#the way their own government does and they blindly accept

[nothingleftforme]

SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT HAMAS. YOURE OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING MIND IF YOU THINK ANYTHING HAMAS HAS EVER DONE EVEN COMES CLOSE TO THE ATROCITIES THE STATE OF ISRAEL HAS COMMITTED AGAINST PALESTINIANS AND THE REST OF THE MIDDLE EAST FOR 75 YEARS. FUCK YOU.

[petrichormore]

(Another ramble incoming - this one I’ve been sitting on for a bit. But it’s about Bebou & the French. And the jail incident. And also bla bla bla this is about the characters)

I might be wrong but I really think that if some of the french agree with q!bbh about the government being bad/anarchy being good thing… it’s not because Bad managed to convince them that q!forever is some horrible dictator with his wily demon cunning and manipulative silvertongue or something. it’s because. they just. agree with his views and sympathize with him. Like they just sometimes think Bad has a point, is the thing. Now I know Bad likes to spread misinformation but he rarely does it in a way that can really be taken seriously, or have any big effect (with a few… exceptions).

Bad likes to jokingly blame Forever for like anything and everything but if anyone actually presses him about it (I’m pretty sure pierre, antoine, and etoiles all have to varying degrees) he’s pretty quick to emphasize that he trusts Forever’s judgment and moral compass.

Or he used to. Until he got pushed into a cage trap. It’s clear he lost a significant amount of trust in Forever and everyone else who was involved with that. And he suspected Forever (or Cellbit) of framing him, but I’d say that’s relatively reasonable considering, from his perspective, they jumped to a conclusion with no proof. He doesn’t understand why they wouldn’t hear him out, so he’s looking for a reason. And he’s telling other people not because he’s trying to spread misinfo but because that’s just what he believes and usually, he’s telling people because they’re asking him.

Anyway, Pierre didn’t really steal the waystones because he automatically believed everything Bad said about Forever being a dictator immediately and with no hesitation. If he accepted or encouraged what Bad said, it’s because he probably already agreed to some extent. Pierre, Antoine, Etoiles - they’re smarter than blindly accepting the truth from badboyhalo the Chronic Gossiper. And at least 2/3rds of them are also convinced that Bad and Forever are dating - so they’re not taking what Bad says about Forever that seriously.

If you ask me: Pierre did it because he was probably already more politically aligned with Bad’s anarchist ideals than he ever was with Forever’s and, most importantly, because he witnessed Bad get jailed unfairly with his OWN. TWO. EYEBALLS. LIKE HE SAW THAT. HE WAS THERE.

How did he know Bad was framed? He TALKED TO HIM. He went to his base and had a conversation with him and of the two (count it with me - TWO) people that actually heard Bad out that day (Foolish and Pierre) both of them came out of the conversation believing he wasn’t the culprit. Wouldn’t you know it - communication solved that conflict pretty fast, but Bad didn’t get a chance to communicate to Forever or anyone else because they almost immediately dogpiled him. And Pierre saw that happen.

And I’m pretty sure he also saw Forever hold a vote and then accept that Bad was guilty of a crime. A crime. That isn’t illegal. That he didn’t even do in the first place.

So. I’m sure you can see why Pierre might feel the urge to defend Bad - maybe even from Forever specifically, and of his own volition. Although I can’t say stealing all the waystones and rearranging them into a pentagram above Forever’s house was a particularly reliable method of doing so, nor can I say Bad really needed the protection - Forever had no malicious intent and was fully trying to be fair. (can you tell im a q!forever apologist? because if you can’t: he did nothing wrong. Maybe one day I will make a giant post about how much of a q!forever apologist i am).

Am I making sense. At all. It’s 2am. And I’m getting the sensation that I’m missing something with this one but I’m too tired to correct it so I’ll look at it later.

