Alicent did not respond. Instead she crossed the room and poured herself a cup of sweet wine from the flagon at her table.

“I do not wish to lie to you, Aemond,” Alicent said as she raised the goblet to her lips. 

The silver haired Prince softened. He let out an exasperated sigh. “All I seek is the truth.”

“What you ask of me I cannot give you.” Alicent kept her back towards Aemond. She took another drink of wine.

Aemond approached his mother. Alicent stiffened when she felt him near. 

“Please Mother…I need to know the truth,” Aemond pleaded, his voice becoming strained. 

Alicent emptied her goblet and poured herself another cup. She downed the second cup then turned to face her son. He was much closer than Alicent thought he would be.

“Whatever hurt you are feeling, I apologize. It was not my wish to hurt you, son,” Alicent professed, her voice low.

“You warned me of (y/n)’s true nature but now I need the entire truth.” Aemond said and looked away from Alicent when he realized tears had pooled in the corners of his eyes. He blinked away the tears that dared form. 

Alicent frowned. 

Her son would not meet her gaze. 

She did not speak. What could she say? The truth? It would ruin her if word got out.

Aemond sank into the chair from the table nearby. “It is just us. What cause have you to continue the lies,” he asked.

Alicent sighed. “All I can tell you is that the Princess has brought me great comfort in her time at the Keep,” she confessed.

Aemond looked up and met his mother’s gaze. She looked uncomfortable and tears welled in her eyes. Aemond felt his anger lull.

“Do you love her? Truly love her,” Aemond asked, his voice strained.

Alicent furrowed her brows. “Do I love her?”

Aemond nodded slowly. “Yes. This treachery is unbearable but...if you love her, as deeply as I do, then perhaps I can find a way to bear the immense pain in my chest,” he replied.

The now dowager Queen remained silent for a moment. Then she spoke softly.

“I love you, Helaena, and Aegon very much. I cared for your father...but I did not love him,” Alicent began.

“That much I know mother. I myself bore him little affection,” Aemond replied, slightly irritated. He stood from his seat. “Do you love (y/n), that is the question.”

Alicent held her son’s gaze. His eyes begged her for the truth. His anger had dissipated, now he only wanted the truth. He did not want to be lied to anymore. 

So Alicent took a deep breath and looked away from him. She cast her gaze to the stone floor.

“I do. I love her more than I thought myself capable of loving,” Alicent admitted.

Aemond’s heart ached even more. He finally had the truth. He sank back down into the seat. 

“You cannot imagine the pain I am in, mother,” Aemond breathed. “I love you, and I love (y/n). I wish for nothing but her happiness and yours but…I never imagined this.”

Alicent approached her son and knelt down in front of him.“It was not my intention to cause you such suffering, and I know it was not the Princess’ either. Whatever hurt you are feeling I apologize for. It was not our wish to hurt you, son.” She gripped Aemond’s hands. “She cares for you deeply, Aemond.”

Aemond tore his hands away from his mother’s. “But she does not love me,” Aemond cursed. Then he met his Mother’s gaze. A tear fell down his face. “She can never love me,” he whispered.

Silence descended upon them as Alicent could not think of any words she could utter that would ease Aemond’s pain. She stood and walked towards the hearth.

“How do you bear it,” Aemond asked, breaking the tense silence.

Alicent turned back to her son. She knitted her brows. “Bear what?”

Aemond wiped the tears from his eyes. “That she is my betrothed. That she will wed me and birth my sons. Does it not fill you with fury?” 

He knew the truth and it did not ignite him with fury any longer. Now, he only wished to understand. He wanted to know how his Mother could love (y/n) as he did and allow her to marry someone else.

Alicent shrugged. “It is her duty,” she professed. Then she sat down across from Aemond and continued. “As a Princess of Dorne she must wed and have children. I could not begrudge her for doing her duty just as she could not begrudge me for doing mine.”

Aemond quieted. He nodded and looked away, the look on his face a pensive one.

Alicent stared at her son. She was thankful he was no longer upset but worried he had still not forgiven her. In truth, her companionship with the Princess was a deep betrayal and Alicent knew that. She only hoped that her son could empathize with their situation and forgive them.

“(y/n) told me of her proclivities long ago, and I accepted it without judgment of her as I understood she had no more control over her feelings than I,” Aemond said then cleared his throat as he met his mother’s gaze. “Do you share her proclivities or is it a deep companionship borne from your loneliness?”

Alicent looked away from her son. She swallowed hard. “What if I did share her proclivities?”

Aemond stood. Alicent mirrored him and stood from her seat. Aemond reached out and held Alicent’s hands. 

 “Then how could I begrudge you? How can I begrudge that you found another who shared your feelings and fell in love with her?”

Finally, the tears in Alicent’s eyes fell. “You must believe that I never meant to hurt you, Aemond, neither of us did.”

Aemond placed a kiss on his Mother’s forehead. “I know mother, but it does not lessen the hurt.”

Alicent wiped the tears from her face. She took a deep breath. Aemond was truly her sweet boy, he had always been. And she would do anything for him. 

She cupped his face.

“Would you still suffer if my companionship ended?”

She did not wish to end things but if it was the only way to end Aemond’s agony she would do so. Before she was (y/n)’s love she was Aemond’s mother. Her loyalties had to lie with her family.

Aemond did not immediately reply. He furrowed his brow and looked down at the ground. Then he sighed. “That would not be my wish.”

Relief flooded Alicent.

Aemond met his mother’s gaze. “(y/n) would be inconsolable, and I know that would cause you a great deal of pain. I could never burden you both with such pain just to spare me of mine.”

A small smile spread across Alicent’s face. She gently ran her thumb across Aemond’s cheek. 

“You are too good, Aemond. You are my pride,” she whispered.

Aemond smiled sheepishly. Then he took his Mother’s hands in his own.

“I cannot say it will be easy for me to endure but I will try,” he promised.

Alicent gave his hands a gentle squeeze.“Thank you Aemond.”

Then Aemond let go of Alicent’s hands and crossed the room to pour himself a cup of wine.

“Would you like a cup?” He asked Alicent. 

“Yes please,” Alicent replied. 

Aemond poured wine into two cups then returned to his mother’s side. He handed one of the goblets to her. 

Alicent took it then took a sip. 

Aemond took a long drink. Then he stared down at the wine in his goblet as he swirled it around. 

“I suppose it would be difficult for anyone not to fall in love with (y/n). She is exceptional,” Aemond mused with a  fond smile on his face.

Alicent mirrored his smile. She nodded softly. “She is indeed.”

The two nursed their cups of wine as they continued to speak of the Princess’ attributes. 

-

The Princess made her way to her family’s quarters. Her eyes still stung from all the tears she had shed. She was tired and wished to sleep but she had to inform her father and sister of the morning’s events. She knew they would be more upset if they had to hear the news from anyone else.

When she arrived at their door the Hightower men at arms stepped aside and let her enter.

Prince Qoren and Princess Coryanne sat at their table eating their midday meal. They both looked towards the door as (y/n) entered.

“(y/n), have you returned with news,” Prince Qoren asked.

The Princess noted the look of distrust on her sister’s features. She nodded. 

“I do indeed father.”

So Prince Qoren waved her over. “Come sit and sup with us while you tell us.”

 (y/n) crossed the room to sit beside her father and opposite her sister.

The Dornish Prince ate a forkful of roasted lamb as he urged the Princess to speak.

(y/n) cleared her throat and began to tell them. “Aegon was crowned the King in front of all the smallfolk in King’s Landing,” she began.

Coryanne furrowed her brows. “Did you attend?”

“I did,” (y/n) replied, her gaze unwavering.

Prince Qoren frowned. “I believe I ordered you not to.” 

(y/n) turned to her father. “I could not turn down Prince Aemond’s personal invitation.”

Coryanne scoffed. “Of course, how could you turn down the very family that keeps us prisoner. It would be most impolite.” Coryanne rolled her eyes at (y/n).

“You are not prisoners,” (y/n) snapped. 

Prince Qoren held his hand up to silence his daughters. “Enough.” 

Both girls quieted. Then Prince Qoren asked (y/n) to continue.

(y/n) did so. 

“At the ceremony Princess Rhaenys broke through the floor of the dragon pit on her dragon,” the Princess recounted, a shudder going through her at the memory of the beast so close to Alicent.

Coryanne dropped her fork and met her sister’s gaze. Her face filled with worry.

“Were you harmed,” Coryanne asked, her voice full of alarm.

Prince Qoren stood and inspected his daughter where she sat. 

(y/n) put a hand on her father’s arm. “I am fine,” she told him.

Prince Qoren smiled at her then sat back down. 

(y/n) turned to Coryanne.

“Prince Aemond stepped in front of me and shielded me.”

Coryanne softened. She gave (y/n) a small nod then returned her attention to the plate of food in front of her. 

Prince Qoren raised his hand to his beard. He began stroking it.

“So what did Princess Rhaenys do? Did she kill Aegon?”

(y/n) shook her head. 

“No, she harmed no one but the smallfolk her dragon trampled as it made its escape.”

Coryanne took a drink from her goblet then turned to her sister. 

“Was the Princess confined to her rooms as we are?”

(y/n) nodded. 

Prince Qoren sighed. 

Coryanne turned to her father. “It is as I said father, the house of the dragon is divided. They are not as strong as you believed them to be.”

(y/n) frowned and reached out for her father’s hand.

“Father, that is not true. They are strong. With King Aegon on the throne Princess Rhaenyra will bend the knee and all will be well,” (y/n) argued. 

Coryanne rolled her eyes. She turned to her younger sister.  “Do not be so foolish (y/n). The Princess will never bend the knee. As well she should not as she is the rightful heir.” 

“The King informed the Queen of his desire for Aegon to succeed him. As the King’s first son that is his right,” (y/n) replied, knowing that in her heart she did not believe in Aegon’s right to rule.

Prince Qoren continued to stroke his beard. His face was lost in thought. 

Coryanne scoffed. “Father please tell me you do not believe (y/n)’s ramblings.”

Finally Prince Qoren spoke. He sat forward and let out a great sigh. 

“In light of this news you have brought us (y/n), I have made a decision.”

The Princesses leaned closer to their father, both with baited breath. 

“We shall return to Sunspear. Your betrothal to Prince Aemond is no more. War is coming and I will not leave you here to become a pawn to be used to demand Dornish support,” Qoren proclaimed.

The younger Princess’ heart sank. She reached out for her father’s hand. She took it and gave his hand a pleading squeeze. 

“Father, that is not what I wish. I want to wed Prince Aemond. Please do not force me to part with my beloved,” (y/n) begged. 

Coryanne looked at her sister and sneered. “You do not wish to be parted from the Queen.  Speak the truth now sister, as father will not be swayed.” 

Qoren turned to his youngest daughter with furrowed brows. “(y/n), tell me your sister is lying as I know your mother and I did not raise you to be so foolish.”

(y/n) let go of her father’s hand and lowered her gaze to her lap. She did not reply.

The Prince shook his head softly. “My darling, stupid, girl…I will alert the Hightower men that I wish to speak to the new King. If all goes well we will leave for Sunspear on the morrow.” 

(y/n)’s gaze shot up. “Will you state your support?”

“I will state that if he wishes for the possibility of Dornish might at his side he will allow us to leave and return to Dorne safely,” Qoren said before he took a long sip of wine from his goblet.

Coryanne also drank from her cup but it did not hide the pleased smile that spread across her face. 

(y/n) could take it no longer. She stood and bowed her head. “If that is your wish father.”

Prince Qoren lowered his goblet. “It is (y/n).” 

“I will begin packing my things,” (y/n) replied. She swallowed hard and turned away from her family.

As she made her way to the door her father called out to her.

“(y/n),” the Prince said, his voice slightly raised.

(y/n) turned back to face the Prince. “Yes father?”

“Do not share the news of our departure with anyone outside our house,” Qoren ordered.

The Princess nodded silently. Then she turned back towards the door and walked out. She clenched her fists as she made her way back to her chambers. She would not let any tears fall where spies might see them. 

Her vision started to blur as she neared her rooms. The second the door closed behind her (y/n) let all the tears fall. 

-

After tea with his mother Aemond went out for a ride on vhagar to settle his nerves and think about how he would apologize to (y/n).

He could not lie and tell the Princess he forgave her, as he had not. While Aemond empathized with the Princess’ situation he could not bring himself to forgive her for the offense. 

Out of all the women in the Keep it had been his mother…Aemond tried to forgive but it did not come to him easily.

When the Prince finally had an apology formed he made his way to the Princess’ chambers.

He knocked on the door and no one answered. So Aemond knocked once more. Still no answer. 

Was the Princess not in her chambers?

Aemond decided to see for himself. So he let himself in. 

The Princess sat at the foot of her bed, her eyes red and cheeks stained. 

“(y/n),” he softly called out. 

(y/n) looked up. “Aemond.”

Aemond clasped his hands behind his back. “Have I caught you at a bad moment? I can come back.”

(y/n) wiped the tears from her face and stood from her bed. “Nonsense. What can I do for you?”

“I uhm- I came to apologize,” Aemond confessed. 

The Princess’ brows raised. “Oh.”

Aemond stepped closer to the Princess. “I was rash, and thoughtless. All I could think of was the pain in my chest and the blood in my ears. I’m sorry (y/n) for losing my temper with you.”

“It’s alright Aemond. I should not have kept something of such importance from you but you must understand I could not divulge such a companionship to just anyone.”

Aemond nodded. “I understand…but I will admit (y/n) I am still very hurt.”

(y/n) closed the gap between them. She placed her hands on Aemond’s arms. “I wish I could take that hurt away Aemond. I never wanted to hurt you. You are so good and truly the only man I have ever come close to truly loving.”

“But you can never love me as a wife should. I know (y/n),” Aemond said, his breath but a whisper.

(y/n)’s chest ached. Nothing she could say could mend Aemond’s broken heart. So she wrapped her arms around Aemond’s neck and buried her face in Aemond’s shoulder. 

Aemond returned the embrace and wrapped his arms around (y/n)’s waist. He breathed in the Princess’ scent. What once brought him such pleasure now smelled bittersweet. 

“I know that you love me as much as you can (y/n). I promised to be content with such affection and I am a man of my word,” he spoke as he pressed his cheek to the side of the Princess’ head. “It will take time for me to forgive you fully but I am thankful that someone has brought much needed happiness and comfort to my mother.”

(y/n) hugged the Prince tighter. “Thank you Aemond. Thank you.” Then she pulled away from the Prince to meet his gaze. “I could not ask for a better betrothed.”

The words burned (y/n)’s throat as she spoke them. She knew he was no longer her betrothed…but until her father announced their departure she would allow herself the comfort the farcical engagement brought her.

Aemond placed a gentle kiss to (y/n)’s forehead. Then he held her tight once more. 

-

After much deliberation the council finally decided on the terms of surrender. Otto Hightower stood and read the finalized terms of surrender meant for Princess Rhaenyra.

Alicent had managed to secure generous terms for the Princess thanks to her tenacious nature…and Aegon’s desire to end the small council session quickly.

King Aegon had grown bored very quickly and wished for it all to end. So he looked to his mother for guidance in hopes to end such duties rapidly.

Otto finished reading the terms. He looked towards the King for final approval. 

Aegon gave it then stood from his chair at the head of the table. “Now that our business has concluded I must take my leave.”

Otto raised a hand to stop Aegon. “Not so fast, your grace. We must decide who will deliver the terms to the Princess.”

“I think it’s best if one of the members of the small council go,” Maester Orwyle suggested. 

Aegon nodded. “Yes very well let us get on with it then.”

“I volunteer myself,” Alicent said.

Tyland nodded. “I think that is wise.”

Otto shook his head. “It is dangerous. I would not see the Queen mother harmed.”

Aegon slumped in his seat. “So then you may go, grand sire.”

All eyes turned to Otto. He gave Aegon a strained smile. 

“If you wish it, your grace.”

“Good, then all is well. Now I will take my leave,” Aegon proclaimed.

“There is the business with the Dornish prince, my King,” Tyland said then looked towards the Queen mother. 

Alicent swallowed then turned to Tyland. “Thank you my lord. That is pressing business indeed.”

Aegon nodded. “Yes indeed.” Then he turned to his mother. He cleared his throat and Alicent met his gaze. Aegon raised a brow. 

The Queen mother let out a breath then turned to the rest of the small council. “Their men at arms must be released from our cells and our men removed from their chambers.”

“They have not yet stated their support for the new King,” Otto chimed in.

Alicent turned to her father. “They have not declared their support for Rhaenyra either.”

Otto opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the small council doors opening. A Hightower man at arms walked inside and informed them of the Dornish Prince’s wish to speak with King Aegon. 

Aegon sat up in his seat and leaned over towards his mother. Alicent placed a hand on his shoulder.

Otto informed the Hightower man that King Aegon would speak to the Prince at once. 

The Hightower guard left the room. 

Otto dismissed the small council and asked Aegon if he would like him to stay. Aegon looked to Alicent. 

Alicent nodded. So Aegon told Otto to stay with him and his mother to speak with the Prince.

The Queen mother excused herself as she had business to attend to. Then, upon seeing the panicked look on Aegon’s face, she reassured him that his grandsire would aid him should he need it. 

Then she took her leave.

-

Alicent entered the Keep’s library. She was glad to see (y/n) reading underneath the window.

“Don’t you look beautiful,” the Queen mother said reverently, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled.

(y/n) turned towards the door and, upon seeing it was her love who had entered, leapt to her feet and went to Alicent’s side.

Alicent wrapped her arms around (y/n). (y/n) returned the embrace. 

The Princess pressed a quick kiss to Alicent’s neck. “Ali, I am so glad to see you.” 

Alicent let out a content sigh. She ran a hand through the Princess’ hair.

“As am I, my sweet girl.”

The lovers parted and Alicent guided (y/n) over to the settee. Alicent took (y/n)’s hand in hers. “I have much to speak with you about.”

(y/n) nodded. “As do I.”

Alicent met the Princess’ gaze. “Allow me to go first, my sun.”

“Of course,” (y/n) replied.

Alicent took in a deep breath. “Aemond came to my chambers shortly after we all returned from the coronation.”

(y/n) looked down at their clasped hands. She knew what the Queen mother was going to say. 

“He asked about our…companionship,” Alicent continued.

“You have me to blame for that.” 

(y/n) looked up and met Alicent’s gaze. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“You?”

(y/n) nodded.  “He walked me to my chambers,as you know, but once inside he crudely asked if I had bedded you…obviously I denied it but he knew Ali. He knew that I loved you, in a way I would never be able to love him. I couldn’t deny it.” (y/n) buried her face in Alicent’s shoulder. “I hated lying to Aemond. He’s my dearest friend.”

Alicent placed a gentle kiss to the top of (y/n)’s head. “I know (y/n). I did too.”

“What are we to do now?” (y/n) mumbled. 

“Aemond swore to me he would keep our secret. So I see no reason we cannot continue on as we have done.”

The Princess lifted her head. “Really? I was sure you would panic,” she confessed. 

Alicent smiled shyly. “I understand why you would think that. I know I’ve been cowardly when it comes to our love, but I won’t be any longer.”

Alicent brought (y/n)’s hand to her lips and kissed the Princess’ knuckles. “I promise you.”

Blush spread across (y/n)’s cheeks. “I love you Ali.”

Alicent squeezed the Princess’ hand. “I love you too (y/n).”

Then they moved onto different, more pressing, topics of conversation. Alicent explained the terms of surrender the small council had agreed on to the Princess. The Princess listened, though she was not confident Rhaenyra would accept them. 

“And who will deliver them?” (y/n) asked. 

Alicent sighed. “Aegon decided my father should take them.”

The Princess frowned. “Your father?”

“Yes, though I must confess that I do not trust my father will try hard to convince Rhaenyra to accept the terms.” Alicent said as she anxiously rubbed at one of the rings on her fingers.

(y/n) quieted. She tried to think of a way to help. Then she perked up and turned back to Alicent.

“Why don’t you try to send Rhaenyra a message?”

Alicent shook her head. “No ravens are allowed to enter or leave the Keep at the moment.”

“I mean why don’t you send a message with your father,” (y/n) explained.

Alicent furrowed her brows. “He would surely read it and pervert its message. He seeks Rhaenyra’s death.”

“Yes but if the message was hidden and only something the Princess would understand. That way even if your father read it he would not understand its true meaning,” (y/n) added. 

Alicent paused and considered (y/n)’s idea. Then she stood up and turned to (y/n).

“I believe I have just the thing. Come with me,” Alicent declared before walking towards the doors. 

The Princess followed after the Queen mother all the way to the Queen mother’s bedchambers. 

Alicent knelt down and reached for something underneath her bedside. When she stood back up she had a piece of paper in her hands. 

(y/n) furrowed her brows.

Alicent walked over to where (y/n) stood and unfolded the piece of paper.

“Do you remember that book about your ancestor you were reading in the Godswood all those moons ago?”

(y/n)  nodded.

Alicent showed the Princess the torn book page in her hands.

“Well this is the torn page. Rhaenyra tore it out when we were girls. She always teased me for being studious and tore it out so that I would never forget about it.”

(y/n) took the torn page. She turned it over in her hand.

“If you send it with your father, what exactly will the page tell her?”

“That I have not forgotten the friendship we once shared, and the love we once bore one another,” Alicent replied, a forlorn and far away gaze in her eyes.

(y/n) looked up from the page and at her lover. She handed the page back to Alicent.

“I see...”

Alicent took the page, and she let her hand linger against (y/n)’s. Their gazes met.

“Does that bother you?”

(y/n) considered the question for a brief moment before replying. 

“It does not. I am glad you have a way to communicate your true desire for peace,” (y/n) said with a small smile. 

Alicent returned the smile. She reached up and cupped (y/n)’s cheek. 

“My sweet girl.”

Then Alicent’s hand dropped, and the smile soon followed. Alicent looked away from (y/n).

“I trust you are speaking the truth, but I will admit that I can tell something is bothering you. I won’t pry…I trust you will tell me when it is time for me to know,” Alicent confessed.

(y/n) swallowed hard and did her best to keep the smile on her face. “I assure you I am not bothered.”

Alicent didn’t reply. She merely gave (y/n) a slight nod before returning her attention to the torn page in her hands.

The Princess felt her guilt build inside her.

The more Alicent went on about her plans to communicate peace the more the guilt built inside (y/n). 

Until finally she could take it no more. 

She cleared her throat. 

Alicent looked over at her, brows raised.

“I must go…my sister requested I speak to her after my time in the library,” (y/n) lied, each word harder and harder to say as she felt her throat close up from guilt.

Alicent nodded slowly. “Of course (y/n). You may go.”

(y/n) placed a quick kiss to Alicent’s cheek before saying goodbye. 

Alicent watched (y/n) leave. In the pit of her stomach she knew there was something the Princess was keeping from her, but she would have to trust (y/n). It would be no small task for the Queen mother to do but her love for (y/n) was greater than her paranoia. 

-

It became harder and harder for (y/n) to hold back the deluge of tears that welled in her eyes. 

She hated lying to Alicent. She hated lying to Aemond. 

But she was a Martell. 

She had to do as she was told.

So distracted in her thoughts (y/n) did not even notice Aemond calling out her name then hurrying to catch up with her in the halls.

Aemond caught up to the Princess. He put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Princess, what is the matter? You are crying,” Aemond asked once (y/n) turned to face him. 