[collapsedsquid]

Key to understanding Rothbard on matters like this is that he identified himself as a "radical decentralist." He did not make simplistic arguments like "free markets will solve all our problems" and leave it at that. Nor did he think that — like some sort of Marxist — that only a full-blown version of his vision could better achieve the ends he proposed. On the contrary, Rothbard knew that even a move in the direction of truly free markets, through radical decentralization, was better than the centralized state that dictates to all local governments and private owners everywhere. Centralization cuts off every possible solution except the few accepted by the "experts" of the centralized state, and thus ensures that , if the one "official" plan fails, that there is no plan B, or way to prevent the problem from spreading throughout the one, giant national jurisdiction.

In other words, the current lack of decentralization prevents local governments, airlines, airports, or even individual states from having any control over movements between states or into airports. Such matters are all dictated by a single source: the federal government. Were a decentralized approach allowed, however, individual states, cities, airlines, and airports would be responsible for their own safety precautions. Moreover, those making the decisions, i.e.,  those in charge of safety in Atlanta and the Atlanta airport (as just an example), would also be personally affected were the precautions to fail.

Also, were there a decentralized system, it is unlikely that (in our example) were the Atlanta airport to institute precautions (up to and including a full travel ban) that all other airports and states and cities would blindly accept that the precautions were successful. Instead, travelers from Atlanta to, say, Denver, would have to again be subject to checks of their origins, state of health, final destination, etc.

Now some libertarians will say "but that's even worse than what we have now, where at least we have free movement once we're in the US." Now it's true there may be more inconvenience in some cases, assuming one's not already on some federal list (in which case your ability to travel by air is destroyed forever), but of course, this idea of some kind of one-stop-shop for disease control resembles the free market much less than does the decentralist model of redundancies and decentralized checks for disease control. In a totally-privatized society, each airport and local security operation would be likely to insist on checks for disease control. How this would be done exactly would be, as Walter Block often says "an entrepreneurial problem" to solve, but it would  nonetheless be likely that travel safety would be more complex in a privately-owned world. And in our case, it would also be more likely to contain epidemics since a failure at one point in the system would not lead to a complete system failure as is likely under the current system.

What would "President Rothbard" do right now? Well, it's reasonable to assume that President Rothbard would immediately lift all federal regulations prohibiting airlines and local airports from making their own decisions on controlling flights in and out, and who would be free to travel, and he would make it clear that localities, airlines, and airports are responsible for coordinating with other airports for security purposes. If disease were to spread within a particular state (say, Georgia) neighboring states would be free to cut off all travel from that state, or to cut off certain individuals from travel. President Rothbard would refuse to use the Justice Department to prosecute state governments that cut off travel of certain persons or of people overall. The edicts of the supreme court on the matter would be irrelevant since President Rothbard would refuse to send in the national guard and federal troops/police with assault rifles to force compliance with SCOTUS rulings.

Hope argentinians are ready to accept Freedom in the form of mandatory medical examinations whenever you step off an airplane

[ndbookstudy]

Master Of Self Realization - An Ultimate Understanding, Sri siddharameshwar maharaj, part 1 - ch. 2 (pg 35 - 52)

part 1

Once upon atime, there lived a man named “Gomaji Ganesh” who lived in a town called Andheri. At one point in time, this man established a custom in the Courts of Law that no order or document could be accepted as legal unless it bore a stamp with his name on it, along with the words “The Brass Door.” From that point on, all of the officials of that town only accepted a document as being legal if it bore the stamp of “Gomaji Ganesh, The Brass Door.”

This procedure for making documents legal continued for a long time until eventually the stamp officially became part the legal system of the City of Andheri, and no one ever enquired as to just whom this “Gomaji Ganesh” was. As time passed, it happened that one day an important document that did not bear the official stamp of “Gomaji Ganesh, The Brass Door’ was cited as evidence.

As time passed, it happened that one day an important document that did not bear the official stamp of "Gomaji Ganesh, The Brass Door" was cited as evidence in a case filed in the Court of Law. Except for the fact that this document did not have the official stamp, it was otherwise completely legal according to all other points of law and ordinary procedure. At one point in the case, an objection was raised that the document should not be accepted as evidence because it did not bear the official stamp of “Gomaji Ganesh, The Brass Door.”