(y/n) wiped her tears with the edge of her sleeve. “It is nothing. I must go”

The Princess turned to leave but Aemond slid his hand in hers and pulled (y/n) towards a nearby room. Thankfully candles were already lit.

Aemond stood in front of the Princess. “I do not believe you (y/n). We have lied to each other enough, please tell me the truth.”

“I cannot. My father forbade it,” the Princess revealed, her eyes red from crying and cheeks tear stained. 

Aemond furrowed his brow. “I am your betrothed. You can tell me anything.”

(y/n) pulled away from Aemond. She crossed to the other side of the room, near the window. She turned her back to the Prince. “That is the very cause of my strife. You are no longer my betrothed.”

“I don’t understand,” Aemond replied hesitantly. He stepped closer to the Princess.

The Princess whipped around to face the Prince.Her gaze met his. Aemond’s eyes were filled with worry, his lips slightly pursed. She sighed.

 “My father has gone to speak with your brother, the King. He wishes for all three of us to return to Sunspear. He doesn’t think it’s safe for me here. He said you were no longer my betrothed,” (y/n) confessed.

Aemond shook his head. “That cannot be.” He huffed. “That is madness. Of course it is safe for you here.”

The Princess closed the gap between them.

“I told him of Princess Rhaenys’ dragon escaping during the coronation. He believes war is coming and does not wish me to remain far from home,” she explained.

Aemond reached out and held (y/n)’s hands in his. He gave her hands a squeeze.

“My mother is doing all she can to avoid war, and for once my brother is heeding her advice. We shall not go to war.”

(y/n) frowned. “My father does not believe so. He seeks to leave on the morrow.”

Aemond sighed. 

He looked out the window, his brow furrowed, before he returned his gaze to (y/n). 

“Then I will have to find a way to convince him otherwise. I must depart for Storm’s End to secure House Baratheon’s support but if you can delay your departure then I promise I will have a way to fix things when I return.”

“Do you truly believe you will find a way?” (y/n) did not want to fill herself with false hope.

Aemond brought their joined hands up to his lips.“Do you trust me?”

“I do,” (y/n) said with a small smile. 

Aemond placed a kiss on the top of (y/n)’s hands.

“Then I will,” he promised.

(y/n) smiled wider. She nodded slowly. “Okay…I will see how I can delay my father’s plans.”

“Wonderful.” Aemond let go of (y/n)’s hands. He turned to leave. “I will go at once.”

(y/n) reached out and stopped him. Aemond turned back to (y/n).

The Princess spoke in a hushed voice. “But you must keep this news between us. No one else can know until my father announces it.”

Aemond nodded. “Of course. I shall see you when I return.”

The Princess let go of Aemond. Aemond left the room and went directly to his mother’s chambers. 

He did not want to deceive the Princess, but now that he knew the truth of the Princess’ companionship with his mother, he knew he had to inform her.

Ser Criston let Aemond enter the dowager Queen’s chambers.

Alicent looked up from the correspondence in front of her. She frowned. 

“Aemond, I thought you were on your way to Storm’s End?”

Aemond cleared his throat. “I was..I still am. But I have some information you are going to want to know.”

Alicent raised her brows. “Oh?”

“It’s about (y/n).” Aemond added. 

Alicent stood from her seat and ushered Aemond towards the settee.

-

The Princess returned to her father’s chambers, hoping to stall their inevitable leave. She had to trust that Aemond would find a way.

She arrived outside her father’s quarters. Outside the door stood two Martell men at arms. They smiled and bowed as she walked past them and into the room. 

Prince Qoren sat in an armchair that faced the roaring hearth. He looked up when the Princess entered. 

“(y/n), there you are,” he said and stood from his seat. 

He rushed to his daughter’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“You must pack at once. We are to leave on the morrow, at the first light of day. I do not wish for us to linger here any longer than necessary.”

(y/n)’s heart sank but she did her best to mask her dismay. 

“So the King has granted us leave?”

Qoren nodded as he ushered his daughter to a seat. He sat down next to her on the settee. 

“I have acknowledged King Aegon as the true king,” Prince Qoren said and bowed his head. 

“You do not believe he is fit to rule,” the Princess replied. 

“Whether he is fit to rule matters not baby sister,” came a voice from the balcony. 

Princess Coryanne entered the room and sat down across from her father and sister. 

“Princess Rhaenyra is the late King’s chosen heir,” Coryanne added. 

“What matters is I have been able to get us home safely,” Prince Qoren said and gave his elder daughter a sharp look. 

Coryanne shrugged and sat back in her seat. 

(y/n) furrowed her brows. “So you have thrown your support behind King Aegon?”

“I have acknowledged him as King. If he would like Dornish support should this all lead to war, he will have to allow us to decide once we are back in Sunspear,” Prince Qoren explained. 

The youngest Princess nodded. She thought back to Aemond’s promise to fix things. She needed to buy him time. 

(y/n) bit her lip as she thought. 

Her sister eyed her suspiciously. 

“I know that look,” Coryanne sniped.

Prince Qoren turned to (y/n). “Is something on your mind?”

“Yes I….,” (y/n) racked her mind for a way to stall their departure. “I wish to break fast with the Queen tomorrow. One final goodbye. Will you please delay our leave for just a few hours so that I may properly say goodbye to her?”

(y/n) gave her father a pleading look, and reached out to hold his hands. 

“Please father,” (y/n) asked once more. 

Prince Qoren frowned. “(y/n) I don’t think -”

“Father, I think you should allow her one last goodbye in the privacy of her chambers. After all, gods know if she’s bedded her paramour yet,” Coryanne sniped with a laugh. 

Qoren turned to Coryanne. 

“Enough of that type of talk. We are not in the comforts and safety of our home,” the Prince chided. 

Coryanne lowered her gaze. “My apologies father.”

Qoren sighed then turned back to (y/n).

“I will allow you to break fast with the Queen one last time, but we will leave as soon as you have finished. I do not want to dally about for too long tomorrow.”

(y/n) smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around her father. She buried her face in his shoulder. “Thank you father! Thank you.”

Qoren smiled as he returned his daughter’s embrace. Then he pulled her away from him and looked her in the eye. 

“But be careful (y//n). I know that you love with all your heart but you must not lose your head. Do you understand?”

(y/n) nodded. “I understand father.”

Qoren nodded. “Good. Now that all business is settled let us all prepare for our departure.”

The Prince sent both his daughters to pack their things and instruct the servant girls on how to pack the rest. 

The Princess made quick work of her duties as she received an invitation to dine that night with the dowager Queen. 

-

The meal was quiet. Too quiet. 

(y/n) knew she had to tell Alicent the truth. A part of (y/n) was sure Alicent already knew as Alicent was also uncharacteristically silent.

Alicent could not look her lover in the eyes. 

It cut her deeply that (y/n) did not tell her that the Prince planned to leave and take (y/n) with him. She had to hear about it from Aemond and then from Aegon.

Her dearest sun was leaving the Red Keep, and Alicent knew that with (y/n)  would go all warmth and life within the castle walls. 

The tension in the air remained until the serving boys brought out the honey cakes and lemon biscuits for dessert.

(y/n) picked at the slice of honey cake on her plate. 

“Is it not to your liking,” Alicent asked, a flash of worry spread across her. She did not wish for (y/n)’s last meal in the Keep to be unpleasant.

The Princess shook her head. “No, no it’s not that. The cake is lovely. The whole meal was lovely, really.”

(y/n) met Alicent’s gaze for the first time that night. 

Alicent nodded slowly. “It was, wasn't it…”

Silence descended upon the pair once more. 

Alicent’s eyes pleaded for (y/n) to speak the truth. To say it once and for all. Her nerves had frayed to their very tips.

(y/n) looked away. She continued to pick at her plate. 

“I’m sorry I -,” Alicent said with a loud sigh. She threw her napkin down on the table and stood. “I cannot go a moment longer without talking about it,” she added as she walked towards the Princess.

The Princess stood from her seat.  “Wha- What is it Ali,” (y/n) stuttered.

Knots twisted over bigger knots in (y/n)’s stomach. 

Alicent frowned, the worry lines on her forehead becoming apparent. “So you insist on keeping it from me?”

(y/n) closed the gap between herself and the dowager Queen.  “I did not know how to tell you.”

Alicent closed her eyes and shook her head softly. “You cannot imagine the tears I shed when Aemond told me.”

“I’m so sorry Ali,” (y/n) said and reached out to hold Alicent’s hands, tears pooling in the young woman’s eyes.

“I do not wish for an apology,” Alicent replied. She brought (y/n)’s hands up to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss between the Princess’ knuckles. “(y/n) I wish for you to stay with me.”

(y/n) frowned. “I cannot…My father has decided I must return to Sunspear.”

Alicent dropped their intertwined hands. She turned towards the dining table where a flagon of wine sat in between the many sweet treats. She poured herself a goblet full of wine and took a long drink.

“Then I will have Aegon deny his leave. I will-,” Alicent began but was cut off by the Princess. 

“You will do no such thing.” (y/n) said and reached out for the Queen’s hand once more. “Hard days are coming, Ali. Please do not make them harder by challenging my father.”

Alicent turned to face the Princess. She looked down at their hands, fingers laced together. A tear ran down the Queen’s cheek. “…I cannot lose you,” she whispered.

(y/n) shed a few tears of her own. She wrapped her arms around the Queen and buried her face in the Queen’s shoulder. “I was a coward Ali. I should have told you as soon as I knew.”

“You cannot leave me,” Alicent murmured as she placed a kiss to the side of (y/n)’s head. “I do not think I can survive without you.”

Then Alicent pulled away from the Princess. The dowager Queen cupped the young woman’s face with both hands. She ran her thumb across (y/n)’s cheek.

“Now that I have been bathed in your rays of light and love…,” Alicent stopped and looked down at (y/n)’s lips. She swallowed hard before continuing. “I cannot go back to the cold and dark,” she said with a quiver in her voice.

Alicent’s gaze flicked up to meet (y/n)’s. 

(y/n) leaned into Alicent’s touch. 

“You won’t have to. I promise I will find a way back to you,” (y/n) whispered.

Alicent’s hands fell back to her sides. “How? We will be leagues apart with a bloody war looming.” Alicent sighed aloud and turned away from the Princess.

(y/n) stepped closer, her chest pressed against Alicent’s back.

“You must believe that I will return home to you,” (y/n) pleaded. 

Alicent felt the heat of (y/n)’s breath on the back of her neck. She shut her eyes and tried to quell the familiar thrum of excitement in her chest that happened whenever the Princess was that close.

“Your father will never allow you to return,” Alicent protested.

(y/n) placed her hands on Alicent’s hips. She pressed a gentle kiss to Alicent’s neck. Then she neared Alicent’s ear.

“I love you, and I will do whatever is necessary to be by your side….,” she whispered. 

Alicent swallowed hard then turned around in (y/n)’s grasp. 

The Princess continued. 

“I will return even if I must return to you bloody and barefoot, without a family or a title,” (y/n) proclaimed.

Fresh tears pooled in Alicent’s eyes. Her whole being felt warm, warm and bright. She felt loved, truly loved, and it was all thanks to (y/n). 

Alicent pressed her forehead against the Princess’.

“Then I will be sure to welcome you home with a warm bath and give you my family name.”

The Princess smiled a shy smile.

Alicent’s smile mirrored the Princess’. “You have me, always,” she confessed.

(y/n) closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against the Queen’s. 

Alicent returned the kiss and opened her lips to let the Princess deepen the kiss. 

(y/n) pulled Alicent’s hips closer to her. Alicent wrapped her arms around (y/n)’s neck.

She deserved this, Alicent thought to herself. She deserved to show her sun the whole of her love for her.

So Alicent guided the pair towards the table. She backed the Princess up against the edge. 

(y/n)’s hands dropped from the Queen’s hips and she broke their kiss. “Ali we should stop you-.”

Her words were cut off by Alicent’s lips. Alicent kissed the Princess and this time it was she who pulled the Princess’ hips towards her own. 

If the Princess was to leave her, then Alicent would give all of herself to (y/n). She would not let (y/n) leave without consummating their true love. After all, there was no assurance Alicent would ever see her sun again.

(y/n) broke their kiss once more. She looked into Alicent’s eyes for some type of answer. She had never seen Alicent so forthright.

“My husband is dead,” Alicent whispered. “I am free and I wish to give you all of myself before we are forced to part ways.”

(y/n) cupped Alicent’s cheek. “Are you sure?”

The dowager Queen leaned into the Princess’ touch. “Take me,” she whispered into the Princess’ palm then placed a hungry kiss to her palm.

Desire flared inside the Dornish Princess. She swallowed hard then nodded. 

 The Queen was led to her bed by the younger woman. (y/n) undressed Alicent slowly, giving the Queen ample time if she should change her mind.

But Alicent’s mind was singular in thought. Her body, for the first time, was lit aflame with desire for the Princess. 

With every touch that ghosted Alicent’s skin as (y/n) undressed her grew the thrumming in Alicent’s chest, and the pulsing in between her legs. 

Soon the Queen’s skin was bare. She met (y/n)’s gaze and felt a sense of pride as the Princess’ eyes gazed upon her naked body.

“Your grace…,” (y/n) said with a shaky breath.

Alicent hooked a finger under the Princess’ chin and brought the Princess’ gaze up to meet her own. 

“Ali….only Ali.”

The Princess nodded. “Ali,” she repeated, her voice thick with desire.

Alicent stepped closer. “Your turn.”

The Princess turned her back to Alicent and swallowed hard as she heard the strings of her dress start to come undone.

(y/n) closed her eyes and took deep breaths, each layer Alicent removed created a louder ringing in her ears. 

It was not until Alicent placed a kiss upon her naked shoulder that (y/n)’s eyes flickered open. 

The Princess turned around, and swallowed hard. It was up to her to teach the Queen in the art of loving another woman.

So she reached out and guided Alicent to lay on the bed. 

Alicent stared up at (y/n) with such openness that (y/n) had only dreamt of. 

Alicent caressed (y/n)’s cheek. “I am ready (y/n).”

(y/n) smiled and gently lowered her lips to Alicent’s chest, placing a gentle kiss between her breasts. 

-

The hour of the wolf neared and the lovers reached new heights of pleasure as hands touched, teeth nipped, hips bucked, and lips left swollen with each endless kiss.

“(y/n),” Alicent moaned through heavy pants as her body recovered from her latest climax.

The two were a mess of limbs as they ravaged one another. Neither wanted it to end.

But (y/n) had another engagement she could not miss. 

So she climbed up to meet Alicent’s lips and gave her a gentle peck. “Thank you, my Ali,” (y/n) whispered as she fixed an auburn curl behind Alicent’s ear.

Alicent smiled up at (y/n). “Whatever for, my sun?”

(y/n) gazed into Alicent’s eyes and said, “I have never felt so sure about anything as I do about my love for you.”

The Queen smiled lazily and cupped the Princess’ cheek. “I feel the same about you.”

(y/n) brought her lips against Alicent’s for one last, long, languid, kiss.

Then the Princess let out a long sigh and pressed her forehead against Alicent’s.

“I wish I could spend the whole night in your arms Ali, but I must pack certain belongings that I do not entrust to the servants.”

Alicent matched the Princess’ sigh. “I understand (y/n).”

The Princess pulled away and instantly Alicent felt the magic of their union dissipate.

Alicent watched as (y/n) dressed herself. Then stood to help the Princess with the strings of her dress.

“You will break fast with me on the morrow, won’t you?” (y/n) asked as Alicent tightened the strings of her dress.

Alicent finished and wrapped her arms around (y/n)’s waist. “Of course I will, my sun.”

(y/n) leaned backwards into the Queen’s touch and smiled. “Then I shall pray day comes quick so that I may see you again.”

The lovers pulled apart  and with one final kiss (y/n) left the Queen’s chambers.

-

Ser Criston waited for the Princess just down the hall from the dowager Queen’s chambers, just as she had asked of him. 

When the Princess rounded the corner and made contact the knight of the Kingsguard immediately noticed the Princess’ disheveled appearance.

“Ser Criston, I am glad to see you are indeed a man of your word,” the Princess said as she neared him.

The knight nodded. “Of course Princess, in all matters that concern the dowager Queen I am your ally.” 

“I am glad to hear so,” (y/n) replied, still trying to fix her appearance.

Together, they walked down the halls of the Keep until they reached Lord Strong’s chambers.

As they stood in front of the Lord’s door (y/n) hesitated. 

Cole watched as the Princess lifted her hand to the door then stopped. 

(y/n) thought back to what Alicent had confessed to her. What Alicent said Larys had made her do all those years. She thought of the humiliation and shame Alicent had dealt with all those years, and how much Larys had reveled in it.

That was enough to have the fire return to her. 

(y/n) burst through the door, with Ser Criston in tow. 

Larys startled awake. “Who goes there,” he called out.

The Princess lit a few candles while Ser Criston grabbed Larys and gagged him with a rag.

Once gagged, Ser Criston forced Larys to kneel in front of the Princess.

(y/n) stared down at the man. 

“You are the most pathetic man in all of Westeros.”

Larys cried out but it was muffled by the rag in his mouth. Ser Criston jostled him into silence. 

The Princess grabbed Larys by the chin and forced him to look at her. 

“You will never again approach the dowager Queen with any of your grotesque demands in exchange for information. Your taking advantage of her is done.”

Larys once again tried to speak. 

“Cole,” (y/n) said.

Ser Criston placed his foot on Larys’ good leg then put pressure on it. Larys groaned and tried to escape the Princess’ grasp.

But the Princess’ grasp was firm. She dug the nail of her thumb into his chin. Larys yelped in pain.

“You will not speak.”

Larys quieted down but stared up at the Princess with pure hate in his eyes. 

“While I take my leave to Sunspear Ser Criston will remain. He will be my eyes and ears. If he is to tell me that you have lingered in the Queen’s chambers or in her mere presence for longer than necessary I will gladly engage the services of any one of Dorne’s sellswords that are also known to work with poisons.”

Larys furrowed his brow. He looked away from the Princess.

The Princess dug her nail into his chin until his gaze returned to her. “Do you understand, Lord Strong.”

Tears now pooled in Larys’ eyes. He nodded slowly.

“Wonderful,” she said, then turned to Ser Criston. “Remove the rag.”

Ser Criston did as told and removed the rag from Larys’ mouth. 

Larys coughed and took several deep breaths to steady himself. 

Then he looked up at the Princess and smirked. “You may threaten me all you wish Princess but I know your secret. I know the truth about you and the Queen.”

In one fluid movement Ser Criston unsheathed a dagger and held it against Larys’ throat. 

Larys dared not swallow or speak as he felt the cool blade against him.

“I urge you to not make threats against her grace, my Lord,” Cole whispered. 

The Princess lowered herself to meet Larys’ gaze. “And before you make any more threats I want to inform you that I know what your little busy bees look like. Should they come anywhere near me or my family I will be sure to show you the true might of Dornish anger.”

Larys looked away. “I will- I will comply,” the Lord confessor uttered.

Ser Criston pressed the dagger ever closer, striking the skin just enough for a drop of blood to spill through. “And you will apologize to her grace. You will tell her all information will be given to her freely.”

Larys cried out, “Alright, alright! I will apologize to the Queen.”

“Very well,” Ser Criston replied. He started to help Lord Larys stand but the Princess put a hand up to stop him.

“Wait,” she said.

Ser Criston shoved Larys back down.

The Princess stared at Larys, her expression blank but her eyes filled with fury.

Larys stared at her, and swallowed hard. “What is it? What more do you want fr-.”

The Lord confessor’s words were cut short as the Princess’ fist collided with his face.

Ser Criston’s eyes widened as he saw the Princess punch Larys.

The Princess then gripped Lord Strong’s face once again.

“You are scum. If it were up to me I would order you flayed alive and have your flesh strung up on the walls of sunspear for all to see…but the Queen does not wish for such violence upon anyone. It is by her grace that you live…do not forget that.”

Larys nodded in reply.

(y/n) looked up to meet Ser Criston’s gaze. She nodded and he started to help Larys to his feet.

Ser Criston threw Larys onto his cot then followed the Princess out into the hall.

The knight slammed the door closed behind him and trailed after the Princess.

Once they reached a sizable distance from Larys Strong’s quarters the knight approached the Princess.

“Princess, were your threats of flaying the Lord confessor true?”

The Princess stopped and turned to face the knight.

“Of course they were. I won’t allow any more harm to come to the dowager Queen. I expect you to feel the same, Ser Criston.”

Ser Criston nodded. “I do, Princess. I will be sure to keep the Lord confessor true to his word.”

“Wonderful. Now I must return to my quarters,” she declared.

Ser Criston bowed his head. “Good night Princess.”

“Good night, Ser Criston,” (y/n) replied before she made her way to her own quarters.

-

The next morning the dowager Queen and the Princess of Dorne sat down and broke fast together. Just as the Queen had promised. 

Both were in good spirits even though that morning would be their last together. 

(y/n) picked at her food. “I don’t want the meal to end,” she confessed. 

Alicent smiled at (y/n). “One way or another your father will see to it that you all depart King’s Landing this very day.”

(y/n) met Alicent’s gaze. “I do not wish to part from you Ali.”

Alicent reached across the table and held (y/n)’s hand. “I do not wish to part either but some things are beyond our power.”

(y/n) ran her thumb across the top of Alicent’s hand. “I know…but I will return, somehow.”

Alicent gave (y/n)’s hand a squeeze. “You will.”

The two enjoyed the rest of their meal together. Just as they had finished the Princess’ sister, Princess Coryanne, rushed into the room. 

She stopped when she saw the dowager Queen and (y/n) in a warm embrace. 

“Pardon me your grace, I did not mean to intrude.”

Alicent and (y/n) pulled apart at the sound of Coryanne’s entry. 

“Oh dear sister I do not believe that,” (y/n) replied.

Alicent smiled at Coryanne. “There was nothing to intrude on Princess.”

Coryanne’s lips pursed. “Indeed,” she said with a scowl. Then she turned to her sister. “Father has asked me to escort you down to the carriage. Everyone is ready to depart.”

(y/n)’s smiled faded. “Aye,” she replied, looking away from both Alicent and her sister.

Coryanne smiled viciously. “Wonderful. Let us all go down together.”

(y/n) nodded. “Of course.”

So the three royals made their way down to the entrance of the Keep. 

Already there was Queen Helaena and her children. As well as Prince Qoren Martell.

Formal goodbyes were had between the various royals. 

Coryanne approached the dowager Queen to say goodbye but Alicent reached out and embraced the Princess.

Surprised, Coryanne attempted to speak but the Queen beat her to it.

“Under no circumstance should (y/n) leave Sunspear. She will try to escape to return to the Keep. You must not allow this,” Alicent whispered as she embraced Coryanne.

Coryanne furrowed her brow then quickly schooled her features. “I- I will your grace,” she whispered back. 

Alicent pulled away and loudly said, “Safe travels Princess Coryanne.”

Coryanne smiled, “Thank you, your grace.”

Confused, Coryanne made her way to her father’s side. She looked back at Alicent, who was now in a warm embrace with (y/n).

“I am yours,” (y/n) whispered as she embraced Alicent. Then the Princess pulled away from the Queen before she could respond.

(y/n) made her way into the carriage. She knew that if she looked back at Alicent she would not be able to leave. 

She turned away from the Keep as her father and sister piled into the carriage. Soon the horses began their journey out of King’s landing.

(y/n) closed her eyes and tried to hold back the deluge of tears that threatened to break free.

-

Alicent watched as the wheelhouse grew farther and farther from the Keep. As soon as the gates closed behind it Alicent rushed to her quarters. 

She sank to her knees and started to cry. 

She was alone again.

Without ally.

Without love.

Without her sun.

A knock on her door shook her from her tears. She stood and faced the door. 

Ser Criston entered with a grave look on his face. 

Alicent’s heart sank. “What is it?”

Ser Criston swallowed hard. “Aemond has returned from Storm’s End, and I’m afraid he’s returned with grave news.”

Alicent frowned and shut her eyes. As she followed Ser Criston out into the hall she realized she had made the right decision to keep (y/n) as far away from the Keep as she could. War would not be avoided. 

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 11/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: Back to the main story in this chapter! Fair warning: you may need a tissue… Only one more big one after this, and then an epilogue! Can't believe this @cssns adventure is almost over! (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl!) rated M | 4.5k words | AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Dorian hummed to himself in thought. He’d been sneaking around the former wicked witch’s property, stealing some of the leftover golden straw made by Rumpelstiltskin (he wasn’t sure how he’d missed it the first time), when he noticed his brother at the front door of the house. So, obviously, he decided to eavesdrop, lingering just below the kitchen window. 

He had to admit—the heroes’ idea of using the Crimson Heart to render him powerless was a valid one, if the connection between his and his brother’s magic was accurate. And he had every reason to believe it; there was a period of a few weeks a couple years ago when his own magic wouldn’t work. He’d been in New York City at the time and just attributed the dysfunction to the lack of magic in the rest of this realm finally catching up to him. But based on what little he’d deduced about the timing of Hook’s dabble with the underworld, it was likely then, and it returned whenever his twin had been resurrected. (He’d spent the bulk of that time with a lovely redhead anyways.)

(He’d also finally read the novel supposedly inspired by his life, after delaying it for over a century. Damn, Oscar had taken quite a number of liberties with that story, but given what he knew about the man, none were surprising. He loathed that he gave it a moral, though, and a tragic ending to boot, when Dorian himself had few and had no plans of failing.)

He translocated away before his brother could leave the farmhouse, heading for the queen’s vault. He’d heard of the Crimson Heart, but never thought he’d have a reason to seek it out—he was all about acquiring power, not losing it. He still wasn’t sure how exactly he could use it, but better to have it in his arsenal before it could be used against him. 

As he approached the vault, he could sense the protection spell the queen had placed around it—far stronger than the one at the town line. Well, that was no problem; he reached into an inner pocket and pulled out an odd-looking dagger; the blade looked vaguely like bone. It was precisely what he’d been looking for during his ill-fated adventure in London all those years ago: the knife was made from a sliver of Maui’s legendary fish hook, having the ability to cut through any spell (though he didn’t come across it for a few more decades). 

He flipped it in his hand, then stabbed at the air, connecting with the barrier. Then he cut down; a bright red line followed, glowing as it created a break in the spell. When he reached the ground, he was able to slip his other hand into the split and part it like a curtain, then stepped through. 

Foolishly, the queen hadn’t put any further security measures on her hideaway. To be fair, that was a strong spell guarding it—few would be able to get through with their lives. But he was usually the exception to any rules.

He’d been focused on the books the first time he’d been down here, but could easily tell it was a treasure trove of other useful items. Based on what he’d overheard, the object he was looking for had some inherent magic of its own; that would make it easier to locate among all the other clutter.

It took a few tries—and only after uncovering a number of other, actual hearts—before he found it, set casually on a shelf in a box. It was a clear-ish stone, vaguely tinted green or red, depending on the angle, but he could feel the void-like enchantment it held. It was just waiting to absorb whatever magic it could get.

For a brief moment, he wondered if there was a way to use it as a siphon—perhaps he could merely take his brother’s magic for his own, including that bit of Darkness? But no; everything he’d heard about this was that it was a one-way vacuum, and he was too close to achieving his goals to risk it by getting greedy.

He closed up the box and tucked it under his arm, then transported away, to another part of town. If a town as quaint as Storybrooke could have a seedy side, this was it: a short strip of warehouses and industrial spaces near the docks. A plain, almost charred-looking cinderblock building sat at the end of the lane, with a sign by the door reading Wayland Smith (if one could read it, that is; the metal sign was almost tarnished beyond recognition).

A rush of heat welcomed Dorian as he pulled the door open; inside, a number of forges were going, giving the entire space an orange glow.

In the back of the shop, a man wore a welding helmet and was shaping red-hot metal with a hammer; the resounding clang echoed in the large space as sparks erupted from his project. He stopped when he saw Dorian approach, though, and lifted the mask.

There was nothing special or unique about his appearance. He was just…a man, albeit a large one. It was near impossible to tell he was the centuries-old Wayland the Smith of legend. Perhaps that was how he’d survived so long, though. But that wasn’t Dorian’s style.

“Y’ready, then?” Wayland asked gruffly.

“As ever,” Dorian replied.

Wayland beckoned him to follow to one of the massive furnaces, which was currently cold. But at the table in front of it, a crucible was waiting next to a fresh-looking mold. “Wha’ever you’ve got, put it in there,” he brusquely explained, nodding at the cup. 

Dorian first pulled out his brother’s namesake prosthesis and attempted to put it in the melting pot, but it was too big. Wayland took it from him, whacked it on the edge of…some sort of structure within the foundry to snap it in half, and then put the broken pieces back in. 

Then, Dorian pulled out the strands of gold he’d taken from the former dungeon at the farmhouse, as well as the last ingredient he’d taken from the Evil Queen’s vault the week prior: ambrosia dust. Neither of those objects was very potent on their own, but in combination—oh, they were going to be everything.

He set the gold down on the worksurface and dumped the vial of dust into his left hand. He then picked the gold back up and closed his eyes, focusing on the remnants of dark magic that lingered in the metal strands. Even if the Darkness no longer truly existed, it still left its fingerprints—like it had on his brother and the others, and like it did in this bit of gold, fabricated with its use.

The strands began to glow and warm in his hold; he smirked at the feel of it, then opened his eyes and dragged the wires through the dust in his other palm. The ambrosia—known for its ability to resurrect the dead when in its pure form—would help bring back those powers, and the metal gleamed even brighter as it picked up and held onto the specks of dust. 

He bent the bits in half and added them to the crucible. Obviously, that wasn’t all it was going to take to bring back the Darkness—he still needed to get at those bits stuck to their souls, and that would require a blood tether first—but this was the start of finally getting what was his.

“Care to light it, sir?” Wayland asked, pointing toward the furnace. They could have used any of the other ones, but Dorian figured it would be all the more meaningful if his own magic fueled the fire.

He stood in front of the cavernous hole, then put his hands together at chest height. Between them, he created a dense fireball, small, then growing larger as he moved his hands apart, calling on his magic to increase its size and intensity.

When he had a fireball nearly the size of his abdomen, he pushed the whole thing into the furnace; it immediately began to lick at the brick walls and set it alight from the inside, to the point that he had to shield his eyes.

Wayland was watching the temperature gauge on the outside; when it was heated enough, he gestured for Dorian to step back. Then the smith pulled his visor back down and pushed the crucible into the blazing hot oven. 

Dorian had no idea how long it took for metal to melt down, but it was somehow both longer and less time than he expected; perhaps he was just anxious. Still, the next time Wayland moved, it was to bring the crucible back out, now filled with bright orange liquid.

(There was something exceedingly satisfying about the fact that he’d not only taken Captain Hook’s hook, but that he’d also essentially destroyed it.)

Expertly, Wayland turned around, not losing a drop of the molten alloy, and poured it into the mold Dorian had commissioned earlier in the week. From the angle he stood at, he could see the light from it illuminate the inside of the form until it just reached the top.

The men shared a beer as they waited for it to cool, and once it got close to being ready, Wayland fitted it with the handle that Dorian provided—made from a chunk of wood he’d kept in his pocket from a tree on the grounds of the Dark Castle. (It had been his favorite tree to climb as a child, and he’d always kept a piece of it on him in case he ever needed help finding his way home. But this seemed to be a far more fitting spot for it now.)

Wayland assessed the form, then nodded; he assumed that meant it was ready. Dorian tossed the cigarette he’d been dragging on into the furnace, then watched as the smithy tapped and pulled with his tools to undo the mold.

It took a few hard hits, but then—there it was; a bit rough still, but gorgeous: a new dagger for a new Dark One.

It was similar in shape to the one of lore—it had mostly the same tapered shape with its undulating edges, but had a few more curls added on the sides, ending in dangerously sharp points. A pattern similar to the old one was pressed into the blade in relief, but was the same color as the rest of the metal at the moment.

Wayland took the blade to yet another part of his workspace and flipped the switch on another machine, first sanding it a bit and then buffing it until it gleamed.

He gave it one final inspection then, seemingly satisfied, took it carefully by the blade and extended the handle to Dorian. “All yours, m’lord.”

Dorian couldn’t hold back his grin as he took it and looked it over. “Oh, it’s perfect,” he remarked, turning it over in his grip and enjoying the weight of it in his grasp. He pressed a fingertip into one of the points; it came back bleeding. “Yes—perfect.”

“Good,” Wayland answered. “Anythin’ else ya need?”

Dorian hummed, giving it another once over. “There is one thing.”

“Wha’s that?”

Swiftly, Dorian took the dagger and shoved it into Wayland’s shoulder. The man cried out in pain and fell to his knees, which seemed dramatic; it’s not like it was a fatal stab. 

But then Dorian pulled it out to an even harsher scream, and realized that the extra points on the edges probably made it worse. 

Still, the blade was covered in blood. It looked wonderful, but it wasn’t the blood he ultimately needed. 

He summoned a small fireball and ran it along the sides of the dagger; the blood turned dark and filled in the designs pressed into its surface. There—now it looked like the Dark One’s dagger. 

Time to make it real. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Since becoming mortal again, Rumpelstiltskin had learned to appreciate the blessings of a full night’s sleep. Although he had forgotten how light a sleeper he’d been prior to taking on the curse; it didn’t take much to wake him—especially once his son arrived and didn’t seem to understand the concept of a normal sleep schedule. (Not for the first time, his heart went out to Milah having to do that on her own centuries prior.) 

Gideon had at least grown out of that now (mostly), but Rumple retained the ability to wake at the slightest disturbance. Given that he still had a number of enemies, it was a useful skill, even if he largely towed the correct side of morality nowadays.

So he wasn’t surprised to wake in the middle of the night. However, he wasn’t sure why. A glance at the monitor sitting on his nightstand indicated Gideon was still asleep, and Belle was lightly snoring next to him. No other sounds could be heard; not even the hooting of an owl outside (the only thing that typically woke him lately, and—if he was being honest—his main rival at the moment).

The moments he missed having magic were few and far between, but this was one of them. As he sat up, so did the hair on the back of his neck—someone was there.

And he could only think of one foe who would be able to enter undetected.

“What do you want, Mr. Gray?”

The shadows shifted on the far side of the room as the man in question came forward. “Color me impressed, Dark One; you still have your wits about you.”

“I had them before I had that title; why wouldn’t I when that title no longer exists?”

“For now,” Dorian countered. He could only just make out the shape of him in the bit of light that came through the drapes.

“Please; you’re not still on about that, are you?”

“Indeed I am,” Dorian countered, then suddenly appeared at Rumple’s bedside—and was pressing a cold bit of metal against his neck. 

Rumpelstiltskin jumped away and looked down; that fool had the dagger. Or, a version of it—this one seemed a bit more dangerous (and far more impractical). “Where the hell did you get that?” he asked, hoping he sounded unimpressed—though, in reality, it did worry him a bit. The dagger was only ever a conduit, but the fact that Dorian had one wasn’t a good sign. 

“Why, I made it,” Dorian boasted. “And I came here to thank you for your help. It’s mostly my brother’s hook, but you left some gold behind in that storm cellar; gives it just that little extra boost of magic, I think.” He pressed it close to Rumple’s neck again. “What do you think? Pretty great, eh?”

Of course, that’s when Belle stirred next to him. “Rumple?” she asked sleepily. “What’s going—”

Her (obvious) question was cut off as she was quickly frozen in place. “I thought your magic was fire, not ice,” Rumple bit out. 

“Bit of everything,” Dorian shrugged. 

Rumple took a deep breath but tried to be steady about it, and not let on the nerves that were stirring. (He may have been a coward long ago, but he was no such thing now—not when it came to his family’s safety, at least, and he was at a severe disadvantage here.) “I’m surprised you didn’t already put your name on it,” he instead taunted. “Since you seem to think you’re entitled to be the Dark One.”

“Oh, no no no,” Dorian replied. “I need to earn it—just how you did. I want to know the joyous feeling of watching my name engrave itself after I’ve won it outright.”

Rumple remembered his own emotions upon suddenly seeing his name etched in that cursed steel. “Joy? I just remember feeling sick.” The memory had dulled over his years in the Darkness, but it was another of those things that came back to him with mortality. “I was willing to do anything for my son, but I didn’t know that would be the cost.”

“You were fine with murder, but not with the Darkness?” Dorian scoffed. “That’s an odd line to draw.”

“Desperation does that to people,” he countered. “Your father was apparently determined enough to make sure you didn’t get those powers that he duped me into it.”

Even in the dark, he could see the fire of anger light the other man’s eyes. 

“Which actually brings me to a question,” Rumple went on. “Why are you so desperate to be the Dark One? And don’t just tell me it’s because you were promised; you already have magic and found a way to immortality, so what could you want with them?”

“Because I have nothing else,” Dorian spat. “No family, no friends—no loved ones. I’ve devoted and sacrificed so much of my life in pursuit of this. I deserve it.” Rumple rolled his eyes, but Dorian didn’t notice. “My birth parents gave me up—in favor of another, I’ve recently learned—and I killed my only other love. This is it—this is all that remains of the only person who showed me any care. And I will have it.”

Rumple narrowed his eyes—and was suddenly sympathetic. “You want to prove to your father that you were worthy of the magic.”

Dorian said nothing.

“Trust me, I know all about complicated paternal relationships. But you can move past that; you can find something else worth living for.” He looked over at Belle, still frozen, to emphasize his point. “I did, and so did your brother.”

“No, I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Dorian answered, almost sadly.

And with a flick of his wrist, both men disappeared in a cloud of fiery smoke.

Rumple just hoped he wasn’t about to lament the fact he couldn’t say goodbye to Belle.

He knew he was resourceful and could find a way out; but he knew the target wasn’t just on his head, and hoped his inevitable allies were thinking just as far ahead.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Dorian was beginning to regret not drawing up a dramatically oversized checklist of the things he needed to complete his plan. First on the list was the dagger—check; Rumpelstiltskin was a little further down, but he could cross him off, too.

Next up: his portrait. Much like the Crimson Heart, he mainly wanted to keep it close to prevent it being used against him, but he also wanted the inherent magic in it handy if the situation called for it. He transported himself and the former Dark One to the storage room above the library, making sure to tie up Rumple’s hands in the process, lest he make a grab for any potential weapons.

The room was musty and dim, with only a bit of light coming through the spaces between the boarded-up windows from the streetlamps outside. But he didn’t need to be able to see to find the portrait—he could hear it, the steady beating of Sybil’s heart still echoing his.

At least—he thought he was fine, until he ran into several somethings dangling from the ceiling.

He cried out in surprise; meanwhile, Rumpelstiltskin laughed. “Careful, lad; I’m sure there’s a metaphor there about needing light in the darkness.”

“Lad? You’re hardly older than me.”

“Still am,” he shrugged.

Dorian turned away and tried to brush…whatever it was out of his path, but there were more of them. “The bloody hell are these? Some primitive security system?”

“Dreamcatchers,” Rumple explained. “I forgot we put them up here.”

“What value do those have?” He’d never heard of spells requiring stolen dreams—but the longest Dark One to ever hold the title probably had.

“It’s a bit of magic that originated from the indigenous folk of this land,” he said. “Not just to hold dreams, but memories.”

“There are stones for that,” Dorian retorted.

“Aye, but only in a few places. These can be made anywhere. See for yourself how they work.”

Dorian looked over at his foe; he felt like he was being baited, but he didn’t know into what. He could play along, though; Rumpelstiltskin’s hours were numbered, so he might as well take in any bits of knowledge from the man he could.

He reached up to grab the nearest dreamcatcher. “No, not that one,” Rumple interrupted. “That one, over there—with the black feathers. You’ll like that one.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow skeptically, but obliged, and took down the one made with a reddish ring of wood (at least, as far as he could tell in the dark) with feathers hanging off of it as described.

It didn’t do anything at first, but he could feel the magic simmering inside the web of strings across its middle.

“Now what?” he asked, impatient.

“Just give it a second.”

He looked back at it, and then, slowly, an image appeared in the empty middle of the dreamcatcher. He leaned in closer to study it, and then—it was like he was inside the memory.

A couple dozen hooded figures stood in a half circle at one end of the clearing; at the center stood Hook and Emma. But they looked very different from the couple he’d met here in town: Emma had bleached-white hair and a severe, all black outfit; while Hook…looked a bit more like him—hair parted on the right, dressed far more casually than he’d seen him yet (though still in all black), with an emptiness in his eyes that seemed out of character.

What was most astonishing, though, was the fact that his twin was holding a united Excalibur in his hand, and it wasn’t hard to make out the names Killian Jones and Emma Swan both engraved in it. 

“Impossible,” Dorian gasped.

“Just keep watching,” Rumple told him from…somewhere beyond his awareness; this must be his own memory.

Next to Hook, a cloaked woman stood—with noticeably scaly skin. Was that… “Nimue?” he wondered aloud.

“In the flesh, so to speak,” Rumple confirmed. 

He scanned the rest of the figures, and realized the posture of one was exceedingly familiar. “Zoso,” he whispered. They were all the past Dark Ones. Gods, he was about to get starstruck.

Nimue announced, “It’s time,” though for what, he couldn’t tell. But it triggered Emma, who angrily proclaimed, “No—you are not taking the people I love.” Her voice was harsher than he recalled.

Nimue lifted her hand to magically choke Emma; it obviously wouldn’t kill her, but it definitely stopped her in her tracks. The original Dark One taunted Emma, but Dorian was more focused on his brother’s reaction. At first, it was nothing; then, he seemed to be avoiding Emma’s eyes. But the moment he met them, the change in his countenance was visible, from realization to horror to anger.

“That’s enough,” he spat as he turned to face Nimue. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, not giving up her hold on Emma’s neck.

“Being the man I want to be,” Killian answered. 

“You can’t stop us,” she boasted. 

“Yes, I can.” Hook held Excalibur aloft, then closed his eyes and concentrated—on pulling all the other Dark Ones into the blade. Emma was let go and caught her breath, but Dorian was focused on the disappearing image of Zoso from the ring of sorcerers. 

When it was done, the blade had changed its color, to black with a red glow from its engravings. His brother was visibly shaking at the effort to hold it—them—in. 

“Killian, you can’t do this,” Emma told him tearfully; it reminded him somehow of his last moments with Sybil. 

“We both know there’s no other way, love,” Hook told her, equally emotional. “We have to hurry; the Darkness won’t stay trapped in Excalibur much longer—take it.” (Were Dorian actually there, he would have done so in a heartbeat—but not to do what he had a feeling was about to happen.)

Emma tried to refuse him, but after a brief debate, Killian was able to convince her. “Let me die a hero; that’s the man I want you to remember—please.” Dorian rolled his eyes a bit, but they were also glued to the scene.

Reluctantly, Emma took the sword; it wasn’t obvious if its own weight or that of her next task was making her struggle to hold it. 

Hook was beginning to brace himself, but Emma wasn’t ready. She whispered that she loved him, and pulled him into a kiss that clearly had goodbye written all over it. He returned the sentiment, then nodded at her as she stepped back.

She hesitated again, until Killian told her it was okay. She lifted the blade slowly, and it seemed like she wasn’t going to move—until she abruptly surged forward, piercing him through the chest with the sword.

Dorian sucked in his own breath at it; despite being told the abridged version, he almost thought she wouldn’t go through with it. Almost immediately, Hook collapsed on Emma’s shoulder, but managed to push himself away in time to see the Darkness drop its hold on Emma; she glowed briefly, but then was left looking much the same as the sheriff that Dorian now knew.

She pulled the blade out—likely only hastening death—and it disintegrated, but she was too distracted by the dying man in front of her to care. 

She grabbed him as he fell to the ground, and went down with him. Her sobs filled the clearing, echoing around him.

But then, all of a sudden, he was back in the storeroom above the library. He gasped, and could feel the wetness on his cheeks from the tears that scene apparently elicited. 

“Impressive magic, eh?” Rumple said; Dorian had almost forgotten that he was there—why either of them were there. And he wasn’t sure if the man was referring to that which allowed him to watch that scene unfold—or what happened in it.

“Rubbish,” he tried to counter, but the emotion in his voice betrayed him.

“Like I said, you don’t have to do this,” Rumple told him again, softer. “Your brother—”

“Is a completely different person than me,” Dorian spat back. “You really thought this would get me to change my resolve? Some little mind game?” He tossed the dreamcatcher aside. “Nothing will stop me from getting what I want.” 

He turned on a dime and followed Sybil’s heartbeat to his portrait; he was glad there wasn’t enough light to see what it looked like. 

When he returned, Rumple was still looking smug. “Come on,” he snapped, then shoved the man with magic, compelling him to follow him.

“What now?” he asked.

“If my brother is half the hero he says he is, he and his bride won’t hesitate to come to your rescue. And then I’ll finally take what should have been mine—what he threw away.”

They made their way down the stairs and into the night, but he could still feel a sense of self-satisfaction coming off Rumple, as if he was convinced that showing him that scene had impacted Dorian at all. It hadn’t.

(At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows​ @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

[dailyanarchistposts]

Chapter VII. Fifth Period. — Police, Or Taxation.

2. — Antinomy of the tax.

I sometimes hear the champions of the statu quo maintain that for the present we enjoy liberty enough, and that, in spite of the declamation against the existing order, we are below the level of our institutions. So far at least as taxation is concerned, I am quite of the opinion of these optimists.

According to the theory that we have just seen, the tax is the reaction of society against monopoly. Upon this point opinions are unanimous: citizens and legislators, economists, journalists, and ballad-writers, rendering, each in their own tongue, the social thought, vie with each other in proclaiming that the tax should fall upon the rich, strike the superfluous and articles of luxury, and leave those of prime necessity free. In short, they have made the tax a sort of privilege for the privileged: a bad idea, since it involved a recognition of the legitimacy of privilege, which in no case, whatever shape it may take, is good for anything. The people had to be punished for this egoistic inconsistency: Providence did not fail in its duty.

From the moment, then, of the conception of the tax as a counter-claim, it had to be fixed proportionally to means, whether it struck capital or affected income more especially. Now, I will point out that the levying of the tax at so much a franc being precisely that which should be adopted in a country where all fortunes were equal, saving the differences in the cost of assessment and collection, the treasury is the most liberal feature of our society, and that on this point our morals are really behind our institutions. But as with the wicked the best things cannot fail to be detestable, we shall see the equalitarian tax crush the people precisely because the people are not up to it.