At that point, a courageous man who was a party to the lawsuit argued before the judge that the document was perfectly valid because it bore all of the relevant signatures of the current government officials. He argued “Why should the document not be admissible if it is otherwise perfectly legal except that it does not bear the stamp of Mr. Gomaji Ganesh? Thus, he questioned the legality of the stamp itself. Consequently, the legality of the stamp was made an issue of contention. Until that day, no one had ventured to bring this issue before a Court of Law. Since it had now arisen for the first time, it was decided that a decision should be made regarding the legality of this stamp.

Out of curiosity about how the procedure of the stamp of “The Brass Door’ came to be put in place, the judge himself took the matter in hand for inquiry. When his inquiry was completed, he discovered that many years in the past, a man of no particular status, a Mr. Gomaji Ganesh, had taken advantage of the badly administered government of his day, and put his own name ona stamp that was to be used for all official documents. From that time onward, all government officials simply continued following the tradition blindly. In fact, the judge discovered that Mr. Gomaji Ganesh was a man of no importance whatsoever, who had no authority of any kind. When the judge made this discovery, a decision was made by the Court that the stamp was no longer necessary for legal documents. Since that day, the stamp was looked upon with ridicule.

In the same way, we should inquire about the sense of “I,” and how it dominates everything with stamp of “I,” and “mine,” just like the stamp of Mr.Gomaji Ganesh described in the above story. It is a general rule, or principle in nature, that if two things are combined, some new third thing is produced.

For example by the contact of a piece of thread with flowers, a garland is produced that did not previously exist. Even the names of the parent objects whose contact was responsible for producing the garland, disappear as soon as the garland comes into existence. The gardland then comes to be known by its own label. The labels of “flowers” and “thread” become extinct, and the new name of “garland” is used, and with that new name, further action takes place. With the contact of earth and water, mud arises as the labels “earth” and “water” become extinct. In much the same way, stones, bricks, mud, and mason come together, and a third thing called a “wall” stands before our eyes, while the stones, bricks, mud, and the mason simply vanish from our sight.

It is by the coming together of Knowledge and Ignorance that a peculiar thing called the “intellect” comes into existence, and it is through this “intellect” that the contact with the world emerges. Gold and goldsmith come together and produce a third thing that appears before our eyes as an ornament. The ornament is seen, and the gold and the goldsmith are forgotten. As a matter of fact, if anyone was to try to find out if there is anything such as “ornament” inside the gold, one would see nothing but gold. If we tell someone to bring an ornament without touching the gold, what could he bring? The thing we call an ornament would simply vanish.

In the same way, out of the union of Brahman and Maya (Illusion), the thief called “I” has come along proudly saying “I,” and raising its head proclaiming sovereignty over both Brahman and Maya. This “I,” or ego, is a barren woman’s (Maya’s) son, who tries to establish unlimited sovereignty over the entire universe. If we observe the parents of this “I,” it is clear that it is impossible for them to give birth to such a child. The mother of the child is Maya, who does not exist. From the womb of this Maya, the “I” has come forth. It is supposed to have been produced by the “Life-Energy.” Yet, this Life-Energy (Brahman) has no gender, and does not even claim to possess “doership,” so the readers can imagine what kind of an “I” this is.

As described above, the existence of “I” is only in name. Yet, like Mr.Gomaji Ganesh, he announces his name everywhere as “I.” He goes around saying ‘I am wise, I am great, I am small,” all the while having forgotten from where he came. Instead, he starts glorifying himself as “I” like the cat who laps up milk with its eys closed, not aware of the stick that is ready to strike him from the rear. As soon as he accepts a right, or a privilege, he must also accept the responsibility that goes along with it. As soon as one says, ‘l am the doer of a certain act,” that “I” must enjoy the fruits of such action. Enjoyment and suffering of the fruits, or results, of action are tied to the action itself, and the identification as the doer.

Actually, there exists nothing like an “I.” The entire doership that is the motivating force behind the “I” is contained solely in Brahman. However, Brahman is so smart, the moment that he finds someone who takes pride in “doership,” he leaves all responsibility for the actions on the head of that “I” and remains unattached.

Consequently, the poor “I” is destined to revolve on the wheel of birth and death. In the example of the garland mentioned above, the name “garland” came forward after the names “flowers” and “thread” were forgotten. When the garland dries up, nobody says that the flowers have dried up, they say the garland has dried up, or if the thread snaps, they say the garland has snapped. This indicates that the “doership” of the original object is imposed upon the third object due to the pride, or identification with the object. In the same way, a series of miseries strike the non-existent “I.” If one wants to get free from this misery, he must leave the “I.” However, before it is left off, one has to find out exactly where this “I” resides. It is only when we find the “I,” that we can talk about leaving it off.

[sapphyreopal5]

Hi! I’m skeptic when it comes to paranormal. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not dismissing your tarot and pendulum readings. I have seen coffee horoscopes come true; but I’m still having a hard time accepting something that can’t be rationally and scientifically explained so here’s my question have your tarot readings ever come true? And I mean solid ones not reading to much into some events and trying to attribute them to readings.

Hello Anon, thank you for the ask. I've had plenty of both tarot readings and pendulum readings come true, and I've also had some that were pretty revealing. I've had some skeptical people send in requests for readings done with them withholding pertinent information, although I do not wish to elaborate on what those details are or who these people are out of respect for their privacy. A lot of the readings I've given people from tarot and pendulum readings (I use my pendulum and printable abc chart when I'm giving a tarot reading fyi) did reveal things that ended up being true that weren't a 50/50 shot or even a matter of multiple choice. My readings are more detailed than generic "coffee horoscope" readings that could apply to anything (or "read too much into things") to make the real broad statements applicable, as you are talking about here. I've come across and heard of con artists of "psychics" and also ones that have downright misled people almost tragically so too. I've elaborated on many things to help make sense of things and connect the dots but that would make this post too long.

It is not absolutely not my job to convince people the "supernatural" exists or happens. If someone doesn't believe what I have to say, that is perfectly fine. I don't make money with readings I do nor do I want compensation, I simply make posts about my readings and that is that. Take it or leave it. I also cherry pick the crap out of who I decide to assist. Why? There are a lot of people who frankly don't want help, they just are time wasters who want to hear what they want to hear instead of hearing the truth. I will however say this: Based on what I do know about "the other side" and have made some posts about, it's extremely foolish of these "ghost hunters" and other "paranormal researchers" to keep going to these said "haunted places" and such in the name of "proving the other side exists". It does not matter how much physical evidence is out there (videos, photos, detailed diary entries, etc.).

It does not matter how truthful people are with their own personal accounts, people will always dismiss these things until it happens to them point blank and will use everything in the book to deny the legitimacy of these accounts because of the bad apples out there. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof right? Wrong. I say in this case, let people learn things the hard way with their own eyes and physical senses. They got plenty of videos and photos to go through, people are NOT entitled to proof the other side exists. Everyone will see the truth for themselves whether they're physically still alive or after they physically die period. Seeing is believing....

Why many of these self declared "skeptical" and "rational" people insist on cherry picking when diary entries, videos, photos, etc. work as proof and when they don't is a bit beyond me. If diary entries, videos, photos, etc. are requested for psychological diagnoses, disease diagnoses, etc. at times and in determining behavioral and physical patterns, why is this acceptable proof of something "abnormal" going on in this case but it is not when it comes to so called "paranormal experiences"? Sometimes these people are in fact less "skeptical" and less "rational" because they blindly believe what they are told is fact by "established organizations" like the government, scientific studies, etc. that have proven time and time again they do not always tell us everything they know or have outright lied in the name of "financial" or "self-protective" interests.