I will suppose that the gross income in France, for each family of four persons, is 1,000 francs: this is a little above the estimate of M. Chevalier, who places it at only 63 centimes a day for each individual, or 919 francs 80 centimes for each household. The tax being today more than a thousand millions, or about an eighth of the total income, each family, earning 1,000 francs a year, is taxed 125 francs.

Accordingly, an income of 2,000 francs pays 250 francs; an income of 3,000 francs, 375; an income of 4,000 francs, 500, etc. The proportion is strict and mathematically irreproachable; the treasury, by arithmetic, is sure of losing nothing.

But on the side of the taxpayers the affair totally changes its aspect. The tax, which, in the intention of the legislator, was to have been proportioned to fortune, is, on the contrary, progressive in the ratio of poverty, so that, the poorer the citizen is, the more he pays. This I shall try to make plain by a few figures.

According to the proportional tax, there is due to the treasury: for an income of 1,000 2,000 3,000 4,000 5,000 6,000 francs, etc. a tax of 125 250 375 500 625 750

According to this series, then, the tax seems to increase proportionally to income.

But when it is remembered that each annual income is made up of 365 units, each of which represents the daily income of the taxpayer, the tax will no longer be found proportional; it will be found equal. In fact, if the State levies a tax of 125 francs on an income of 1,000 francs, it is as if it took from the taxed family 45 days’ subsistence; likewise the assessments of 250, 375, 500, 625, and 750 francs, corresponding to incomes of 2,000, 3,000, 4,000, 5,000, and 6,000 francs, constitute in each case a tax of 45 days’ pay upon each of those who enjoy these incomes.

I say now that this equality of taxation is a monstrous inequality, and that it is a strange illusion to imagine that, because the daily income is larger, the tax of which it is the base is higher. Let us change our point of view from that of personal to that of collective income.

As an effect of monopoly social wealth abandoning the laboring class to go to the capitalistic class, the object of taxation has been to moderate this displacement and react against usurpation by enforcing a proportional replevin upon each privileged person. But proportional to what? To the excess which the privileged person has received undoubtedly, and not to the fraction of the social capital which his income represents. Now, the object of taxation is missed and the law turned into derision when the treasury, instead of taking its eighth where this eighth exists, asks it precisely of those to whom it should be restored. A final calculation will make this evident.

Setting the daily income of each person in France at 68 centimes, the father of a family who, whether as wages or as income from his capital, receives 1,000 francs a year receives four shares of the national income; he who receives 2,000 francs has eight shares; he who receives 4,000 francs has sixteen, etc. Hence it follows that the workman who, on an income of 1,000 francs, pays 125 francs into the treasury renders to public order half a share, or an eighth of his income and his family’s subsistence; whereas the capitalist who, on an income of 6,000 francs, pays only 750 francs realizes a profit of 17 shares out of the collective income, or, in other words, gains by the tax 425 per cent.

Let us reproduce the same truth in another form.

The voters of France number about 200,000. I do not know the total amount of taxes paid by these 200,000 voters, but I do not believe that I am very far from the truth in supposing an average of 300 francs each, or a total of 60,000,000 for the 200,000 voters, to which we will add twenty-five per cent. to represent their share of indirect taxes, making in all 75,000,000, or 75 francs for each person (supposing the family of each voter to consist of five persons), which the electoral class pays to the State. The appropriations, according to the “Annuaire Economique” for 1845, being 1,106,000,000, there remains 1,031,000,000, which makes the tax paid by each non-voting citizen 31 francs 30 centimes, — two-fifths of the tax paid by the wealthy class. Now, for this proportion to be equitable, the average welfare of the non-voting class would have to be two-fifths of the average welfare of the voting class: but such is not the truth, as it falls short of this by more than three-fourths.

But this disproportion will seem still more shocking when it is remembered that the calculation which we have just made concerning the electoral class is altogether wrong, altogether in favor of the voters.

In fact, the only taxes which are levied for the enjoyment of the right of suffrage are: (1) the land tax; (2) the tax on polls and personal property; (3) the tax on doors and windows; (4) license-fees. Now, with the exception of the tax on polls and personal property, which varies little, the three other taxes are thrown back on the consumers; and it is the same with all the indirect taxes, for which the holders of capital are reimbursed by the consumers, with the exception, however, of the taxes on property transfers, which fall directly on the proprietor and amount in all to 150,000,000. Now, if we estimate that in this last amount the property of voters figures as one-sixth, which is placing it high, the portion of direct taxes (409,000,000) being 12 francs for each person, and that of indirect taxes (547,000,000) 16 francs, the average tax paid by each voter having a household of five will reach a total of 265 francs, while that paid by the laborer, who has only his arms to support himself, his wife, and two children, will be 112 francs. In more general terms, the average tax upon each person belonging to the upper classes will be 53 francs; upon each belonging to the lower, 28. Whereupon I renew my question: Is the welfare of those below the voting standard half as great as that of those above it?

It is with the tax as with periodical publications, which really cost more the less frequently they appear. A daily journal costs forty francs, a weekly ten francs, a monthly four. Supposing other things to be equal, the subscription prices of these journals are to each other as the numbers forty, seventy, and one hundred and twenty, the price rising with the infrequency of publication. Now, this exactly represents the increase of the tax: it is a subscription paid by each citizen in exchange for the right to labor and to live. He who uses this right in the smallest proportion pays much; he who uses it a little more pays less; he who uses it a great deal pays little.

The economists are generally in agreement about all this. They have attacked the proportional tax, not only in its principle, but in its application; they have pointed out its anomalies, almost all of which arise from the fact that the relation of capital to income, or of cultivated surface to rent, is never fixed.

Given a levy of one-tenth on the income from lands, and lands of different qualities producing, the first eight francs’ worth of grain, the second six francs’ worth, the third five francs’ worth, the tax will call for one-eighth of the income from the most fertile land, one-sixth from that a little less fertile, and, finally, one-fifth from that less fertile still. [24] Will not the tax thus established be just the reverse of what it should be? Instead of land, we may suppose other instruments of production, and compare capitals of the same value, or amounts of labor of the same order, applied to branches of industry differing in productivity: the conclusion will be the same. There is injustice in requiring the same poll-tax of ten francs from the laborer who earns one thousand francs and from the artist or physician who has an income of sixty thousand. — J. Garnier: Principles of Political Economy.

These reflections are very sound, although they apply only to collection or assessment, and do not touch the principle of the tax itself. For, in supposing the assessment to be made upon income instead of upon capital, the fact always remains that the tax, which should be proportional to fortunes, is borne by the consumer.

The economists have taken a resolve; they have squarely recognized the iniquity of the proportional tax.

“The tax,” says Say, “can never be levied upon the necessary.” This author, it is true, does not tell us what we are to understand by the necessary, but we can supply the omission. The necessary is what each individual gets out of the total product of the country, after deducting what must be taken for taxes. Thus, making the estimate in round numbers, the production of France being eight thousand millions and the tax one thousand millions, the necessary in the case of each individual amounts to fifty-six and a half centimes a day. Whatever is in excess of this income is alone susceptible of being taxed, according to J. B. Say; whatever falls short of it must be regarded by the treasury as inviolable.

The same author expresses this idea in other words when he says: “The proportional tax is not equitable.” Adam Smith had already said before him: “It is not unreasonable that the rich man should contribute to the public expenses, not only in proportion to his income, but something more.” “I will go further,” adds Say; “I will not fear to say that the progressive tax is the only equitable tax.” And M. J. Garnier, the latest abridger of the economists, says: “Reforms should tend to establish a progressional equality, if I may use the phrase, much more just, much more equitable, than the pretended equality of taxation, which is only a monstrous inequality.”

So, according to general opinion and the testimony of the economists, two things are acknowledged: one, that in its principle the tax is a reaction against monopoly and directed against the rich; the other, that in practice this same tax is false to its object; that, in striking the poor by preference, it commits an injustice; and that the constant effort of the legislator must be to distribute its burden in a more equitable fashion.

I needed to establish this double fact solidly before passing to other considerations: now commences my criticism.

The economists, with that simplicity of honest folk which they have inherited from their elders and which even today is all that stands to their credit, have taken no pains to see that the progressional theory of the tax, which they point out to governments as the ne plus ultra of a wise and liberal administration, was contradictory in its terms and pregnant with a legion of impossibilities. They have attributed the oppression of the treasury by turns to the barbarism of the time, the ignorance of princes, the prejudices of caste, the avarice of collectors, everything, in short, which, in their opinion, preventing the progression of the tax, stood in the way of the sincere practice of equality in the distribution of public burdens; they have not for a moment suspected that what they asked under the name of progressive taxation was the overturn of all economic ideas.

Thus they have not seen, for instance, that the tax was progressive from the very fact that it was proportional, the only difference being that the progression was in the wrong direction, the percentage being, as we have said, not directly, but inversely proportional to fortunes. If the economists had had a clear idea of this overturn, invariable in all countries where taxation exists, so singular a phenomenon would not have failed to draw their attention; they would have sought its causes, and would have ended by discovering that what they took for an accident of civilization, an effect of the inextricable difficulties of human government, was the product of the contradiction inherent in all political economy.

The progressive tax, whether applied to capital or to income, is the very negation of monopoly, of that monopoly which is met everywhere, according to M. Rossi, across the path of social economy; which is the true stimulant of industry, the hope of economy, the preserver and parent of all wealth; of which we have been able to say, in short, that society cannot exist without it, but that, except for it, there would be no society. Let the tax become suddenly what it unquestionably must sometime be, — namely, the proportional (or progressional, which is the same thing) contribution of each producer to the public expenses, and straightway rent and profit are confiscated everywhere for the benefit of the State; labor is stripped of the fruits of its toil; each individual being reduced to the proper allowance of fifty-six and a half centimes, poverty becomes general; the compact formed between labor and capital is dissolved, and society, deprived of its rudder, drifts back to its original state.

It will be said, perhaps, that it is easy to prevent the absolute annihilation of the profits of capital by stopping the progression at any moment.

Eclecticism, the golden mean, compromise with heaven or with morality: is it always to be the same philosophy, then? True science is repugnant to such arrangements. All invested capital must return to the producer in the form of interest; all labor must leave a surplus, all wages be equal to product. Under the protection of these laws society continually realizes, by the greatest variety of production, the highest possible degree of welfare. These laws are absolute; to violate them is to wound, to mutilate society. Capital, accordingly, which, after all, is nothing but accumulated labor, is inviolable. But, on the other hand, the tendency to equality is no less imperative; it is manifested at each economic phase with increasing energy and an invincible authority. Therefore you must satisfy labor and justice at once; you must give to the former guarantees more and more real, and secure the latter without concession or ambiguity.

Instead of that, you know nothing but the continual substitution of the good pleasure of the prince for your theories, the arrest of the course of economic law by arbitrary power, and, under the pretext of equity, the deception of the wage worker and the monopolist alike! Your liberty is but a half-liberty, your justice but a half-justice, and all your wisdom consists in those middle terms whose iniquity is always twofold, since they justify the pretensions of neither one party nor the other! No, such cannot be the science which you have promised us, and which, by unveiling for us the secrets of the production and consumption of wealth, must unequivocally solve the social antinomies. Your semi-liberal doctrine is the code of despotism, and shows that you are powerless to advance as well as ashamed to retreat.

If society, pledged by its economic antecedents, can never retrace its steps; if, until the arrival of the universal equation, monopoly must be maintained in its possession, — no change is possible in the laying of taxes: only there is a contradiction here, which, like every other, must be pushed till exhausted. Have, then, the courage of your opinions, — respect for wealth, and no pity for the poor, whom the God of monopoly has condemned. The less the hireling has wherewith to live, the more he must pay: qui minus habet, etiam quod habet auferetur ab eo. This is necessary, this is inevitable; in it lies the safety of society.

Let us try, nevertheless, to reverse the progression of the tax, and so arrange it that the capitalist, instead of the laborer, will pay the larger share.

I observe, in the first place, that with the usual method of collection, such a reversal is impracticable.

In fact, if the tax falls on exploitable capital, this tax, in its entirety, is included among the costs of production, and then of two things one: either the product, in spite of the increase in its selling value, will be bought by the consumer, and consequently the producer will be relieved of the tax; or else this same product will be thought too dear, and in that case the tax, as J. B. Say has very well said, acts like a tithe levied on seed, -it prevents production. Thus it is that too high a tax on the transfer of titles arrests the circulation of real property, and renders estates less productive by keeping them from changing hands.

If, on the contrary, the tax falls on product, it is nothing but a tax of quotité, which each pays in the ratio of his consumption, while the capitalist, whom it is purposed to strike, escapes.

Moreover, the supposition of a progressive tax based either on product or on capital is perfectly absurd. How can we imagine the same product paying a duty of ten per cent at the store of one dealer and a duty of but five at another’s? How are estates already encumbered with mortgages and which change owners every day, how is a capital formed by joint investment or by the fortune of a single individual, to be distinguished upon the official register, and taxed, not in the ratio of their value or rent, but in the ratio of the fortune or presumed profits of the proprietor?

There remains, then, a last resource, — to tax the net income of each tax-payer, whatever his method of getting it. For instance, an income of one thousand francs would pay ten per cent.; an income of two thousand francs, twenty per cent.; an income of three thousand francs, thirty per cent., etc. We will set aside the thousand difficulties and annoyances that must be met in ascertaining these incomes, and suppose the operation as easy as you like. Well! that is exactly the system which I charge with hypocrisy, contradiction, and injustice.

I say in the first place that this system is hypocritical, because, instead of taking from the rich that entire portion of their income in excess of the average national product per family, which is inadmissible, it does not, as is imagined, reverse the order of progression in the direction of wealth; at most it changes the rate of progression. Thus the present progression of the tax, for fortunes yielding incomes of a thousand francs and UNDER, being as that of the numbers 10, 11, 12, 13, etc., and, for fortunes yielding incomes of a thousand francs and OVER, as that of the numbers 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, etc., — the tax always increasing with poverty and decreasing with wealth, — if we should confine ourselves to lifting the indirect tax which falls especially on the poorer class and imposing a corresponding tax upon the incomes of the richer class, the progression thereafter, it is true, would be, for the first, only as that of the numbers 10, 10.25, 10.50, 10.75, 11, 11.25, etc., and, for the second, as 10, 9.75, 9.50, 9.25, 9, 8.75, etc. But this progression, although less rapid on both sides, would still take the same direction nevertheless, would still be a reversal of justice; and it is for this reason that the so-called progressive tax, capable at most of giving the philanthropist something to babble about, is of no scientific value. It changes nothing in fiscal jurisprudence; as the proverb says, it is always the poor man who carries the pouch, always the rich man who is the object of the solicitude of power.

I add that this system is contradictory.

In fact, one cannot both give and keep, say the jurisconsults. Instead, then, of consecrating monopolies from which the holders are to derive no privilege save that of straightway losing, with the income, all the enjoyment thereof, why not decree the agrarian law at once? Why provide in the constitution that each shall freely enjoy the fruit of his labor and industry, when, by the fact or the tendency of the tax, this permission is granted only to the extent of a dividend of fifty-six and a half centimes a day, — a thing, it is true, which the law could not have foreseen, but which would necessarily result from progression? The legislator, in confirming us in our monopolies, intended to favor production, to feed the sacred fire of industry: now, what interest shall we have to produce, if, though not yet associated, we are not to produce for ourselves alone? After we have been declared free, how can we be made subject to conditions of sale, hire, and exchange which annul our liberty?

A man possesses government securities which bring him an income of twenty thousand francs. The tax, under the new system of progression, will take fifty per cent. of this from him. At this rate it is more advantageous to him to withdraw his capital and consume the principal instead of the income. Then let him be repaid. What! repaid! The State cannot be obliged to repay; and, if it consents to redeem, it will do so in proportion to the net income. Therefore a bond for twenty thousand francs will be worth not more than ten thousand to the bondholder, because of the tax, if he wishes to get it redeemed by the State: unless he divides it into twenty lots, in which case it will return him double the amount. Likewise an estate which rents for fifty thousand francs, the tax taking two-thirds of the income, will lose two-thirds of its value. But let the proprietor divide this estate into a hundred lots and sell it at auction, and then, the terror of the treasury no longer deterring purchasers, he can get back his entire capital. So that, with the progressive tax, real estate no longer follows the law of supply and demand and is not valued according to the real income which it yields, but according to the condition of the owner. The consequence will be that large capitals will depreciate in value, and mediocrity be brought to the front; land-owners will hasten to sell, because it will be better for them to consume their property than to get an insufficient rent from it; capitalists will recall their investments, or will invest only at usurious rates; all exploitation on a large scale will be prohibited, every visible fortune proceeded against, and all accumulation of capital in excess of the figure of the necessary proscribed. Wealth, driven back, will retire within itself and never emerge except by stealth; and labor, like a man attached to a corpse, will embrace misery in an endless union. Does it not well become the economists who devise such reforms to laugh at the reformers?

After having demonstrated the contradiction and delusion of the progressive tax, must I prove its injustice also? The progressive tax, as understood by the economists and, in their wake, by certain radicals, is impracticable, I said just now, if it falls on capital and product: consequently I have supposed it to fall on incomes. But who does not see that this purely theoretical distinction between capital, product, and income falls so far as the treasury is concerned, and that the same impossibilities which we have pointed out reappear here with all their fatal character?

A manufacturer discovers a process by means of which, saving twenty per cent of his cost of production, he secures an income of twenty-five thousand francs. The treasury calls on him for fifteen thousand. He is obliged, therefore, to raise his prices, since, by the fact of the tax, his process, instead of saving twenty per cent, saves only eight per cent. Is not this as if the treasury prevented cheapness? Thus, in trying to reach the rich, the progressive tax always reaches the consumer; and it is impossible for it not to reach him without suppressing production altogether: what a mistake!

It is a law of social economy that all invested capital must return continually to the capitalist in the form of interest. With the progressive tax this law is radically violated, since, by the effect of progression, interest on capital is so reduced that industries are established only at a loss of a part or the whole of the capital. To make it otherwise, interest on capital would have to increase progressively in the same ratio as the tax itself, which is absurd. Therefore the progressive tax stops the creation of capital; furthermore it hinders its circulation. Whoever, in fact, should want to buy a plant for any enterprise or a piece of land for cultivation would have to consider, under the system of progressive taxation, not the real value of such plant or land, but rather the tax which it would bring upon him; so that, if the real income were four per cent., and, by the effect of the tax or the condition of the buyer, must go down to three, the purchase could not be effected. After having run counter to all interests and thrown the market into confusion by its categories, the progressive tax arrests the development of wealth and reduces venal value below real value; it contracts, it petrifies society. What tyranny! What derision!

The progressive tax resolves itself, then, whatever may be done, into a denial of justice, prohibition of production, confiscation. It is unlimited and unbridled absolutism, given to power over everything which, by labor, by economy, by improvements, contributes to public wealth.

But what is the use of wandering about in chimerical hypotheses when the truth is at hand. It is not the fault of the proportional principle if the tax falls with such shocking inequality upon the various classes of society; the fault is in our prejudices and our morals. The tax, as far as is possible in human operations, proceeds with equity, precision. Social economy commands it to apply to product; it applies to product. If product escapes it, it strikes capital: what more natural! The tax, in advance of civilization, supposes the equality of laborers and capitalists: the inflexible expression of necessity, it seems to invite us to make ourselves equals by education and labor, and, by balancing our functions and associating our interests, to put ourselves in accord with it. The tax refuses to distinguish between one man and another: and we blame its mathematical severity for the differences in our fortunes! We ask equality itself to comply with our injustice! Was I not right in saying at the outset that, relatively to the tax, we are behind our institutions?

Accordingly we always see the legislator stopping, in his fiscal laws, before the subversive consequences of the progressive tax, and consecrating the necessity, the immutability of the proportional tax. For equality in well-being cannot result from the violation of capital: the antinomy must be methodically solved, under penalty, for society, of falling back into chaos. Eternal justice does not accommodate itself to all the whims of men: like a woman, whom one may outrage, but whom one does not marry without a solemn alienation of one’s self, it demands on our part, with the abandonment of our egoism, the recognition of all its rights, which are those of science.

The tax, whose final purpose, as we have shown, is the reward of the non-producers, but whose original idea was a restoration of the laborer, — the tax, under the system of monopoly, reduces itself therefore to a pure and simple protest, a sort of extra-judicial act, the whole effect of which is to aggravate the situation of the wage-worker by disturbing the monopolist in his possession. As for the idea of changing the proportional tax into a progressive tax, or, to speak more accurately, of reversing the order in which the tax progresses, that is a blunder the entire responsibility for which belongs to the economists.

But henceforth menace hovers over privilege. With the power of modifying the proportionality of the tax, government has under its hand an expeditious and sure means of dispossessing the holders of capital when it will; and it is a frightful thing to see everywhere that great institution, the basis of society, the object of so many controversies, of so many laws, of so many cajoleries, and of so many crimes, PROPERTY, suspended at the end of a thread over the yawning mouth of the proletariat.

[yankpop]

WARNINGS: Kidnapping

AN: I'm so surprised people liked Bully Mark enough to ask for several parts cause honestly, I feel like I've strayed far away from the bully thing, but anyways, thanks for liking it so much. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

--

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

--

“Who are you messaging?” Mark questions you, his eyes full of suspicion.

Lately you have been constantly on your phone, exchanging messages with someone you didn’t bother to share. Hell, you even changed your password and refused to reveal it to Mark. So no wonder he is getting impatient. 

“Huh, no one. Just a friend.” you say without even looking at him. He moves himself over the table to have a view over your phone, but you’re quick to move away, hiding the screen from him. Anger boils inside of Mark, annoyed by your actions. 

“Let me see it.” he orders you, his hand snapping forward to grab the device. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, but you keep a hold on your phone. 

“No! Mark, stop it!” you yell, attracting the attention of a few students nearby. Mark uses his strength to pull the phone out of your weak grip, ignoring your desperate pleas to return it. 

He lets out a victorious chuckle as he notices the phone being unlocked, you didn’t have the time to press the button to lock it. 

Opening the last app you used, he stops as he notices a familiar name right on the last person you messaged. 

Shotaro. 

He vaguely remembers the shy, sickenly sweet boy you partnered once for an assignment.

His hold on the phone becomes impossibly tighter as he scrolls down the messages, noticing the content of your conversation. Nothing too incriminating, but you’re awfully nice to him. Much nicer than you’ve ever been with him. You even sent the guy a fucking heart emoji. 

He feels a wave of uncontrollable fury growing inside him and takes a deep breath. If that’s how you wanna play, after all the warnings he’s given you, then fine. 

Pushing the phone towards you, he leaves the table, ignoring you.

You never should’ve become friends with Shotaro, now you’re deeply regretting it. Although Mark hasn’t spoken a word to you, it’s become clear that you two “broke up”.

He walks around the school with his friends without even glancing your way and the rare occasions your eyes meet each other, you’re the first one to turn away with how cold and uncaring they are. 

You’ve gained your liberty back but strangely enough, you feel more trapped now than before. It feels as if everything is wrong, Mark is obsessed with you and yet he just leaves you like that? Doesn’t feel right, it seems like you’re walking on thin ice. 

Plus, your life is a living hell now. You’re getting trashed around the entire college as everyone assumes you’ve cheated on Mark, even your own sister thinks that and gives you the cold shoulder.

No one talks to you, not even Shotaro. He took a 180º degree turn by becoming part of Mark’s friends group. 

You’re free but completely lonely. 

One day, you receive a short mysterious message from Mark.

“Can you come over to my apartment? We need to talk.” 

You feel a pang in your heart, thinking maybe it’s him looking for closure and to end this miserable chapter of your lives. You even consider apologizing to him, if that makes things better.

Upon reaching his apartment, you raise your hand to knock but before you can, the door opens. Mark looks at you, a strange smile lingering in his lips as he invites you inside. 

“Hey. You wanted to talk?” you shyly ask, dropping your eyes to the floor. You expect him to answer you, but instead all you hear is the sound of the door locking.

Several times. 

You immediately back, finding Mark with a set of keys locking several locks on the door. Small drops of cold sweat start forming on your back. 

Mark turns around, a wicked expression taking over his face. 

"Now we can talk."

[darkmessiah2000]

2023 has been a really hectic year when it comes to the entertainment industry, what with the writers and actors strikes and project delays, but overall we still got a lot of good content this year and I’m especially looking forward to what 2024 has to offer.

Suzume

Oppenheimer

The Creator

John Wick: Chapter 4

A Haunting In Venice

The Super Mario Bros Movie

The Boy And The Heron

Godzilla Minus One

Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse

Napoleon

Flowers Of The Killer Moon

Scream VI

The Covenant

Evil Dead Rise

The Boogeyman

Rebel Moon

M3GAN

The Last Voyage Of The Demeter

Five Nights At Freddy’s

Indiana Jones And The Dial Of Destiny

Haunted Mansion

Renfield

Talk To Me

The Exorcist: Believer

Guardians Of The Galaxy Vol. 3

Ant-Man: Quantumania

The Owl House Season 3

Castlevania Nocturne

Barry Season 4

Attack On Titan Final Season

Invincible Season 2

Ahsoka

The Mandalorian Season 3

The Bad Batch Season 2

The Amazing Digital Circus

Godspeed

Lackadaisy

Good Omens Season 2

Archer Season 14

Lawman Bass Reeves

Monarch: Legacy Of Monsters

Harley Quinn Season 4

Skull Island

Solar Opposites Season 4

Rick And Morty Season 7

Sonic Prime Season 2

The Witcher Season 3

The Last Of Us

The Continental

Sister Boniface Mysteries Season 2

Father Brown Season 10

Loki Season 2

A Small Light

Scavengers Reign

Blue-Eyed Samurai

Gamera: Rebirth

Starfield

Avatar: Frontiers Of Pandora

Hogwarts Legacy

Dead Space (Remake)

Dead Island 2

Star Wars Jedi Survivor

Spider-Man 2

The Legend Of Zelda: Tears Of The Kingdom

Remnant 2

Assassin’s Creed Mirage

Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty

Resident Evil 4 (remake)

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex Ch. 10: First Move

This chapter took 2 weeks to write. One to hash out what all our intrepid villains would need to do to pull this off, and one to actually write the chapter and make sure all bases are covered.

I and @baelpenrose have taken very few liberties with what this trio is doing, but I want to double-down on his note from the previous chapter: trying this would not only be extremely illegal, but in 2024 it wouldn't even remotely work. Especially not the lien release part: most of those records are digital now, and each bank has maybe four people total with the level of access required to release them. Maybe four.

Cause I am, I am

A little wicked

I am, I am

Hands red, hands red

Just like you said

I am, a little wicked

Valerie Broussard, “A Little Wicked”

After two detours - one to find another thermos, the other to fill both - we managed to make our way to a mall so old and worn-looking that even Spirit Halloween would give it a pass. Nils led us around to a side entrance before holding the door open with a sweeping gesture.  I rolled my eyes good naturedly, Bishop groaning behind me as we shouldered past.  Pausing to rub the dust from an old map with one sleeve, I found what I was looking for and glanced up. “Please tell me the stairs are in good shape?  Best Buy is all the way on the fourth floor.”

“They are, and it is, but we won’t need either.”  I suppressed a shiver as he reached past me to tap a location on our same level. “Sears.  The television section is down here, and the cable connections are still intact.”

“And we didn’t enter on that side because…?” Bishop asked, seeing how far away it looked on the map.

“Internet is up, power doors are not,” came the dry answer. “And this door was the only one I could get my hands on a key for.” 

“How did you - “ I started.

“You don’t want to know, Baklava. Plausible deniability - if anyone gets busted, Nothing did the breaking and entering, we weren’t aware he wasn’t lawfully here.” Hiking his bag further up on his shoulder, Bishop grunted. “Let’s go.”

Walking through the mall gave the eerie impression of being a zombie movie - rustling could be heard constantly, along with voices coming from beyond some of the locked grates covering storefronts. Squatters, I realized. Better use of the space than just leaving it here to rot, I thought approvingly. At least they aren’t freezing to death outside.

“Anyway.” Nils led the way into the employee break room in the Sears, one where he’d clearly helped himself to a few of the beanbags from the small furniture store, and locked the door behind us. “Router is behind the counter. We got wifi, we have a place to sit, we have work to do. Everyone, grab a beanbag or a chair. Local squatters won’t bother us in here - there’s an arrangement. I paid for a generator, they don’t mess with my stuff, and stay out of my way when I need to do a thing.” 

I made a mental note to bring food next time, provided I could figure out a way to bring it without Nils or Bishop noticing - last thing I needed was Bishop informing Nils about my stray-cat tendencies.  Grabbing a bean bag and an abandoned tray to set my computer on, I nested in and started getting everything connected.  Once I was happy with where everything was at, I dug in my bag for some snacks, pulling them out triumphantly before realizing Nils and Bishop were staring at me.

“What? You said we had work to do.”

Nils started snickering. “Not that. Just. Never known anyone who brought chili pistachios to a hack job. That’s all.” He shrugged. “Kind of cool.” 

“Creampuff. You and I both know if it was anyone else - like me, or even like Shade, you’d be saying something that would end with everyone either laughing or punching your lights out.” Harvey glanced at him with exasperation.

I offered some of my snack. “Keep the nut jokes to a minimum and I’ll share.”

“Please, Lash. We are not WintermuteWeasel. We come up with classier jokes than that when there is a lady present.” Nils replied, with faux-dignity. 

“In that case, I won’t offer you this,” I sighed dramatically, holding up a bag of homemade jerky. “Because god forbid you put my meat in your mouth.”

Bishop leaned past Nils. “I will gladly put your meat and your nuts in my mouth,” he managed to deadpan, making me throw my head back laughing before handing over both pistachios and jerky.

Nils blinked. “Apologies, clearly I misunderstood your sense of humor. My apologies. I’d do this casually, but you now strike me as the type who’d doubtless prefer a bit of begging for the privilege of your tasty, tasty nuts. Please…” He gave me giant puppy dog eyes and fell out of his bean bag chair, doing his best attempt at looking pathetic, not quite topping how he’d looked when bleeding in a torn suit, but much, much funnier. 

I surrendered and nodded for Bishop to pass the snacks over. “And don’t worry, I didn’t cook any of these, so they taste really good. Fair warning, the lamb jerky is - “

“Hooooleee crap,” Bishop gasped around a mouthful, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a big swig. “Spicy. Very very spicy. Lots of cilantro spicy, was not prepared.”

“That,” I finished lamely. “So go slow or we’ll never get any work done.  Speaking of the Weasel… Any word?”

“Called him, he should be calling back in….” His phone started ringing. “Now. I’ll deal with him, try to keep quiet, both of you. It’s gonna be easier if you two don’t acknowledge that I’m buying for you so he doesn’t hold up the sale for something gross, you know?” He stepped off. “Wintermute, yeah. Best icebreaker. Needs to be less than 30MB. Able to tear through the absolute best encryption out there? Can you do it?”

Something on the other end.

“Need to get a worm and a data bomb through it, and be able to activate the data bomb on the other end after the worm has had time to work. No, you don’t need to know what for. You just need to know the parameters. High end, government encryption. Less than 30MB file size.” Harvey got tense, and began rolling his eyes, held the phone away from his head for a minute. He began doing ducklips - might have picked that up from me.

Eventually he put it back to his head. “Yeah, I get it’ll be expensive. No, no I will not disclose who I’m working with. Cash only payments. Yeah, I can pay that.” 

He hung up. “Great. He’ll meet me in a few weeks. He bitched about it, a lot, but after a bit he said he could do it. It’ll ring three thousand. Each of you down to cover a grand?” 

I squinted and did some mental math. “Yeah, I can cover that.” I’d have to bite the bullet and work on some more anime commissions, but the money was practically sitting there otherwise.  “Richie McWhiteboy, you don’t need to auction off a leather jacket or anything, do you?”

“You know what’s sad? I am so useless in so many ways, but I have the kind of academic credentials where I get paid to research for the university as a grad student as long as I keep helping professors with their research and it covers rent. All my jobs basically just cycle in paying for other jobs and expenses. And I still have money left over to give away. Yeah, I can throw a thousand - probably a little more if it’ll take strain off of you two.”

Bishop winked at me. “Ah, to have rich people problems, right?”

I threw my hands up. “I will totally take financial help in providing snacks and decent coffee. Titties only get me so far.”  Belatedly, I realized what I had said and covered my face with both hands. “ART!” I shouted. “ART!”

Nils snickered. “Most artists have drawn big tittied anime girls for money, and most academics who need it have either written Marvel fanfiction for kinks they didn’t want to know about or written someone else’s papers. Don’t think about it too hard.” 

Bishop just shook his head as I peeked through my fingers and dragged over a second bean bag to prop his feet on. “Before we get completely derailed by a taco joke, let’s reel it in, children.  Our not so friendly neighborhood perv is working on the encryption breaking, do we want to do the worm or databomb first?”

Nils looked to me. “I’d prefer doing the databomb first, since a spore with extra activations is easy enough and just having it done early so all we have left is the hard part means that when we’re done with the hard part we don’t have anything left, but if anyone has any objections to that I’ll hear them?”

“The county records…?” I asked, glancing between the both of them. “You know, the physical liens? With the counties?”

It was completely the opposite of reassuring when Nils went pale and Bishop’s eyes glazed over. With a deadpan, almost contemptuously exhausted tone, Nils grunted, “Fuck. Alright, malware 4 and 5, another encryption breaker, another databomb, let’s go. And find some way of getting those released. And finding which ones we’re looking for…”

“I mean a dial-up bot that just asks after public records isn’t hard, you and I have made like a few dime a dozen ones, that’s easy. Hell, I have a DDoS botnet or two we can repurpose, just collecting dust. Start generating those to get public records on liens, they’re public record. Hard part is the lien releases, that’ll take…some courts and counties take digital copies or faxed copies of the notarized forms, I say we collect the records with that and start sending forged copies out. I mean, we’d need to pay a good forgery guy, but I know one. It takes about thirty days, but we can mill the fucking things once we get all the records and get good fake state seals made.”

“Make sure they are backdated by several months,” I suggested. “Totally Purloined Letter it, act like they’ve had it this entire time and lost their copy. They’ll be too embarrassed to object.”

“Right, add about a month to the process for that and finishing our worm and encryption breaker, county records are easily breakable, we can make our own icebreakers for that but we’re gonna need a lot of computers to launch that many attacks at once…That, plus adequate databombs.”

“Add another twenty five days after we send the fake releases, give time for as many as possible to be recorded,” Bishop added. “They’re less likely to be lumped in with the attack, that way.”

              “Okay. That, plus I have to regularly commune with my morons on their “orders” for the “joint operation” about dealing with the “evil shadow government.” Nils sighed. “Okay. We have a lot of work to do but we should be able to manage it. We can’t brag about it after, which kinda sucks because we’re rapidly approaching Inception-timed-to-music levels of bullshit, and if we pull it off any reasonable world would give us bragging rights forever, but there are way worse things.” 

              “I don’t suppose any of your far right fucknuckle brother uncles are notaries?” I sighed. “We’d never be that lucky.”

              “Sadly, no. I do have a relative who is but she’d never get caught up in anything illegal for political reasons, perish the thought,” Nils’ voice took on a note of contempt. “She conveniently forgets that marrying her husband was illegal until around 60 years ago, and that the entire concept of civil disobedience is ‘breaking the law for political reasons’.”  He shrugged. 

              Bishop grunted, snagging a thermos. “Pocket notaries going on Santa’s wishlist in the event we are ever good little boys and girl…. We are now at 55 day lead time, minimum. The thirty days will give us time to come up with hardware without getting too much scrutiny, and we use that time to let bots dig up the information we need on the liens and student debt.” I blinked and he waggled a finger at me. “I didn’t forget that part, don’t worry. Student debt is going to be the least painful, because zero potential damage there, Sallie Mae can just fuck right off.”  

He typed for second and tilted his head. “Then we send the faked releases - I don’t know if my guy can do them in bulk, so it would be smart to have a program to mock them up as back-up.  Who can code that, because I’ll be too busy.”

I raised my hand. “Digital art en masse is my area of expertise,” I nodded confidently. “I can cobble something together from my animation stuff, no problem.”  Would I test it by using it to clear my commissions inbox? Probably, but they didn’t need to know that.  I already felt guilty enough about it.

“Okay, so I’ll handle the databombs and the basic icebreakers, Bishop will repurpose his dialup net, and Lash will get the mock-ups ready so we can mill out fake lien releases. I’ll also handle getting the gun nuts ready and primed for when we go. We’ll work together on the worm since that’ll be the hardest part.” Nils was standing, the irritated exhaustion gone, eyes suddenly alight. “We have a little less than two months, and when that’s done, we’ll be paying back the banks for the 2008 crash and all the futures they stole with student loans. And we’ll be stealing a lot of them back. Let’s get to work.” 

[moodmusicmonday]

I'm sure I sound like a broken record... but this playlist got me in my feels this week! Seriously. Click on the playlist, open up your Spotify, get lost in the music. Fantastic job as usual!

If you see anything below that is underlined, it is a working link and you should TOTALLY click on it. Just sayin'.

Love you all dearly, and we will see you next week! Thank you so much for sharing and following!

~🎵~

@ao719

“Give Me Your Attention” - The Waiting (Candelion);  Vancross, Chapter 5, You’re Looking At Me (Multiple Crossover Series; Liam x f!OC)

“Ghost (Acoustic)” - Ben Woodward; Untitled, a request follow-up to This Isn’t How It Was Supposed To Be (TRR)

@bebepac

“I Love You” - Billie Eilish; The Rotten Apple, Chapter 13: Sincerely, Lady LIberty [TRH & Beyond; Liam x Riley; Eleanor x m!OC (Nico)] 

@charlotteg234

“Wicked Game” - Daisy Gray; Don’t Break, Chapter 2 (TRR; f!OC x ?)

“Elastic Heart (piano version)” - Sia;  Don’t Break, Chapter 3 (TRR, f!OC x ?)

@kat-tia801

“Heart Beat Here” - Dashboard Confessional; Undeniable, Part 10: You Remain My Time and Place (TRR AU; m!OC x f!OC; Drake Walker x MC; Liam Rys x f!OC)

“Closer to You” - Rasmus Hagen; Undeniable, Part 11: Fighting For So Long Against My History (TRR AU; m!OC x f!OC; Drake Walker x MC; Liam Rys x f!OC)

~🎵~

Tags (please let us know if you wish to be added/removed):

@21-wishes @alj4890 @ao719 @atsuinawa @aussiegurl1234 @axwalker @bebepac @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choicesmonthlychallenge @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @karahalloway @kat-tia801 @lovingchoices14 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @peonierose @queenrileyrose @quixoticdreamer16 @sfb123 @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @zaffrenotes

[drwilfredwaterson]

March 18th, 2024 Update: 2024 U.S. Presidential Election, U.S. Constitution, Human Rights, Civil Rights, Women's Rights, The Survival of American Democracy and the American Republic, and Easter 2024. Part 3/6: Rachel, Nevada. Chapter 1/2: The MAGA Cult Messiah - The Incestuous Pedophile Groomer, Adulterer, and Serial Rapist - "The Sheep and The Wolf Are Not Agreed Upon A Definition of The Word Liberty."

Earthquake: 2024-03-18 10:05:22 GMT+2 Jerusalem, Israel, 01:05:22 PDT Local Time Rachel, Nevada

3/18/2024: Fibonacci Sequence: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89…

Revelation 10:5 Then the angel I had seen standing on the sea and on the land raised his right hand to heaven. Revelation 10:6 And he swore by him who lives for ever and ever, who created the heavens and all that is in them, the earth and all that is in it, and the sea and all that is in it, and said, “There will be no more delay! Revelation 10:7 But in the days when the seventh angel is about to sound his trumpet, the mystery of God will be accomplished, just as he announced to his servants the prophets.”

John 1:5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Colossians 1:3 We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, Colossians 1:4 because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all God’s people— Colossians 1:5 the faith and love that spring from the hope stored up for you in heaven and about which you have already heard in the true message of the gospel Colossians 1:6 that has come to you. In the same way, the gospel is bearing fruit and growing throughout the whole world—just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and truly understood God’s grace.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1611: Proverbs 8:5 O simple ones, learn shrewdness; O dullards, instruct your minds.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1019: Jeremiah 5:21 Hear this, O foolish people, Devoid of intelligence, That have eyes but can't see, That have ears but can't hear! Jeremiah 5:22 Should you not revere Me--says the Lord--Should you not tremble before Me, Who set the sand as a boundary to the sea, As a limit for all time, not to be transgressed? Though its waves toss, they cannot prevail; Though they roar, they cannot pass it. Jeremiah 5:23 Yet this people has a wayward and defiant heart; They have turned aside and gone their way. Jeremiah 5:24 they have not said to themselves, "Let us revere the Lord our God, Who gives the rain, The early and late rain in season, Who keeps for out benefit The weeks appointed for harves." Jeremiah 5:25 It is your iniquities that have diverted these things, Your sins that have withheld the bounty from you. Jeremiah 5:26 For among My people are found wicked men, Who lurk, like fowlers lying in wait: They set up a trap to catch men.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1606: Proverbs 5:22 The wicked man will be trapped in his iniquities; He will be caught up in the ropes of his sin. Proverbs 5:23 He will die for lack of discipline, Infatuated by his great folly.

Galatians 5:22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, Galatians 5:23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

1 Thessalonians 5:22 Stay away from every kind of evil.

Strong's Concordance #57 abel: From 'abal; lamenting, mourning Original Word: אָבֵל

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 924: Isaiah 35:3 Strengthen the hands that are slack; Make firm the tottering knees! Isaiah 35:4 Say to the anxious of heart, "Be strong, fear not; Behold your God! requital is coming, the recompense of God--He Himself is coming to give you triumph." Isaiah 35:5 Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, And the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Isaiah 35:6 then the lame shall leap like a deer, And the tongue of the dumb shall shout aloud; For waters shall burst forth in the desert, Streams in the wilderness. Isaiah 35:7 Torrid earth shall become a pool; Parched land, fountains of water.

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 121: Exodus 5:6 That same day Pharaoh charged the taskmasters and foremen of the people, saying, Exodus 5:7 "You shall no longer provide the people with straw for making bricks as heretofore; let them go and gather straw for themselves. Exodus 5:8 But impose upon them the same quota of bricks as they have been making heretofore; do not reduce it, for they are shirkers; that is why they cry, 'Let us go and sacrifice to our God!' Exodus 5:9 Let heavier work be laid upon the men; let them keep at it and not pay attention to deceitful promises."

Earthquake: M 0.1 - 57 km (35.4 mi) SW of Rachel, Nevada

2024-03-18 08:05:22 (UTC) 37.258°N 116.168°W 5.6 km depth

Overlooking Mouse Meadow and Aqueduct Mesa.

Rachel: "ewe/female sheep"

“If freedom of speech is taken away, then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.” ― George Washington

“Democracy must be something more than two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner.” ― James Bovard, Lost Rights: The Destruction of American Liberty

The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep’s throat, for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as a liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty, especially as the sheep was a black one. Plainly the sheep and the wolf are not agreed upon a definition of the word liberty.” ― Abraham Lincoln

Matthew 10:16 “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves. Matthew 10:17 Be on your guard; you will be handed over to the local councils and be flogged in the synagogues.“I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves. Matthew 10:18 On my account you will be brought before governors and kings as witnesses to them and to the Gentiles. Matthew 10:19 But when they arrest you, do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say, Matthew 10:20 for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

On April 25th, 2024, the Unconstitutional and Criminal MAGA Insurrectionist SCOTUS Injustices Will Hear Arguments Favoring PERMANENT IMMUNITY From Criminal and Civil Prosecution for Slimy Rabid Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper.

Unless 38 American states vote to terminate Section 3 of the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution for the known purpose of permanently destroying the U.S. Constitution, American democracy, and the American republic by installing connie j. chump as Dictator/Divine King For Life BEFORE November 5th, 2024, connie j. chump has exactly, and will only ever have, ZERO legally countable and certifiable votes for the 2024 presidential election; and the six unconstitutional, illegal, and criminal MAGA insurrectionist injustices will be impeached beginning as soon as January 3rd, 2025; and so connie j. chump's very real legal situation is that he will be tried either before or after the 2024 presidential election, convicted, sentenced, and he'll end his miserable, low-life, slimy, pathetic, disgusting, crooked and worthless life in prison beginning either in 2025 or 2026. He and all of his anti-American "Republican"/MAGA co-conspirators are so unintelligent, uneducated, simple-minded, dull, and incompetent that NONE of their best laid plans were grounded in reality or law; and so now connie j. chump's fate is inescapable and certain.

It's important to lay the foundation of why I'm including this massive text wall in this post. The current, living generations of American women and girls are in the position where since the early to mid-1960s, American females of all ages are finally free to have hopes and dreams for themselves; grandmothers, and even some lucky greatgrandmothers, finally have hope for their daughters, granddaughters, and greatgranddaughters to chase and live out their hopes and dreams in ways no other women in American history could FREELY do; but for the anti-American, anti-female, rapist Republican/MAGA Nazi cult, THAT's one of the key reasons "America is in a state of great decline like never before seen in American history." No American should have eternal domestic slavery, incest, rape, and forced breeding forced upon them by literally completely worthless anti-American TRASH like connie j. chump and his "Republican"/MAGA Nazi rape cult. All Americans and the United States of America deserve and are worthy of far better than anything the deranged, crooked, lawless, incestuous, and slimy rapist filth of the "Republican"/MAGA Nazi rape cult is attempting to perpetrate upon Americans and our already great, and growing greater by the day, nation.