Am I saying all scientific studies are incorrect? Am I saying that one community is entirely wrong and the other is entirely correct? I am saying none of these things, as I know the truth is somewhere in the middle as is often the case with really anything. I am not saying you are one of these people who blindly believe what they are told Anon, as I do appreciate you sending in this ask even if you do not believe in divination. At the end of the day, people do not believe in these things until it happens to them. That's just how most people are, it's human nature. They have to learn things exist (or see things are not quite what they seem) when they see it and feel it with their own eyes. A lot of the so called "rationale" people have for dismissing these things could in fact be used to disprove really any of their own everyday experiences. I will say that when multiple physical senses are involved with things (ex. seeing and touching, smelling and touching, feeling nauseated and coughing while seeing new surroundings, etc.), this is when you know something is definitely happening. But then again, as Mark Twain once said "Life is but a dream" and therefore everything we see is just "our perception", right? This type of philosophy by the way I do not believe to be true, this is just a way to gaslight and brainwash people on a psychological level.

Thank you for the ask Anon. I apologize if this may come across in a negative way, I merely was simply trying to address my stance on what many self labeled skeptics say that tend to outright dismiss the truthful, consistent experiences because of the bad apples out there. Truth is stranger than fiction...

[dumbledore-and-grindelwald]

Did you notice that Theseus seem to age in this movie? At the beginning, when he was on the train, he looked shining fresh and beautiful. By the time we get to the fight scene with Theseus and Lally Hicks, he looked worn out. He had dark circles under his eyes, he looked like a totally different person. It was like everything he believed in was gone.

I like the political part of this movie, because it is a perfect example of how Hitler took over Europe. People in Europe did not know how powerful Hitler was until it was too late to stop him. Hitler was literally waling into their front doors, by the time they realized what was happening.

Theseus represents these people who did not know what was going on, until he went to that German prison. I really think that Dumbledore real reason for sending them to Germany was so that Theseus could get his head out of the sand and see what is really going on. I think that was the real reason he sent them to Berlin. To try to wake Theseus up.

Theseus represents all the people who blindly follow their government and don't see the reality of the situation. That is why by the time they got to Bhutan; Theseus look like a completely different person. Everything he believed in was a fantasy, and reality of what is really going on had set in. The Ministery, Helmet who he thought was his friend, the wizarding government itself was a fantasy.

The only thing he had left was Newt and this group of people who were on this mission with him. That is why I think Theseus and Lally Hicks will end up together, because she is part of his new reality. For years Theseus loyalty was to the Ministery, that was a fantasy. Every though he still works at the Ministry, he doesn't see them the same way, he is not following orders blindly.

I agree with a lot of this. There are a few points I disagree with.

Theseus is never portrayed as someone who followed orders blindly. For example, in CoG Travers who was his superior did not trust Albus. But Albus asked Theseus to keep his men from engaging with Grindelwald's followers at the rally instead of trying to break it and Theseus followed Albus' advice because he saw the sense in it. Even when he tells Newt that he's being watched by the ministry, he's going against orders. But despite applying his own judgement, he trusts the system. He sees it may not be perfect, but he sees it as functional and he cannot imagine how deeply it can be corrupt.

He wants to know what is happening. He wants to have a picture of the plan and for it to be something he finds logical and approves. That’s why Albus had to partly open up as a gesture of good faith, to make Theseus place his trust in him even though it’s a gamble. 

Theseus understood that individuals can be corrupted, but he hadn’t grasped that they are at the point of entire systems possibly falling apart, which is what he witnessed when he saw an entire ministry falling under Grindelwald’s sway and was captured by people he considers colleagues.I don’t think his loyalty in the ministry has changed. He is simply more aware of how radical things can get. Albus primary reason for wanting Theseus was probably that he and Newt are ride or die for each other, that he coulld convince him to join because of his loyalty to his brother, and that they needed someone with ministry rank for the gang to easily get accepted into the gathering at Germany to deliver the message. |I don’t  think it was just meant to be a harsh lesson, even though he was aware of pieces moving and that Theseus was in for a cold splash of reality.

I’m not certain Theseus will survive the war. IF he does, I can definitely see him with Lally. But I wonder if, while Albus is still procrstinating and not going to openly duel Gellert, Theseus ends up dead. 

[wack-ashimself]

Celebrity/fandom/political/rich people worship is destroying the human race.

Celebrity-you make them higher than god, see even their bad movies/products (making huge companies bigger), and think they can do no wrong AND THEY EXPLOIT THAT! How many products do celebs sell/endorse they have NO REAL experience in? People know they can use their fans! And sports are stupid. Fuck all athletes. Being in shape and doing something fast doesn't make the world get better ever. NEVER!

Fandom-unless it's for some underground, small thing, it's owned by a rich large company, and you blindly supporting them makes them richer. They care NOTHING of your fandom, only your wallet. Look at star trek. It's fucking awful.

Political-only this ONE person can do the right thing (when majority have believed that for HUNDREDS of years, and it has only gotten worse. There are more bad apples than good...) Also, putting blind faith into a government owned by the rich (oligarchy)...not the smartest idea.

Rich people-they ALL stole their wealth. 60% of all wealth WORLDWIDE is inherited, for GENERATIONS. And if you go back to when they first 'earned' it, they killed/stole it. A VAST MAJORITY of the time. Fuck-the new president of the Philippines's family ROBBED AND KILLED tons, fled, and now a few decades later EVERYONE forgot, and then they voted their son into full power...when they only returned like 1/10 of what they stole! NO ONE DOES A BILLION DOLLARS WORTH OF WORK. THEY STEAL IT WHILE WE DO ALL THE WORK!

Just...kill all your heroes. Kill your culture. That doesn't mean forget it all. It means take the bits and pieces you like, that help you better understand and appreciate the world, and get rid of the rest that is garbage. Which is most of it.

You can like tom hanks's movies, but accept he went to child rape murder island.

You can like star wars, but admit disney ruined it, raped it, and the books were better.

You can like bernie, but point out he has basically never openly went against ANY war bill. Meaning he has blood on his hands.

And you can say musk is interesting...but acknowledge he is a BULLY and that's how he got most of what he has (slave labor, digital banking, forcing his way into tesla, then paying for all electric car repairs as long as they sign an NDA so they won't tell people how BAD they really are.)

Just...make sure you know where the line is, or you'll be regularly accidentally crossing it...

[squidwardontheside]

Being human season two is the inverse of its first season. Having established that all forms of monstrosity are human at the core, we now must delve into the monstrosity that is harbored in the human soul. Annie’s decision to not pass on is challenged by the supernatural forces that govern the afterlife. George struggles to cope with the damage his lycanthropy has done to his most recent relationships and Mitchell strains under the pressure to lead the local vampire community.

Annie’s condition does not have much in the way of evil. She cannot interact with the world and therefore cannot do much harm. It is the people around her that seek to do her harm, either from religious fanaticism or because they are under the thrall of the men with sticks and rope. We see this in Saul, who is as human as any audience member but through his actions proves himself no better than an animal unable to resist the influence of mysterious men on television. He is evil because he blindly trusts an evil influence and allows it to work through him. He ultimately is only able to resist their commands after his death, the loss of his humanity gives him the compassion to stand up to evil in a way he could not as a human.

George’s attempts to form new relationships are feeble and half hearted mask for the grief he feels at the loss of his relationship with Nina. He behaves monstrously to the people he interacts with, lying and even putting them at risk by not managing his condition effectively. The humanity of his emotions in this case fuels his monstrosity. This is shown against a backdrop of unpleasant humans who beg us the question: why do we want to be like them? The school master is a petty tyrant, George’s new girlfriend is an impressionable idiot desperate for acceptance. Humanity here is as ugly and flawed as lycanthropy.