In a 1998 interview with Chris Matthews, two years before his 2000 presidential campaign, trump said that his history with women could prove to be an issue in the event of a future presidential campaign, saying "Can you imagine how controversial I'd be?… How about me with the women? Can you imagine?" (Wikipedia)

Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper (2005) "I moved on her, and I failed. I'll admit it. I did try and f**k her. She was married. And I moved on her very heavily. In fact, I took her out furniture shopping. She wanted to get some furniture. I said, "I'll show you where they have some nice furniture." I took her out furniture—I moved on her like a bch. But I couldn't get there. And she was married. Then all of a sudden I see her, she's now got the big phony t*ts and everything. She's totally changed her look. I better use some Tic Tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know I'm automatically attracted to beautiful—I just start kissing them. It's like a magnet. Just kiss. I don't even wait. And when you're a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab 'em by the p****y. You can do anything." (Access Hollywood)

Pageant dressing room visits Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper owned the Miss Universe franchise, which includes Miss USA and Miss Teen USA, from 1996 to 2015. In a Howard Stern interview in 2005, he said he made a practice of walking into the contestants' dressing rooms unannounced while the women were undressed: "I'll go backstage before a show, and everyone's getting dressed and ready and everything else. …You know, no men are anywhere. And I'm allowed to go in because I'm the owner of the pageant. And therefore I'm inspecting it. … Is everyone OK? You know, they're standing there with no clothes. And you see these incredible-looking women. And so I sort of get away with things like that. But no, I've been very good." In that interview, trump declined to say whether he had slept with any contestants, saying, "It could be a conflict of interest". Stern then imitated a foreign contestant ("Mr. trump, in my country, we say hello with vagina"), and trump jokingly responded, "Well, you could also say, as the owner of the pageant, it's your obligation to do that." (Wikipedia)

Miss Teen USA contestants (1997) Mariah Billado, Miss Vermont Teen USA, is one of five women to mention such a dressing room visit incident in 1997. Billado said of the visit: "I remember putting on my dress really quick, because I was like, 'Oh my god, there's a man in here.' trump, she recalled, said something like, 'Don't worry, ladies, I've seen it all before.'" Billado recalled talking to ivanka, trump's daughter, who responded "Yeah, he does that." Victoria Hughes, Miss New Mexico Teen USA, also said trump did conduct a dressing room visit, and that the youngest contestant there was 15. (Wikipedia)

Bridget Sullivan (2000) In 2000, Bridget Sullivan was Miss New Hampshire USA. As she prepared for a television broadcast, trump allegedly walked into the dressing room. She told BuzzFeed he was coming to wish the contestants good luck, but they "were all naked". (Wikipedia)

Tasha Dixon (2001) Tasha Dixon, Miss Arizona USA 2001, told a CBS affiliate in Los Angeles that in 2001, "[trump] just came strolling right in. There was no second to put a robe on or any sort of clothing or anything. Some girls were topless, other girls were naked." She said that having been walked in on when the women had little or no clothes put them in a "very physically vulnerable position, and then to have the pressure of the people that work for him telling us to go fawn all over him, go walk up to him, talk to him …" (Wikipedia)

Samantha Holvey (2006) On October 14, 2016, Samantha Carol Holvey, Miss North Carolina USA 2006, related that "trump's conduct was 'creepy' around the women participating but he never made an advance toward her." She also said that before pageant events, trump had "moved into areas where she and other contestants were getting ready", and that she had "never been around men that were like that". More than a year after trump was elected president, and after many high-profile men, such as Harvey Weinstein, had lost their jobs because of sexual harassment allegations, Holvey wrote: "You can't work in Hollywood if you're a sexual predator, but you can become the commander-in-chief?" She then related how trump made her feel very uncomfortable at the 2006 Miss USA pageant: "He eyed me like a piece of meat. I was shocked and disgusted. I have never felt so objectified. I left the meet-and-greet hoping that this would be my one and only encounter with him." She also described how he had come backstage unannounced, with melania trump: "I was shocked—again—by this violation of our personal space. What was he doing, coming backstage when we were still getting dressed?" (Wikipedia)

Allegations of underage sex parties (Exactly like what happened to Stormy Daniels) On October 25, 2016, allegations were made by two men stating that Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper had attended and partaken in sex parties filled with underage minor females as young as 15 years old who were induced with promises of career advancement. Illegal drugs were also alleged to have been provided to the minors. One man was identified as model and actor Andy Lucchesi, while the other was identified as a fashion photographer who spoke on condition of anonymity. Both men claim to have been acquaintances of trump during that decade, which one described as his "trump days". The anonymous witness said trump had sex with the girls, going from room to room, saying "[trump would] wander off with a couple girls. I saw him. He was getting laid like crazy. trump was at the heart of it. He loved the attention and in private, he was a total f*cking beast." He claimed the parties were attended by minors as young as 15 years of age, adding "I was there [only] to party myself. It was [other] guys with younger girls, sex, a lot of sex, a lot of cocaine, top-shelf liquor." Lucchesi, for his part, claimed that he saw trump engage in sexual activity with the girls but did not witness him taking illicit drugs. In regards to the age of the girls, Lucchesi said he himself never specifically asked about their ages, only remarking of the attendees "a lot of girls, [aged] 14, look 24." (Wikipedia)

Jessica Leeds (1980s) In the early 1980s, Leeds was a businesswoman at a paper company on a flight from the Midwest, returning to New York. A flight attendant offered her an empty seat in the first-class cabin next to trump. Leeds alleged that about 45 minutes after takeoff, Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper lifted the armrest and began touching her, grabbing her breasts, and tried to put his hand up her skirt. "He was like an octopus," she said. "His hands were everywhere. It was an assault." Leeds said she had sent a letter containing her allegations to the editor of The New York Times. Her story was printed by The New York Times in October 2016, along with the account from Rachel Crooks. (Wikipedia)

Jill Harth (1992) Jill Harth alleged that Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper assaulted her several times. Harth has stated that in December 1992, while dining with trump and her then-boyfriend George Houraney, trump attempted to put his hands between her legs. Harth and Houraney visited trump's Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida in January 1993 for a contract-signing celebration. trump, according to Harth, offered her a tour before pulling her into the empty bedroom of his daughter ivanka. "I was admiring the decoration, and next thing I know he's pushing me against a wall and has his hands all over me. He was trying to kiss me. I was freaking out." Harth says she desperately protested against trump's advances and eventually managed to run out of the room. She and her boyfriend left rather than stay the night, as they had intended. After she became engaged, Harth alleges, trump began to stalk her. (Wikipedia)

Katie Johnson (1994) Doe v. trump (2016) (1:16-cv-07673-RA) was a case filed by an unnamed person against Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper and Jeffrey Epstein accusing them of child rape related to underage sex parties at Epstein's residence in Manhattan in 1994, four of which donald trump allegedly attended. Katie Johnson v. donald J. trump and Jeffrey E. Epstein (2016) (5:16-cv-00797-DMG-KS) was another case where Katie Johnson accused the pair of forcibly raping three 12 and 13 year old girls at underage sex parties at Epstein's Manhattan residence in 1994. The first suit was filed in federal court in April 2016 by Katie Johnson, which was dismissed the following month by a judge who ruled that the suit didn’t raise valid claims under federal law. Another version of the lawsuit was filed in June, but subsequently withdrawn. The lawsuit was refiled in September 2016, but was "voluntarily" withdrawn by the plaintiff in November 2016 after she had received death threats. (Wikipedia)

Cathy Heller (1997) On October 15, 2016, The Guardian reported an allegation by Cathy Heller that she was grabbed and kissed by Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper two decades earlier. Heller said that, in 1997, she met trump when she attended a Mother's Day brunch with her children, her husband, and her husband's parents at his Mar-a-Lago estate. Her parents-in-law were members of Mar-a-Lago. Heller was introduced to trump, who became angry when she avoided a kiss. He then "grabbed" her and, when he tried to kiss her, she turned her head. trump kissed her on the side of the mouth "for a little too long" and then he left her. Heller's husband and children, who were present during the event, have corroborated her account. In the summer of 2015, the members of Heller's mahjong group heard Heller's account of the 1997 incident. (Wikipedia)

Temple Taggart McDowell (1997) In May 2016, The New York Times reported allegations by Temple Taggart McDowell. McDowell, who was Miss Utah USA in 1997, accused Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper of unwanted kisses and embraces that left McDowell and one of her chaperones so uncomfortable, according to McDowell, that she claimed she was instructed not to be left in a room alone with him again. According to McDowell, a chaperone had accompanied her to trump's office. At the time, McDowell was 21 and was known as Temple Taggart. This incident occurred in trump's first year of ownership of the Miss USA contest. McDowell told her story initially to The New York Times in May 2016 which was published in the "Crossing the Line: How donald trump Behaved With Women in Private" article. She had not intended to speak publicly about the incidents again, but she received numerous calls recently due to the "Crossing the Line" article and felt, as a mother, that it is important to share a message about unwanted advances: "You have the right to say no. You have the right to get out of there. You have the right to leave, and you have the right to make them feel uncomfortable if they're making you feel uncomfortable," she said. (Wikipedia)

Amy Dorris (1997) Former model Amy Dorris said in September 2020 that she and her boyfriend, Jason Binn, attended the 1997 U.S. Open with donald trump, who Binn had described as his best friend. She alleges that Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper groped and kissed her without her consent at the event. The Guardian confirmed that she told her mother and a friend in New York immediately after the incident and that she had told her therapist and several other friends about it over the years. (Wikipedia)

Karena Virginia (1998) At an October 2016 press conference with attorney Gloria Allred, yoga instructor and life coach Karena Virginia said that in 1998 Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper grabbed her arm and touched her breast. Virginia, who was 27 years old at the time, was waiting for a ride after the US Open in Queens, New York. She said trump, whom she had not met previously, approached her with a small group of other men, while commenting on her legs, then he grabbed her right arm. Virginia continued, "Then his hand touched the right side of my breast. I was in shock. I flinched. 'Don't you know who I am? Don't you know who I am?'—that's what he said to me. I felt intimidated and I felt powerless." (Wikipedia)

Karen Johnson (early 2000s) In Barry Levine and Monique El-Faizy's book All the President's Women: donald trump and the Making of a Predator, Karen Johnson alleged that she attended a New Year's Eve party at Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper's Mar-a-Lago estate, where trump grabbed her by her genitals, pulled her behind a tapestry, and forcibly kissed her. Johnson also alleged that days after the incident, trump repeatedly called her (without her giving him the phone number), offering to fly her to meet him, which she rejected. (Wikipedia)

Mindy McGillivray (2003) In an October 2016 article by The Palm Beach Post, Mindy McGillivray stated that in January 2003, when she was 23 years old, she was groped by Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper at his Mar-a-Lago estate. She said, "All of a sudden I felt a grab, a little nudge. I think it's [my friend Ken Davidoff's] camera bag, that was my first instinct. I turn around and there's donald. He sort of looked away quickly." Ken Davidoff, a photographer, corroborated McGillivray's account, saying he remembered her pulling him aside moments after the alleged incident to say "donald just grabbed my ass!" McGillivray said she "chose to stay quiet" and never reported the incident to authorities. She had shared details of the incident only with close family and friends until she heard trump deny such behavior during the second presidential debate on October 9, 2016. (Wikipedia)

Rachel Crooks (2005) In 2005, Rachel Crooks was a 22-year-old receptionist at Bayrock Group, a real estate investment and development company in trump Tower in Manhattan. She says she encountered Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper in an elevator in the building one morning and turned to introduce herself. They shook hands, but trump would not let go. Instead, he began kissing her cheeks, then directly on the mouth. "It was so inappropriate," Crooks recalled in an interview. "I was so upset that he thought I was so insignificant that he could do that." Her story was printed by The New York Times in October 2016, along with that of Jessica Leeds. (Wikipedia)

Natasha Stoynoff (2005) Canadian author and journalist Natasha Stoynoff, who wrote for People magazine and, previously, the Toronto Star and Toronto Sun, went to Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper's Florida estate in December 2005 to interview him and his wife, Melania. While there, trump gave Stoynoff a tour of the Mar-a-Lago estate. She says that during this tour, he pushed her against a wall and forced his tongue into her mouth.Stoynoff described the alleged episode, "We walked into that room alone, and trump shut the door behind us. I turned around, and within seconds he was pushing me against the wall and forcing his tongue down my throat … I was stunned. And I was grateful when trump's longtime butler burst into the room a minute later, as I tried to unpin myself." Stoynoff composed herself and conducted the interview, after which she said trump repeatedly told her, "We're going to have an affair, I'm telling you." (Wikipedia)

Jessica Drake (2006) On October 22, 2016, Jessica Drake and attorney Gloria Allred held a news conference in which Drake accused Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper of having sexually assaulted her by grabbing tightly in a hug and kissed her and two acquaintances nearly ten years prior. Drake, an adult film actress and sex education advocate, said she met trump at her company's booth during a charity golf tournament at Lake Tahoe in 2006. Drake claims she was invited to meet with trump, who was married at the time, at his hotel suite; she was "uncomfortable going alone" and brought two friends. Describing the meeting with trump, Drake recounted that "He grabbed each of us tightly, in a hug and kissed each one of us without asking permission." Drake said she and her friends left the suite after 30–45 minutes. Shortly thereafter, Drake claims she received phone calls from trump or his associate, requesting that she join him in his suite for $10,000, and offering to fly her on his jet back to Los Angeles. She said she declined his offers. (Wikipedia)

Ninni Laaksonen (2006) On October 27, 2016, a local Finnish tabloid, Ilta-Sanomat, reported an allegation by Ninni Laaksonen, Miss Finland 2006. Laaksonen appeared with Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper on the Late Show with David Letterman on July 26, 2006. Laaksonen claims that before they went on the air, trump grabbed her buttocks. As Laaksonen describes the interaction: "He really grabbed my butt. I don't think anybody saw it but I flinched and thought: "What is happening?" Someone later told Laaksonen that trump liked her because she looked like his wife, Melania, when she was younger. (Wikipedia)

Summer Zervos (2007) Summer Zervos was a contestant on the fifth season of The Apprentice, which filmed in 2005 and aired in 2006. Subsequently, she contacted trump in 2007, about a job after the show's completion, and he invited her to meet him at The Beverly Hills Hotel. Zervos has said that Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper was sexually suggestive during their meeting, kissing her open-mouthed, groping her breasts, and thrusting his genitals on her. She also has said that his behavior was aggressive and not consensual. Zervos was represented by attorney Gloria Allred, and later by Beth Wilkinson and Moira Penza, with whom she chose to end the case in 2021. (Wikipedia)

Cassandra Searles (2013) In October 2016, Rolling Stone and NPR reported Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper fondled Cassandra Searles, Miss Washington USA of 2013, without her consent during the Miss USA pageant of that year. In June 2016, Searles wrote that trump invited her to his hotel room. Yahoo!News published an article in June 2016 stating that Searles had made Facebook postings that accused trump of making unwanted advances. She said he was "continually" groping her buttocks and had asked her to go "to his hotel room". Searles also asserted that trump had "treated us like cattle". (Wikipedia)

trump defends ‘Access Hollywood’ comments: ‘Historically, that’s true with stars’ by Jared Gans - 05/05/23 4:45 PM ET Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper, during his deposition over writer E. Jean Carroll’s lawsuit, defended the comments he made on the infamous “Access Hollywood” tape that emerged ahead of the 2016 presidential election. Video of the deposition was shown to jurors earlier this week in the case stemming from Carroll’s claim that trump raped her in the mid-1990s. The footage was released publicly Friday. The clip of trump shows Carroll’s lawyer questioning him about the tape from 2005, in which trump discussed grabbing women sexually without their consent. “I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything,” he said at the time. “Grab ’em by the p—-.” trump said after the video was released in October 2016 that he was not endorsing sexual assault and was engaging in “locker room talk.” trump defended the validity of his remarks in his deposition for the Carroll case. “Well, historically, that’s true with stars,” he said. “If you look over the last million years, I guess that’s been largely true,” he continued. “Not always but largely true. Unfortunately or fortunately.” https://thehill.com/regulation/court-battles/3990841-trump-defends-access-hollywood-comments-historically-thats-true-with-stars/

Rabid Slimy Low-Life Deranged Dishonest donnie j. Dumpster Diaper raped E. Jean Carroll even though he was found liable only for 'sexual abuse,' judge rules. Caroll's lawsuit alleged that, in the mid-1990s, trump raped her in the Bergdorf Goodman department store in Manhattan. She said that trump pushed her against the wall of a dressing room, inserted his fingers into her vagina, and then, she believes, put his penis into her. "The finding that Ms. Carroll failed to prove that she was 'raped' within the meaning of the New York Penal Law does not mean that she failed to prove that Mr. trump 'raped' her as many people commonly understand the word 'rape,'" Kaplan wrote. "Indeed, as the evidence at trial recounted below makes clear, the jury found that Mr. trump in fact did exactly that." https://www.businessinsider.com/donald-trump-rape-e-jean-carroll-sexual-abuse-jury-judge-2023-7

[bookoformon]

3 Nephi, Chapter 5, Part 1. "Evaporation."

FINALLY a clue about the Short Plates. We don't know what is on them yet, but we now know there are cues in the Book of Mormon as to their clear delineation.

This is an important opportunity for church and its pilgrims as it means one can also firmly identify the Apostles and Quorum of the Seventy are not prophets, seers, and revelators, and have done naught but lead the Church astray. This is easily fixed, and is a duty that cannot be ignored.

The Nephites repent and forsake their sins—Mormon writes the history of his people and declares the everlasting word to them—Israel will be gathered in from her long dispersion. About A.D. 22–26= 358, gaah, "pride."

1 And now behold, there was not a living soul among all the people of the Nephites who did doubt in the least the words of all the holy prophets who had spoken; for they knew that it must needs be that they must be fulfilled.

2 And they knew that it must be expedient that Christ had come, because of the many signs which had been given, according to the words of the prophets; and because of the things which had come to pass already they knew that it must needs be that all things should come to pass according to that which had been spoken.

3 Therefore they did forsake all their sins, and their abominations, and their whoredoms, and did serve God with all diligence day and night.

4 And now it came to pass that when they had taken all the robbers prisoners, insomuch that none did escape who were not slain, they did cast their prisoners into prison, and did cause the word of God to be preached unto them; and as many as would repent of their sins and enter into a that they would murder no more were set at liberty.

5 But as many as there were who did not enter into a covenant, and who did still continue to have those secret murders in their hearts, yea, as many as were found breathing out threatenings against their brethren were condemned and punished according to the law.

6 And thus they did put an end to all those wicked, and secret, and abominable combinations, in the which there was so much wickedness, and so many murders committed.

7 And thus had the twenty and second year passed away, and the twenty and third year also, and the twenty and fourth, and the twenty and fifth; and thus had twenty and five years passed away.

8 And there had many things transpired which, in the eyes of some, would be great and marvelous; nevertheless, they cannot all be written in this book; yea, this book cannot contain even a hundredth part of what was done among so many people in the space of twenty and five years;

9 But behold there are records which do contain all the proceedings of this people; and a shorter but true account was given by Nephi.

10 Therefore I have made my record of these things according to the record of Nephi, which was engraven on the plates which were called the plates of Nephi.

First, a Mormon "A myrrh-man" means in Hebrew "The Pillar of the Fire of the Words of Moses." Mor also refers to the Bride at the Wedding who the Jews call Shabbat, the Sabbath Day.

Mor= מר (mor), meaning myrrh. The name Miriam could be construed as a regular plural form, which thus means Myrrhs or rather Wedding Nights.

Mon=the embodiment of logos or knowledge,

"The familiar adjective μονος (monos) means alone, which is of course a horrible word since our human existence is one of interaction and the exchange of goods, services and ideas.

From the words we speak to the technology we use our identity derives largely from the socio-organism we are part of. Convention, which is the agreement on methods of expression, allows people to link their minds like a radio telescope, which is why the word ιδιωτης (idiotes), meaning "in a category of their own" has its derogatory ring.

Long before the fall of man caused the whole of creation to go awry, the Creator noted that there was something "not good" about his paradisiacal creation: It's not good that the man is alone (Genesis 2:18).

And so he created Woman, which improved things right along. This Woman, of course, was Eve, who was the "mother of all life" (Genesis 3:20) and the word for mother (אמ, 'am) also means people or society, which is why Eve is the biosphere and not some naked lady of old.

The story that follows the account of Adam and Eve progresses along a complexity axis rather than a temporal one, and in Noah the animal-human symmetry breaks (for the most part; Psalm 73:22, Ecclesiastes 3:18, 2 PETER 2:12, JUDE 1:10). Arch-father Abraham is not only the father of all believers, he's also the embodiment of international trade. His final descendant, Jesus, embodies the Word, which is the whole of natural law upon which the whole of creation operates (COLOSSIANS 1:16-17).

This sounds rather boring but the embodiment of the Logos is as alive and aware and the embodiment of your own DNA (and then some). A humanity that is the embodiment of the Logos of creation is first of all a precise reflection of the Creator (HEBREWS 1:2-3), and secondly governed by nothing but divine freedom (REVELATION 21:22-23).

Also note that our word μονος (monos) has to do with our word "monarch" and that the Latin equivalent, namely solo has to do with the word for sun: sol. The Greek word for sun is ηλιος (helios), and when we truncate that we get Ηλ (El), or אל ('el), the Hebrew word for God.

In our article on the Greek word κεφαλη (kephale), meaning head or skull, we note that the head is the seat of one's attention and as mobile as the moon. One's most intimate convictions, on the other hand, comprise one's sun, and other people are like the stars."

The Values in Gematria pertinent to this section are found in verses 7 and 10:

v. 7: the Value in Gematria is 15948, י״הטדח‎, "the hammer."

Would you rather be a hammer or a nail?

"On one hand, a nail is useless without a hammer. However, together they build something sturdy. With the hammer’s influence, the nail is guided into its rightful place and will continue to serve its purpose, long after the hammer is gone, holding the piece together.

Without the nail, the hammer would be miserably locked up in its tool box, accomplishing nothing. With nails, it can build many wonderful things.

In the end, a hammer is useless without a nail and vice versa."

This section has a strong call to action for political integrity. Of which America has none due to the interferences of religions which also have no foothold in anything that is pure. The Gematria for Verse 10 explains what can be done about this:

v. 10: the Value in Gematria is 8946, ח‎טדו‎‎, htado, "evaporate"= Manasseh:

Verb נשא (nasa') describes an upward motion, generally of something that is being pulled up and out so as to remove it. This verb occurs very often and can usually be translated with (1) to lift or lift up, (2) to bear or carry, and (3) to take or take away.

An identical verb (or rather the same one used in a specialized way) means to loan on interest. The practice of loaning on interest causes the principal sum to slowly but surely evaporate and was prohibited under Mosaic law. A third identical verb (or again the same one) means to deceive or beguile.

Noun משאת (mas'et) reflects all nuances of the parent verb: uprising (of smoke), uplifting (of hands), utterance (of an oracle), a burden or that what's carried. Noun נשיא (nasi') describes a lifted-up one, i.e. (1) a captain or chief, or (2) a mist or vapor. Note this keenly observed connection between paying interest and being formally governed.

Noun משאה (massa'a), describes clouds. It's spelled the same as the noun משאה (mashsha'a), a loan. (It's also spelled the same as משאה, mesho'a, ruin or desolation, from the whole other verb שוא, shw'). Noun משא (mashsha) means a lending on interest. Noun משאון (mashsha'on) means guile. Plural noun משואות (mashshu'ot) means deceptions.

Noun משא (massa') means (1) a load or burden, or (2) utterance or oracle. Noun שיא (si') means loftiness or pride. Noun שאת (se'et) means dignity, swelling or outburst, a rising-up. This noun is spelled the same as שאת (she't), ruin or devastation, from the verb שאה (sha'a), to be noisy or ruinous.

נשה

The verb נשה (nasha) is a specialized form of the previous. It either means to lend on interest or to forget, or rather to have a memory slowly evaporate away. Noun נשיה (neshiya) means forgetfulness or oblivion. Noun נשי (neshi) means debt. Noun משה (mashshe) means loan, and is spelled identical to the following.

משה

Verb משה (masha) means to draw or draw out, and appears to specifically describe a drawing out of waters: to extract from water.

Every human being has something pure that can be exposed, distilled down once his wickedness is exposed to the Light. This idea is the one behind the concept of the Mormon, which means "to distill to the Balsam of God", the Words of Moses.