Mitchell, having conquered his own bloodlust, is now tasked with helping the vampires of Bristol to do the same. A heroic task on paper, the compromises that this requires of him prove too much to bear and he relapses in gorey vampire fashion. It is a human evil that drives him to it. First he must execute one of his own to cement his power. Then he must blackmail the coroner into covering up slips. He has to let his sobriety poster boy feed in secret to make the rehab program legitimate. Every obstacle he faces must be compromised and compartmentalized because the alternative is chaos. He can’t let the vampires feel at random. He can’t let them be lead by another extremist like herrik. Only he can do the job but the job requires the sacrifice of the humanity he worked so hard to achieve. When he is finally given the out he craves, with all of the pieces in place, nothing left to organize, he is betrayed by the human woman he confided in. His relapse is the result of deliberate provocation by an evil that cannot recognize itself.

Nina makes the same mistake as Saul: she trusts in evil and enacts its will out of misplaced faith in something she does not understand. Saul trusts the voices of the afterlife because they were supernatural and Nina trusts father Kemp and Lucy jaggat because they are human. Both Saul and Nina betray their lovers, Saul out of weak mindedness and Nina out of self loathing. Without the ability to accept herself or George as human, she is vulnerable to the hatred of others. The inability to accept the humanity of our main trio is the true evil this season. It is the constable’s lack of faith in the vampires that pushes Mitchell to kill again, Lucy and Kemp’s attempted murder that sends him in the path to revenge, and their superiority that allows them to kill werewolves without guilt. It is human rage and hatred that drives kemp to exorcize Annie against her wishes, a desire to punish Mitchell and George for their perceived monstrosity. True evil is found in the desire to ascribe it to others.

[agape-philo-sophia]

➝ “In The Private”.

EVERY natural man and woman is born “in the private”. Whereas the State is public, and therefore its Public Servants, and its legal fiction creations are “in the public”, including its artificial legal “persons”.

A man or woman can either “live” “in the private”, or “act” “in the public”. However ...

We are trained from an early age to accept a higher authority as normal. Most people exist in a culture of submission and conformity, allowing numerous aspects of their lives to be controlled by the Government. The populace is manipulated to become dependent (debt-money), and conditioned to become fearful (racism, terrorism, and wars). The manner and appearance of “authority” is usually intimidating by design, while the language of legal fiction commerce (Legalese) is deceptive.

You are indoctrinated to “act” in the “role” of an artificial legal “person”, which is a creation of the State and a debtor serving as “surety” for the corporate debt of YOURNATION (INC.).

Every nation with a Central Bank under the Bank for International Settlements has been indebted by the “incorporation” of its government into the debt-money system, thereby surrendering its power of sovereign money issuance.

A global system of debt-bondage has been established by “incorporating” governments, and by programming the people to “act” in the fictional “roles” of “artificial persons”, which as legal fictions having no innate productive capacity, are debtors by default, serving as “transmitting utilities” for human energy.

An artificial legal “person” is a dead entity. It is a legal fiction “persona” in the “theatre of commerce”, and it is under the foreign Admiralty Maritime Jurisdiction, the international “Law of the Sea”. On the contrary, you are born into your own sovereign Estate of body, mind, and soul. As a sentient man or woman you live within the sovereign Common Law Jurisdiction, the national “Law of the Land”.

The “Common Law” follows “Natural Law”, a living system of “right or justice” held to be common to all humans and derived from Nature rather than from the rules of society. In “Natural Law”, all people are born equal and endowed with unalienable rights.

Your sovereign jurisdiction, including your inborn Unalienable Rights, cannot be taken from you without your fully informed and willing consent.

Legal “person” “actors” for incorporated governments, banks, and all corporate entities, need to contract with other legal “person” “actors” to extract their “commercial energy”.

These legal “actors” make the PRESUMPTION that you are also “acting” in the “role” of a legal “person” in “legal fiction” commerce, which is why they are seeking a contract “performance”. They ALWAYS want the NAME and often the creation date of the legal “person” to establish “joinder”, forming an “adhesion contract”. They NEED A “PERSON”, because there is absolutely no way they can contract directly with a living man or woman. They need a man or woman to CONSENT TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY IN THE MATTER OF THE “PERSON”, unknowingly or knowingly, which is JOINDER.