Through the gradual incorporation of the true words of the scripture and the boiling off of the false dogmas, the Balsam, the pure soul is found and a saint is made.

[feministdragon]

Continuing the summary of chapter two of The Dawn of Everything, “Wicked Liberty—The indigenous critique and the myth of progress”. 

>>p45-48

In political terms the French and the indigenous Americans were arguing, not about equality, but about freedom. The only time the concept of equality comes up in the 71 volumes of the Jesuit books about their travels in North America is in a story about alcoholic beverages.  ‘From the beginning of the world to the coming of the French, the Savages have never know what it was so solemnly to forbid anything to their people, under any penalty, however slight.  They are free people, each of whom considers himself of as much consequence as the others; and they submit to their chiefs only in so far as it pleases them.”

Here equality is a direct extension of freedom, and has almost nothing in common with the more familiar (Eurasian) idea of ‘equality before the law’, which is ultimately, ‘equality before the sovereign’.   Americans were free to obey or disobey orders as they saw fit.  And so, if you couldn’t force people, then social coherence had to be created, through reasoned debate, persuasive arguments and the establishment of a social consensus. 

The Enlightenment is considered the height of development of Reason, or open and rational debate.  The Jesuits, the bookish nerds of Christianity, had learned Native American languages in order to persuade them of the superiority of the Christian faith.  But they regularly found themselves startled and impressed by the quality of the counterarguments they had to deal with. The Jesuits attributed this to the fact that so much public communication happened within the communities of the Americans. “The councils, held almost every day in the Villages, on almost all matters, improve their capacity for talking.” “[I have not before experienced such a] clearsightedness in public affairs, a more discreet management of things.”  “They show more intelligence in their business, speeches, courtesies, intercourse, tricks and subtleties, than do the shrewdest citizens and merchants in France.”

The Jesuits recognised an intrinsic relationship between refusal of arbitrary power, open and inclusive political debate and a taste for reasoned argument. 

However persuasive speech doesn’t necessarily have to depend on reason.  It could also depend on appeals to sentiment, whipping up passion, poetic metaphors, appealing to myth, use of irony, humor insult, or prophesy.  All this depends on the rhetorical tradition of the culture to which you belong.  In the case of the Iriquoian speakers like the Wendat or the Haudenosaunee to the south, they prioritised reasoned, and found it a kind of entertainment in its own right.    And this had major historical repercussions for Europe, because it was exactly this form of debate—rational, sceptical, empirical, conversational in tone—that became important in the European Enlightenment. And like the Jesuits, Enlightenment thinkers and democratic revolutionaries saw it as intrinsically connected with the rejection of arbitrary authority, especially religious authority.

Summary of this book's ideas so far: In the mid 17th century, European thinkers started playing with an idea of an original egalitarian State of Nature, a default state shared by societies they saw as lacking government, writing, religion, or private property. These European thinkers had just started using terms like ‘equality’ and ‘inequality’.  At around the same time, information started reaching them about the inhabitants of Northeast Woodlands societies in N. America, what are now Nova Scotia and Quebec, about how they conducted their lives, and a dialogue began.

At first neither side talked about ‘equality’.  Instead their concerns were about liberty and mutual aid, or what now might be termed freedom and communism—meaning communal ownership, particularly of productive resources.  Many North American societies could be considered somewhat communitarian.  Women owned and worked the fields individually, but they stored and disposed of the products collectively.  Men owned their own tools and weapons individually, but they typically shared out the game and spoils. 

However, another way to define communism—not as a property regime, but in its original sense—is ‘from each according to their abilities, to each according to their needs.”  A baseline communism occurs in all societies, it's kind of what makes something a society instead of a collection of individuals.  There’s a feeling that if another person’s needs are great enough, for instance if they are drowning, and the cost of meeting them is modest enough, for instance throwing them a rope, then of course any decent person would comply.   You might even help your bitterest enemy in this way.  The question is just how far this baseline communism, or basic help, should be extended.  In North American societies in the 17th century, it would have been inconceivable to refuse a request for food.   For 17th century Frenchmen in North America, their baseline communism did not extend to food or shelter, something which scandalized Americans.   

But just as here there were two very different conceptions of equality, here there were also two very concepts of individualism.  Europeans were always squabbling for advantage, like a pack of dogs always looking for the opportunity to rise in the ranks.   Northeast Woodlands societies guaranteed one another the means to an autonomous life. Everything operated to ensure that no one’s will was subjugated to anyone else’s.  Their communism existed not in opposition to but in support of individual freedom.  

It was as Europeans began to consider what it would mean to translate American ideals of individual liberty in to their own societies that the term ‘equality’ began to gain ground. 

[dame-nervy]

Gladers are WCKD [Reader Insert] Masterlist

Wicked is good. The original story dictates that the Gladers don’t believe that, but in this story we find that not only do they believe it, they enforce it. Set in an alternate time line where the Gladers work for Wicked, and the Reader, the Right Arm, and Group B are fighting against them in hopes to changing the fate of their dying world.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 -

[Disclaimer: may involve swearing, fighting, running, blood, dying, torture, love?, and other things I haven’t yet decided. I will put warnings at the beginning of chapters for anything too graphic]

[Disclaimer #2: Reader is heavily written as female. Referred to as; she, daughter, girl, etc.]

Obviously none of this is gonna be remotely canon -to the books or movies- and since I’ve only seen the Maze Runner movies, all non-movie characters and such are going to be based on wiki and other fanfics. There will also be a lot of OOC, so don’t hate, you’ve been warned.

I’ve taken extreme creative liberties in this story, so here’s a badly drawn world map.

A - The Last City

B - The Outskirts - outside the last city;

- (Pink) Marcus’ place

- (Orange) R.A. hideout

C - the Plantation

D - Dead Head Mountain

E - The Cliff (where the glader’s live/hide out, part of the city but impossible to get to by normal means)

F - WCKD compound,

G - The Dead Lands - the areas around the outskirts that is mostly desert

- (Orange) R.A. hideout

H - road to Blockade - mostly just a crank pit that makes it impossible to get to the Outskirts by road without getting infected/killed.

Full Masterlist

Note: I still don’t know how to hashtag anything.

[betweensceneswriter]

Island Hopper-Chapter 28b: Just Add Water Part 2

Shots and the ‘Shungle’

Previously on Island Hopper:  Chapter 28: Just Add Water Some things are instant.  Not usually sons.

ISLAND FEVER (Jimjeran Book 1)

ISLAND HOPPER (Jimjeran Book 2)

FanFic Master List

 The days blended into one another after that.  Mornings began with waking a reluctant child to give him his long-acting insulin.  Jamie started taking Perkaj into the stall with him after I was done with my shower, washing Perkaj’s hair, wrapping him in a towel and sending him in to me.  While they were out of the apartment I would rush into my own clothing. On Perkaj’s arrival back in the apartment I would dry him off, brush his hair, and give him a little privacy while he dressed.  

He was amused by the bustle and pace of our household.  If we ever tried to rush him, he would respond after a deep sigh, “Oh, Mama Peach, I am lazy,” or “Oh, Baba Shamie, I am lazy.”  Jamie assured me that ‘lazy’ didn’t have the same negative connotation in Majel, but it still made me laugh every time Perkaj said it.

Perkaj was also surprised by how often we bathed, but after a few days Jamie said the boy had started to industriously scrub his skin with a washcloth and soap while Jamie washed his hair.

Breakfast was when he would test his blood sugar and give himself injections with an amount based on his level and how hungry he felt.  In the beginning he turned up his nose at the steel cut oats we would usually have for breakfast, but he was delighted by bread with honey or jelly and peanut butter.  Eventually with a sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar, we were able to coax him to eat the ‘porridge’ as well.

Jamie had to leave for school a few minutes early so he could drop Perkaj off at his house, or if he was running late I would take him. There the little boy would be fussed over by his family and then walk to school with his brothers and sisters.  His mother would pack him a lunch to be eaten at school, when he would check in with Jamie for testing and another dose of short-acting insulin before joining the other kids on the lawn for lunch & recess.

After school, Perkaj would come home with Jamie.  They would test his blood sugar to make sure it was high enough for play and family time and give him a snack if it was on the low side.  Most days of the week  Jamie would walk him the rest of the way to his house, returning to our apartment to do grading and planning for the next day.  Around six I would take my turn to travel to Perkaj’s house, supervise as Perkaj would prick one of his poor fingers again, and then the little guy and I would assess his dinner plate with his parents & auntie, talking about the insulin amount needed before eating.

At 7:30, one of Perkaj’s family members would walk him to our house where we would tuck him into bed with a story.  One more test and snack or insulin would finish his long, eventful day.  

After Perkaj headed to bed was when Jamie and I made sure to cuddle up to each other, having a little contact while reading or writing letters by the  warm light of the bedside lamp.  More  often than not one or the other of us would nod off accidentally and wake up only when the other person turned off the lamp. Jamie or I would rouse long enough to climb under the sheet and turn to the other for a goodnight kiss before we would drift back into slumber.  

Our life felt strange, broken up into little chunks like this-- repeated interruptions and moments of being apart when we would normally have been together. It wasn’t easy, but I steeled myself with the fact that there weren’t any other good options.  This—serving the health of the islanders—was why I was here; not marriage, not sex, not selfishness.

“Ijab konaan,” Perkaj cried, sitting at the table with his tester and insulin pen in front of him. “Emetak.” He rubbed his face with his hands, smearing the dust from an afternoon of active play into gray streaks on his skin.

Of course he didn’t want it.  Of course it hurt.

Jamie looked up at me, his eyes full of compassion and desperation.  We had to get Perkaj to buy in to his own health if we were ever going to get our own lives back.  

All of a sudden I had an idea.  I grabbed a syringe from my black medical kit and a vial of sterile saline.

“How many carbs are you going to eat, Meester Shamie?” I asked him. He eyed the syringe and then looked back at me, narrowed eyes giving way to a tiny smile of understanding.

He took a deep breath, looking at the soup and muffins on the table. “Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, “I  know I’m hungry, and I’m lukuun kilep, so I’ll have five servings… some noodle soup and three muffins. How about you, Miss Peachay?”

“Oh, I’m not very hungry,” I responded. “When it’s hot like this, ijab konaan moni, so I’ll have three.”

Without looking off to the side at Perkaj, I picked up the tester, a strip and a lancet. “I wonder what my blood sugar is right now,” I mused. I pricked my finger, the sudden shock of pain giving me shivers, then pressed the drop of blood to the testing strip. “Eighty-five,” I remarked.  “That’s good for before a meal.”

Jamie took the tester I offered him and did the same. He winced and stuck his finger in his mouth after he’d touched it to the testing strip. “Seventy-six? No wonder I’m starving!” He passed the tester on to Perkaj, who had grinned at Jamie’s over-the-top reaction to the prick of the lancet and blood on his finger.

“Okay,” I said. “Five servings means five units.”  I held the vial up as I inserted the syringe and drew out several milliliters of saline. Then I handed the syringe to Jamie.

Up until then he’d been playing along with me.  When I handed him the needle his face drained of color. His raised eyebrows communicated clearly, “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Perkaj had tested his sugar and was already clicking the units into his insulin pen.

“One for being little high,” he murmured to himself. “And tree for carbs.”  He screwed on the fresh needle tip and looked over at Jamie. “Why you waiting, Baba Shamie?”

Jamie frowned. “Ijab konaan,” he said, his eyes showing some genuine fear. “Enaj metak.”

Perkaj’s response was adorable.  He patted Jamie’s arm like I’d seen my husband do to him  countless times over the last few weeks. “Is okay, Baba,” he said reassuringly, shaking his head. “It not hurt forever.”

After that, there was no way Jamie was going to let his fear of pain stand in his way.  

“Let’s do it together,” he said.  “Will you count?”

“Juon, ruo, jilu,” Perkaj counted.  On ‘three’ both boys jabbed themselves with their needles and pressed down on the plungers.  They made faces at each other as they did, and when the syringe and insulin pen were returned to the table, Jamie pulled the little guy in for a hug.

“You’re so brave!” He exclaimed. Perkaj grinned and grabbed a muffin.

Out of necessity we discovered that about five minutes after Perkaj fell asleep he would be dead to the world for a solid fifteen minutes.  If we’d saved enough energy, we could engage in a clandestine lovemaking session, covered by the bedsheet, trying to keep the bed frame from squeaking or the headboard from banging against the wall.

Unfortunately, I was gun shy after our ‘coitus interruptus’ and Jamie seemed to be internalizing the stress of parenthood even more than I was. He was still affectionate, and would frequently wrap his arms around me for a hug, come up behind me when I was doing dishes and rub my shoulders, or pull my head to his chest when we lay next to each other in bed reading.  But after my experience being married to him thus far, it wasn’t like him. It was surprising that Jamie wasn’t lusting after me, wasn’t taking liberties with my body, wasn’t making it clear he wanted nothing more than to have me naked.  

Perhaps even more disturbing to me, I was okay with the lack of sex. I tried to reassure myself.  Jamie and I were still cooperating with each other, accomplishing an important thing.   We were still working together, laughing together.  Despite the inconvenience, Perkaj was adorable and Jamie was adorable with him. But both of us were exhausted at night. We were all sleeping in the same room; less alone time meant fewer opportunities when the same idea would strike both of us, when raised eyebrows or a simple caress would be the snowflake that started an avalanche.

But as my dad had said, this was ‘just a season.’

And what a season.  Along with the hot, dry conditions that made it challenging to keep my garden healthy and brought the mamas to clinic fanning themselves and telling me they were lukuun bwil, the level of the catchment continued to drop until the bucket would scrape against the cement bottom of the tank when we drew our drinking water.

One afternoon after school Perkaj announced that he was going to stay and help Baba Shamie cut the grass.  Apparently he and Jamie had been talking on their walk home and Jamie had shared his plans for the afternoon.

“Ikonaan jibaneke,” Perkaj said.  “I want help you!”

Perkaj helped me water my plants and then used the hand-held grass clippers to assist Jamie by trimming the grass near our outbuildings and well.  Jamie used an old school scythe to cut the grass, a wicked looking curved blade on a long wooden handle with two grips.  When he held it on his shoulder as he headed out to the field, he looked like a tropical themed version of the Grim Reaper, with khaki shorts, a tee shirt, and flaming red hair.

I followed the boys as they worked, using a rake to heap up the grass and lift it into our wheelbarrow. Jamie had decided that composting was a necessity to increase the quality of our soil, so we were layering grass clippings with palm fronds and kitchen waste in a heap in the back corner of the property.

I was across the yard when two girls walked hesitantly up to Jamie.  He leaned on his scythe, giving them his attention.

“Meester Shamie,” one of them said, “we no have water to drink.  Our catchment is emmat...empty?

Jamie looked at them, at their water container, and at the big jug by the still, three quarters full from the days’ filtration. He glanced at me.

“Of course,” I insisted, “we have enough to share.”

As Jamie poured water into their bottles, I crossed the yard to the well. Someone would need to draw more well water to refill the solar still.

Through the sunny hours of the day while Jamie was teaching, I had taken it upon myself to keep the reservoir of the still filled with enough well water to keep the trickle of distilled water constantly flowing. When one water jug was filled, I would transfer the hose to the next jug and place the cap on the now-full container.

“Jibaneke?” The little voice asked from behind me. “I help you, Mama Peach?”

Perkaj might have been only seven, but he was an expert at the wrist flick necessary for getting water from the well, and the rapid hand -over -hand motion to bring up a full coffee can. He filled the five gallon bucket in half the time it would take me, then beamed up at me as we carried the bucket together to pour into the solar still.

He stood up on his tiptoes to peek through the sloped glass cover. “Well water enana?” he questioned, brown furrowed.  

“Is it bad?” I responded. “Not bad.  Just doesn’t taste good  for drinking .”

“But Mama Peach,” he said with his forehead wrinkled, “Aolep well water,” Perkaj said.  

It was all well water? I didn’t understand what he meant. Rupert had brought the lower grades over to teach them a lesson about the solar still and evaporation, so I had seen them peering in interest at the setup. I was sure Rupert had explained how the process removed minerals, salt, and impurities from the water.

“Ke?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

He showed the motion of the water with his hands -- the upward wafting of moisture, at which he said, “Well water,” then indicated the abrupt stop at the sloping glass, “Well water also” and then showed the drops falling into the collection channel. “Aolep well water,” he finished, holding up his hands as if to encompass the whole water cycle.

“Well, not exactly,” I tried to explain, hesitantly trying out my baby Majel.  “This is a small version of how the earth makes fresh water.  When the water goes into the air, it leaves behind germs and salt and bitter minerals.  Do you see the white crust on the black fabric?  That's the bad part-what was left behind.”

Perkaj peered into the still through the condensation -covered glass curiously.  “Oh.” He exclaimed, wide eyed.  I wasn’t sure he’d understood, but at least I’d tried.

The day stayed hot past sunset, the air barely holding any humidity.  Without a breeze, the house didn’t cool off even when it got dark.  Jamie had tried to cuddle me, but any place our skin contacted we would stick together, and any movement would feel like trying to detach from an octopus.

Perkaj was snoring quietly in his bed when Jamie got up and headed to the door, shoving his feet into his flip flops.  He headed outside without an explanation; I figured he needed the restroom.  

I was lost in my book when I startled at a faint sound behind me. Was that shifting gravel outside the window? I paused to listen. We’d opened the curtains because it was so damn hot, but that meant anyone outside would be able to see me… and could see that Jamie wasn’t here with me.  Still, none of the island men would even try to  bother me.  I wasn’t a single woman anymore, and they wouldn’t dare insult Meester Shamie…

“Tssst tssst,” a voice hissed from outside the window.  “Tssst tssst.” I pretended not to hear them, hoping inwardly that Jamie would return any minute and this person would fade away into the night and stop embarrassing themselves.

“Miss Peachay,” the voice sang, “I want to talk to you.  Tssst tssst.  You want to go to the shungle with me? Kwe konaan bwebwenato?”

As the invitations continued, I turned slowly to squint out the window.  The light from the apartment shone faintly on the pole supporting the short wave radio antenna.  There was a large hand gripping the pole, and next to the hand… there was curly red hair.

“You dip wad!” I hissed.  “I nearly peed my pants!”

“Shhhh,” he responded.  “Grab a quilt.  Come to the shungle with me.”

Perkaj was sleeping, so I figured what the heck.  I obeyed, grabbing a quilt and the mosquito net, turning off the lamp, shoving my feet into zories, and joining Jamie on the road in front of the clinic.

“Come on,” he whispered, taking me by the hand and leading me across the road.  There was only a little sliver of moon, but it was enough to keep us from crashing into trees as we wove deeper into the ocean-side palm forest.  

We got far enough that we couldn’t see the clinic light anymore, and giggled as we spread out the quilt and covered ourselves with the mosquito net.  

Out of the house it was actually cooler, and I sighed in relief as I looked up at the stars, Jamie’s arm behind  my head.

I couldn’t help it, laying on that quilt, covered by that mosquito net, looking up at those stars. “Oh, Frank…” I breathed.

My husband froze, and then he reacted. “Oh, you did not just call me Frank,” Jamie exclaimed.  I giggled as he rolled over on top of me.  “You take that back,” he ordered, his hand forcing its way under my tank top.

I laughed again, meeting his lips with mine, helping him peel off his shirt, wriggling out of my shorts and panties.

It had been so long and the circumstances were so novel I was fully engaged, blissful at his hands on me,  kissing his neck, reaching for him with my hand.  I attempted to change positions, to urge him inside, but he seemed determined to dominate me, insistent.

His hands were on my breasts and then his mouth was, teasing my nipples, biting them gently.   His hands were on my thighs and he was between my legs.  But he seemed to just be teasing me, pressing his pelvis towards me but then pulling away as I opened to him.

I realized he was waiting for something.

I took a deep breath. “I know who you are,” I whispered.  “Jamie.  Soulmate.  True love.  Partner.”

He paused, relaxed against me, kissed me gently between phrases.

“Provider,” I continued. “Protector. Gift of Providence.  Father of my babies. Friend.  Jimjeran.”

When we joined, finally, I was crying. I reached up and found his face, placing my hands on his cheeks, keeping his lips on mine as we moved together, as we connected, as we bonded ourselves together once again.

The whine of mosquitoes chased us inside, but not before we heard a wolf whistle from Anni and Kona’s yard as we crossed the road in front of the clinic. “Miss Peachay, Meester Shamie!” She exclaimed.  “You go to shungle?”

We headed inside to the sound of her laughter.

The next morning as we were getting ready for work and school, I noticed Jamie scratching himself rather intently  on the ass.  

“Hey Meester Shamie,” I joked, “How did you get a mosquito bite?”

He grinned at me adoringly. “I wonder, Miss Peachay.”

[elfrootaddict]

It has been a looooooong time since I posted anything regarding my Halla & Wolf series but I have recently managed to start the next volume: Keeping Company

Here are two small extracts from chapters 1 & 2 🤗

Chapter 1 of vol. 5 Keeping Company:

...

Lana then spots Commander Cullen shouting inaudible instructions towards his exhausted recruits, and then peers up at Solas, “You go on ahead. I just need to speak to our Commander before I head inside. See you at dinner?”

“Of course,” concurs Solas with a smile. “See you then.”

With a respectful nod towards Solas, Lana turns and walks towards the soldiers in training, “Cullen!”

Before leaving Haven for the Hinterlands, Lana often found herself wandering around the camp when she wasn’t either talking to Solas, playing Wicked Grace with Varric or sketching in her cabin. By the second day, she found the Inquisition’s military adviser training new soldiers or improving strategies with the experienced ones near Haven’s frozen lake, with the snowy mountains stretching up towards the scarred sky. In the quieter moments of her day, she would often enjoy watching the soldiers train under the guidance of Cullen’s experience and expertise. And since she has no training, or use, when it comes to utilitising a sword and shield, Lana found the number of different ways a sword can be used to strike down one's opponent to be equally grotesque and fascinating. It was a whole other world of defense she never knew and it piqued her curious mind.

Not wanting to get directly involved or noticed, Lana would quietly sit and observe to learn what she could from a distance. And on the few random occasions, Lana and Cullen would quickly share a couple of glances from afar and release mutual smiles of respect towards one another. This would be the only time they would interact, albeit from a distance, when they were outside the war room.

That is until by the fifth day, when a soldier in training managed to parry a sword out of another’s hand and accidentally fling it straight towards Lana, piercing the ground only an arm-stretch away from her feet. Irritated with his soldier’s negligence, Cullen orders the soldier to retrieve the sword and the young man immediately hurries over in panic, “Please forgive me, Herald! It will never happen again!”

Lana waves her hand in the air in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, “No, no, it’s fine. Please, don’t worry.”

The soldier simply offers a respectful bow and turns on his heel, passing Cullen as he heads towards Lana himself, “Maker’s breath,” remarks Cullen looking embarrassed. “I apologize on behalf of my soldier, Herald. Clumsy fool.”

With a sympathetic laugh, Lana looks up at Cullen, “It really is okay, Commander. It was just an accident.”

“Regardless,” reiterates Cullen with furrowed brows. “It should not have happened.”

Still looking up at the Commander, whose appearance Lana felt was easy on the eyes for a human, and his shining armour with a deep red fur wrapped around his shoulders, offers a simple smile. “That was still quite an impressive move.”

Cullen releases a soft laugh under his breath, “Disarming one’s opponent like that does not happen often.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” begins Cullen looking down at the ever curious elf peering up before him. “To get such a bind on your opponent’s sword like that means that your opponent isn’t very experienced or they are beyond exhaustion and are no longer concentrating. Usually your opponent will be able to parry such an attack if they know what they’re doing before the sword is twisted out of their hand.”

“Parry?”

“It means to counter a move,” explains Cullen casually, however based on Lana’s curious but perplexed expression, he releases a polite smile, “Perhaps it would be best if I showed you? If you’re interested, of course. I understand if you are needed elsewhere.”

Delighted by the invitation to know more about the world of swords and shields, Lana stands to her feet with a wide grin, “Of course! That is if you don’t mind? I can always come back another day.”

With a sincere smile, Cullen cocks his head towards his soldiers and reassures Lana that it would be of no inconvenience at all to show her some of the basic techniques of fencing and mastery of the sword. Since then, Lana and Cullen would often spend some time discussing other off-hand topics while watching the soldiers practice their techniques. Igniting another unexpected friendship.

~~~

Chapter 2 of vol. 5 Keeping Company:

...

“Now what?” murmurs Lana eventually to help snap her mind out of her obscene thoughts and back to the present. Back to reality.

Solas releases a wide smile at Lana’s eagerness as he cannot help but feel his own giddiness swirling inside him. The idea of bringing someone from this world into the Fade with him was quickly denied by the overly cautious, frightened and grossly misunderstood people of Thedas. Nobody cared to know more about the Fade than what the Chantry already preached. The Dalish were far too superstitious and did not want to disturb the resting place of their pantheon, lest they catch the wandering eye of Fen’Harel. Their minds were all made-up and nobody could tell them otherwise. Especially a wondering, lowly elf nobody had ever heard of before.

Reaching for his side of the fireplace, Solas grabs a small clay bowl with crushed, dried elfroot, “Now, before I light this I want to mention a few key aspects about the Fade that I believe you already know, but I feel should be said regardless,” Lana takes small shallow breaths as she listens intently to Solas’s every word. “Your beliefs and willpower is paramount in the Fade. Everything that exists there, exists by your expression of thought. If you are expecting a demon, the Spirit will adapt. Magic can be used if necessary but I strongly advise against it. Magic in the Fade is incredibly unpredictable and may end up causing more harm than good. As a somniari, I have far more control over my surroundings and abilities, so you will follow my lead and enter my dream.”

Lana slowly nods in acknowledgement, “Okay.”

“Now, I remember you mentioning that you have only entered the Fade once with your Keeper. So, I have taken the liberty of drying up some elfroot to help you relax. Making the passage easier for you,” Solas brings the bowl closer to his face and creates a small flame, lighting the dried healing plant before blowing all the flames out. A plume of smoke rises from the bowl as Solas places it on the grown between them. “Take my hands and close your eyes,” Lana looks down at the open palms laying before her and gently places her hands onto them. Solas then curls his fingers around, sealing her hands in a firm but gentle grip and murmurs. “Now, just focus on breathing in the air and connecting to the Fade. I will do the rest.”

With her eyes shut and seeing nothing but darkness, Lana focuses on her other senses: the elfroot fumes burning her nose as she takes in sharp, deep breaths, her aura humming alive as it connects to the Fade, the heat from the fire almost too hot against her face, her hands slightly damp in Solas’s grip, and the hairs standing up on the back of her neck as the magic begins to swirl around her. Suddenly her head begins to feel as light as a feather and slowly spins around, giving her the feeling she might lose her balance. But with Solas holding her securely in place, she knows she is safe from falling.

[seprianchristian]

Elements of anthropology

Part One: Elements of Anthropology

Explain the elements of anthropology to be considered in cross-cultural ministry to the particular

Anthropology comprises of the fundamental concept including the study of God and study of humanity basing on different aspects of life being evidenced in day-to-day life of people in their respective societies. The creator who is God is being considered to be the divine cultural source in which everything which is good comes from him. This has impacted the religious beliefs of many people who have increased their belief in God. Everything created by God is being considered to be for his own glory and revealing accurately and truly the person in himself. The global culture has been impacted by the anthropological beliefs since it is believed that the first culture was created with Eve and Adam in the reflection of who truly God is as a super natural being (McDowell, 2016).

1-Kinship, marriage, and family

Anthropology comprises of various forms of kinship, family which is very crucial in the study of humanity. This deals with humanity and discovering how the people in the society express their humane acts to each other in the society. The aspects of the people in several languages and cultures are denoted b the systematic anthropology. Several facets of family and kinship systems are characterised with a variation of practices of divorce and marriage and how the social organization of the culture is being determined by the structure of the family. This also determines and shapes the way relationships and roles are taught to the new generations and this would be of great impact to such generations. The process, structure and the reason behind the family relations is crucial in the analysis. For instance, the theology of the bible and the design norms of the family is clearly taught for the scripture on different topics which it authoritatively speaks for the Christians who believe in the Bible (Act of libraries, 2017).

2-Age, race, ethnicity, gender, and class

The people in the society of different age and race have the tendence of interpreting the scripture giving the standards for different cultures which they belong to. This is because the individuals tend to divert away from the culture due to their social class. It can also be seen clearly when God created the world, he only created two genders female and male to live together on earth. Collectively, they would be able to control and rule earth since they were created in God's image. God directly created Adam who was the male gender. This the reason why in the societal and religious settings it is considered that men are superior over the women and that the women were created out of the man's rib. The social values of men and women in the society clearly depicts on the time and how they were created by God. It was one in such a way one gender is superior over the other in terms of cultural and social values (Hudson et al, 2021).

3-Economics and social organization

The economic and social values in the society are usually different and ranges from one person to another. The society is always characterised by individuals who are superior to others and this sometimes can be based on politics. In many societies, the justice is equal to all people and normally refer themselves to be socialists, fascists and sometimes democratic nations. The demands of the people are always powerful with the centralized government dedicated enough to provide the people with the necessary resources to ensure that there is economic and social development. In different parts of the world, the private property owned by the people is usually protected by the consensus in the society so that the economy is stabilized and protected. People believe that the good news preached by Jesus led to social, economic, and political freedom which happened first in the western countries (Lumen, 2021).

4-Belief systems and religious practice  

All the people in the society in all parts of the world have faith due to the fact that they were made from God's image and this has been widely preached by Christianity. This has made people believe that they can not rely on themselves in along run while facing their challenges. Believing in God and accepting that with him everything is possible is common today among the Christians. For example, in genesis of the human race by Eve and Adam, there was creation of the community of worship in which people would come together and pray while asking for what they want from God. The church in the society would have a religious leader who would act as the messenger of the Bible just like how Adam was the head of the first family. For the people who are wicked, there is a punishment put for those individuals due to deviation from the covenant. For example, in noahs ark the wicked people were punished by the floods which eliminated them (Kreitzer, 2016).

Part two: Culture Change within the Context of Missiology

Based on your analysis of the various components of culture, which components will most impact best practices for cross-cultural ministry for the particular culture

The religious practice and belief systems will greatly affect the cultural settings of different societies. Different cultural or traditions have been stopped due to the religious values which are against them and are considered to be evil in the face of God. Everything in the societal traditions have been left for only the Creator to do (Kreitzer, 2016).

Discuss both positive and negative influences, and summarize the next steps/call to action.

It has demonstrated that all people must be dependent from God who made them to live. This has dynamically changed the people's views on their traditions and this has resulted into extinction of some traditions. The religion has changed all the nature how men treat their wives and respect them since in the Bible it is said that we are all equal to God. Therefore, there should not be any form of injustice in the society and this is very important in creating peace and security in the society. It is being illustrated that individual believers will not significantly impose their own culture on other people with different cultures. Culture has adversely changed and everything has become religious and left in control of God (National park service, 2021).

References

Kreitzer, M. R. (2016). A new dawn for Africa: What does the Bible really say about rebuilding Africa with God's spirit and biblical social ethics? Cape Town, South Africa: Christian Liberty

McDowell, P. (2016). Political Anthropology: A Cross-Cultural Comparison. Retrieved from, https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-culturalanthropology/chapter/political_anthropology/

Lumen. (2021). Explain the elements of anthropology to be considered in cross-cultural ministry to the particular. retrieved from, https://courses.lumenlearning.com/culturalanthropology/chapter/anthropological-culture-concept/

National park service. (2021). What Is Cultural Anthropology? retrieved from, https://www.nps.gov/orgs/1209/what-is-cultural-anthropology.htm

Hudson, S. Smith, C., Michael, L., and Scott, H. (2018). Symbolic and Interpretive Anthropologies. retrieved from, https://anthropology.ua.edu/theory/symbolic-and-interpretive-anthropologies/

Act for libraries. (2017). The Anthropological Perspective What Makes It Unique. retrieved from, http://www.actforlibraries.org/the-anthropological-perspective-what-makes-it-unique/

[bookoformon]

3Nephi, Chapter 2, Part 2. "Fairness."

The conceit, the "trick" with the Book of Mormon is it prophesies of the coming of Christ in its own fictional history and discusses why His Gospels were significant. Then in virtual reality it displays how awful, ruthless, petty, wicked, and destructive man is anyway.

This point must not be lost. After all the anticipation, the Christ child has been born it is year 5, but the people named in 3 Nephi as not changing or growing, they are not the least bit engaged with the fact God has Come:

10 And it came to pass that the people did still remain in wickedness, notwithstanding the much preaching and prophesying which was sent among them; and thus passed away the tenth year also; and the eleventh year also passed away in iniquity.

11 And it came to pass in the thirteenth year there began to be wars and contentions throughout all the land; for the Gadianton Robbers had become so numerous, and did slay so many of the people, and did lay waste so many cities, and did spread so much death and carnage throughout the land, that it became expedient that all the people, both the Nephites and the Lamanites, should take up arms against them.

12 Therefore, all the Lamanites who had become converted unto the Lord did unite with their brethren, the Nephites, and were compelled, for the safety of their lives and their women and their children, to take up arms against those Gadianton robbers, yea, and also to maintain their rights, and the privileges of their church and of their worship, and their freedom and their liberty.

13 And it came to pass that before this thirteenth year had passed away the Nephites were threatened with utter destruction because of this war, which had become exceedingly sore.

14 And it came to pass that those Lamanites who had united with the Nephites were numbered among the Nephites;

15 And their curse was taken from them, and their skin became white like unto the Nephites;

16 And their young men and their daughters became exceedingly fair, and they were numbered among the Nephites, and were called Nephites. And thus ended the thirteenth year.

FAIRNESS is the just and good kind, it is also either a sign of leprosy, blasphemy, or a sign one has attained to full and complete knowledge of God.

Fairness is not overflowing in most of the Book of Mormon which is filled with nonsense wars between crooks, the church, and various neighborhoods of persons, all who violate the most pristine tenet it names "be friendly, do not mint weapons of war."

But for wont of freedom and liberty, war is needed and they boil up all over again because the corruption has not been made to stop. Everyone in America has been arguing and willing to bear arms over a short list of corrupt priorities- Curbing abortion rights and birth control, forcing gay people into a mold that is not their own, and oppression of black, Jewish, and Muslim people.

Not one of these things is legal, they could all be crushed instantly and life could be so good, but never have we considered putting an end to their causes, the Republican Party, not once. So war is what we shall have if the White House does not enforce the law against them.

The Prophecy say we will find a way to adhere to the Prime Commandment. I don't see how so long that will happen as the law is not observed and corruption is allowed.

The Values in Gematria for the above sections are:

v. 13: The Value in Gematria is 11214, אבאד‎ ‎, "the object of desire is yabad", "to be dried out of the violence and advance."

The verb יבש (yabesh) means to wither; to be or become dry (Joshua 9:5, Isaiah 15:6, Amos 4:7). There are some other verbs that basically mean to dry or dry up, but yabesh is used predominantly to indicate withering of plants and vegetables (or even souls or body parts).

Oddly enough, typically this verb is used to describe the dryness of the earth after the flood of Noah recedes (Genesis 8:14), and the dryness of the Reed Sea that allows Israel to escape from Egypt (Joshua 2:10).

This verb's derivatives are:

The adjective יבש (yabesh), meaning dried (Numbers 6:3) or dry (Nahum 1:10, Job 13:25).

The feminine noun יבשה (yabbasha), meaning dry land (Exodus 4:9, Nehemiah 9:11, Isaiah 44:3).

The feminine noun יבשת (yabbashet), also meaning dry land. This variant is used only in Psalm 95:5 and Exodus 4:9.

v. 14: The Value in Gematria is 6032, ו אֶפֶסגב, "and the summit, and Ephesus." First the flood, then the summit of Ararat, the "curse reversed" and then the New Town, Ephesus, the one that is always behind us because we won't put an end the corruption.‎‎

v. 15: The Value in Gematria is 4409, דדאֶפֶסט‎‎, a deadfest, the slaughter of the causes of sin is a must if we are to purify society. The Republicans cheated en masse in the 2016 Election, there is a major motion picture that has the footage, they operate a gay underage pedophile porn ring, they invited an armed coup into the Capitol building on January 6, 2021, they are colluding with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to engage in espionage and human trafficking, abuse of minors, and they are being permitted to cover it all up.

They recently engaged in Crimes Against Humanity by overturning RVW and worst of all of these was their callousness towards the people of Ukraine when they came to us for help.

The Republican Party must be closed down, its lawmakers, SCOTUS Judges and allies put to death for treason and numerous felonies. Society must be purified of the Republicans.

v. 16: The Value in Gematria is 8133, חאג‎ג‎, hagg, similar to Hajj, we must make a circle around the Republicans in Congress, and none of them must be allowed to escape.

see verse 11:

"...for the Gadianton Robbers [deliberately obscures and acts contrary to the truth] had become so numerous, and did slay so many of the people, and did lay waste so many cities, and did spread so much death and carnage throughout the land, that it became expedient that all the people, both the Nephites and the Lamanites, should take up arms against them."

The primary thrust of the Gospels are it is hard to be good, but not difficult to be loved, and to love that which is good is the very best man can hope to accomplish. The Republicans have this all fucked up.

Capiche?

[thefallencrestfamily]

"The Fallen Crest Family"

Chapter 4: Mela Ami, The Mysterious 14th Misfit Student (2)

As the lunch bell rang, Ameri shows up out of nowhere and drags both Iruma and Alice to a room and lock themselves inside.

Ameri: "Sorry for the sudden rush but this was important and I had to be sure no one else can hear us. Do you remember when you asked for research help about the Crest Family?"

Iruma: "Y-Yeah."

Ameri: "Well, I actually had the liberty to ask my father for the closed case files about it, but I promised him not to tell anyone else and to give it back once we all looked at it, I'm sorry, I couldn't just text classified info."

Iruma: "It's alright Ameri, I appreciate this. Thank you."

All three of them look at the files, as it talks about the crime scene. Pictures of the place burned books and dried blood stains. It seemed like the building itself was still perfectly intact. The case files talked about every name that was counted in as deaths, all except one.

Iruma: "...Melody Crest."

Alice: "It says that she was the only one who wasn't counted as dead, since her body was never found and was reported missing for years until the case file got closed."

Ameri: "It's too bad too, I was told she was a prodigy student of Babylus who was labeled as a Misfit."

Iruma: "...By chance, do you guys know what the Crest Family Bloodline Ability is?"

Alice: "Their Bloodline Ability? Oh, their ability is very rare and was told that the family members barely shows it off unless it was for emergencies. Balam knew Melody Crest during his time with her so he remembers it well, once and only once she has used it in battle. The Bloodline Ability Sacrifice, the ability to sacrifice a piece of themselves in exchange for power be it healing, strength or protection. The more power needed, the more they have to sacrifice themselves."

Iruma: "Sacrifices a piece of themselves..."

Ameri: "We should ask more details with Balam then if he knew about the Family Bloodline and we can go to the Crest Family home afterwards."

Iruma: "Oh yeah, speaking of which. Ameri and Azz, can we have one more person help with the investigation. She too want to learn more about the Crest Family Slaughter, and she knows a lot about the Crest Family through her own solo research before."

Alice: "What's her name?"

Iruma: "Her name is Mela Ami-."

Alice: "Iruma Sir, did you just say Mela was a Ami?! Like part of Kirio Ami's family?!"

Iruma: "Um y-yeah?"

Alice still remembered when Kirio returned to the Battler Room. His eyes that has been taken over by the succumbed by his wicked phase and returned to origins. If Mela is a Ami, then he can't take chances with her being a accomplice to Kirio.

Alice: "Why didn't you say she was a Ami?!"

Ameri: "Alice calm down. Iruma, you are aware of the problems this might turn out if we bring her right? You know the reasons Kirio left the school, so why would you associate yourself with another Ami?"

Iruma: "Because she was a illegitimate child of the Ami Family and was abandoned at a young age, so she resents her family and prefers not to be mentioned as a Ami. I doubt she even knows who Kirio even is."

Ameri and Alice looked to each other. Both had their suspicions, but it was clear she probably hasn't even met Kirio. Suddenly a phone call from Clara in Iruma's phone stops the silence between them.

Clara: "Iruma-kins, where are you? Me and La La already finished our lunches in the Cafeteria and playing what she calls Luffy Pow!"

Alice & Ameri: "Luffy Pow?"

Iruma: "Sorry Clara, something happened but me and Azz are on our way."

Iruma and Alice say their goodbyes to Ameri, as they go off to see Clara and Melody of the aftermath with what was basically a paintball fight but with giant cotton balls.

Melody: "That was so much fun!"

Clara: "Let's play again soon like this, okay La La?"

Melody: "Yeah! I look forward to it! But first... Clera Ricos Disineria!"

Immediately after saying those words, the paint cotton balls surrounding them disappeared. All three were shocked as they never saw a spell like this before.

Alice: "Where did you learn to do a spell like that? I never seen anything like it."

Melody: "Oh that spell? It was self taught. It's a spell I made myself."

Alice: "You made that spell?!"

Melody: "Yeah, it's something I've been passionate about for a long time. It's also how I was able to move up the ranks in my first year. Without my spells, I wouldn't be where I am."

Alice: "Spells? As in plural?! You have more?!"

Melody: "Why yes. After my exams, I can teach you guys a few easy Mela Spells I came up with if it interests you."

Alice, Iruma & Clara: "Yes!"

---------

Time passed by so quickly, that school ended and everyone already left to go home. The teachers had a meeting with Lord Sullivan, who need as many teachers to volunteer to judge the Talent Exam. After a lot of discussions Kalego, Dali, Robin, Suzy & Raim decided to be the judges. Similar to the Musical Festival, she had to perform to pass with a 666 marm. But this would be different. No music specialist judges could come at last minute, so she would have to fight against teacher judges for a 66666 mark.

Dali: "Are you sure this is okay? Sure she finished the Written Exam with ease, but don't you think getting a perfect 66666 for all five teachers is a little too much to ask for the poor girl?"

Kalego: "She can handle it if she is ambitious enough to join the Misfits in Royal One."

Robin: "Well I just look forward to see what she has in store! If she passed Kalego's Written Exam so quickly, I'm dying to know what she'll do next."

Suzy: "Mm hm, same here."

Raim: "Hold on... do you guys hear that?"

Kalego: "Yeah, no one else should be in this school but us."

Kalego and the 4 other teachers decide to investigate the sound and as they got close they realized it was more than one sound. The sound of a orchestra coming from outside.

The peeked over to see multiple clones of Melody playing many different classical instruments with several other Melody clones singing in a chorus. The piece they were playing was Six Trillion Years & Overnight Story, a song they never heard before.

Robin however stepped on a twig from behind and in a panic, Melody stopped her music from loss of focus and turned off her clones, as they disappeared with their instruments.

Melody: "Who's there?!"

Kalego told the four other teachers to stay as Kalego was the only one to decide to reveal himself instead. Melody sighed in relief from his presence as he approached her.

Kalego: "What are you doing in the school grounds this late?"

Melody: "I was just practicing is all. I couldn't do it at home, and since the music rooms tend to close off bookings after 6pm, I had to find open space."

He remembers that he had locked and kicked her off the Royal One room because school ended for the day. And if she stayed in the music room after school, she practiced for another 3 hours. That means she has been practicing all day, how is she not tired? But he looked at her face and saw worry and stress.

Kalego: "You have a gift for musical talent. And to be able to play so many roles with mirror clones of yourself takes a lot of focus. And it looks like you have a performance picked out. So what's bothering you that can make you stay in school grounds this late?"

Melody: "To be honest, I haven't chosen a performance yet. All the stuff you saw, it was just to help me think of ideas to make the performance better."

Kalego: "But your performance was-."

Melody: "Good? I know... but I want a performance that represents me. I wanna tell my story as I sing. I don't just aim for scores, Mr. Naberius, I aim to tell my identity on stage."

For a small moment, Kalego saw "Mela" as Melody, repeating those same words all those years ago. But the moment stopped when he felt a hand touching his face, realizing he started tearing up.

Melody: "Mr. Naberius? Are you okay?"

Kalego: "I'm fine, get your hand off me."

Kalego pushed her hand away as his tears dried off. Why was he remembering now? He pushed his memories of first year away because of the incident with the Crest Family was preventing him from pursuing his ambitions. He had to give up on her and deliberately tried to forget her. And yet, this girl who appeared so suddenly makes him remember the girl he tried so hard to push away. And then finally he asks."

Kalego: "Have we met before all of this?"

Melody: "No, we haven't. I only met Balam in a bookstore beforehand."

Kalego: "...Tell me how you saw him without him detecting you?"

Melody: "I use detection warding glasses."

Kalego: "Why would you need them when going to the bookstore?"

Melody looks down, twiddling her thumbs as her face turns a little red. Was she blushing?

Melody: "O-Oh that... Well um... It was... because I was banned from going to the bookstore after multiple accidental spellcasting incidents from reading the spellbooks. I got too excited and I was always a curious person when it came to spells so I... I wasn't always thinking about the consequences. So when I would go there, I would use the detection warding glasses and for extra measure, I'd use a temporary silence spell I made myself so I don't speak out spells in the store anymore."

So that's what happened. It would make sense that a girl who caused so much trouble at a store because of her ambitions and interests. Sullivan was right, she was a troublemaker when it came to her love for spellcasting. If she passes, chaos would ensue, he would have to ensure limits on the girl.

Kalego: "...Tell me. How many times have you caused trouble with your experiments on spells? Give me a average number."

Melody: "I guess like... 3-7 times a day."

Kalego: "And how many of those are serious?"

Melody: "Like... 1 or 2 a day?"

Kalego facepalmed himself. She's worse than Iruma's attraction to danger. At least with Iruma, he tries to dodge danger and unintentionally puts himself in danger through reactions, with her though she speeds head on. Now worried about this girl's future, he's just thinking how her home life by herself. Probably a mess.

Kalego: "You know what...I kept you here too long. Let me take you home."

Melody: "Are... Are you sure?"

Kalego: "Yes, and I guess I can help you try to decide your song as we go."

That confused Melody for a moment, as Kalego didn't make eye contact with her.

Melody: "Why thought?"

Kalego: "Because I was suppose to kick you out originally but ended up stalling instead, so I take full responsibility for tonight. I don't want you doing this again, you got that brat."

Oh. He was just worried in his own way. Kalego was always stubborn.

Melody: Sure okay I guess-.

Kalego: "Also, I want to see the state of you home. You live alone right? I need to inspect so I can confirm you living situation."

Melody: "...Wait what?!"

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