In this way, a man or woman becomes party to the action involving the “person”, which is “joinder” of the parties into a single case in legal fiction commerce.

When a living name is “mirrored” by the registration of an artificial legal “person” on the Birth Certificate, an Estate Trust is formed, such as MR JOHN DOE TRUST. Any living man or woman unknowingly in JOINDER to such a legal fiction NAME blindly takes responsibility for the alleged debts of the Trust as its Trustee. Whereas an aware living man or woman can separate themselves from the legal fiction NAME and become the rightful controlling Agent, Beneficiary, Executor/Executrix for MR JOHN DOE TRUST.

Legal “actors” will attempt to engage the “person” by posting letters, by phone, or on the highway, to make and enforce a contract. Misrepresenting a living man or woman as a fictional “person” causing unwitting “joinder” is the crime of “personage”, and it is perpetuated by “barratry”, the crime of bringing false claims in court. The term “barratry”, appropriately, comes from the “Bar Association”.

Under the Common Law Jurisdiction (Law of the Land), both parties must enter into every contract “knowingly”, “voluntarily”, and “intentionally”, or the contract is unenforceable and void.

However, under the Admiralty Maritime Jurisdiction (Law of the Sea), consent to contract is often presumed by silent acquiescence, unless the party contracted thereby rebuts the presumption of consent.

If you do not wish to consent to their contract offer (presentment), you must Rebut The Presumption that you are “acting” in the “role” of a fictional legal “person”.

Maxim of Law: Quid fas non veritas est. Legality is not Reality.

The first step is to separate yourself from the legal fiction. If you answer to the artificial legal “person” NAME, you contract by “joinder” to become a liable debtor. However, if you “stand” truthfully as a “man” or “woman”, not “acting” as an artificial legal “person”, the two are separated.

Because of years of conditioning, it takes time to separate the legal fiction from reality, in your mind and in the real world. A powerful and lawful approach is simply to verify everything.

You are never obliged to answer questions or to provide government issued ID. Truly, to uphold your government of the People, it is not your duty to answer questions, it is your duty to ask questions. You have the Right to know who is making a claim against you, the Right to know who the injured party is, the Right to conditionally accept any claim against you upon verification, the Right to reserve your rights without prejudice, and thereafter the Right to remain silent to avoid self-incrimination.

By failing to exercise their Rights, the People have been betrayed, and have allowed their governance to be turned against them, so that the People have been “monetized”. The original offices of de jure unincorporated government institutions have been usurped, and are mostly unoccupied by de jure public servants working for the People in a de jure public capacity. The “public” State has been captured by financial piracy, and has become a commercial enterprise, operating by contract under the Admiralty Maritime jurisdiction (Law Merchant), in the international Law of the Sea.

The following definitions apply to the de facto incorporated State, in which the agencies of government, and all artificial legal “persons”, are merely corporate franchises.

Private: To be “in the private” is to “live” in a “private capacity” as a Man or Woman, with flesh and blood, arms and legs, a conscious mind, a spirit, and Life. All Men and Women are created as equal Sovereigns, endowed with Unalienable Rights and Properties, including Credit equating to their valuable human energy. As natural Men and Women, they are Creditors, because they are born naturally with innate productive capacities. Their right to contract is Unlimited, and they have unlimited liability, being responsible adults. They are outside and above the State. From Latin privatus “set apart, belonging to oneself (not to the state)”.

Public: To be “in the public” is to “act” in a “public capacity” as an “accommodation party” in “joinder” to an “artificial person” created and governed by the State. All Men and Women who “act” in legal fiction “roles” for the State are granted revocable Privileges and Benefits prescribed in legislative “Acts”. As Artificial Persons, they are Debtors, because they are created legally without innate productive capacities. Their right to contract is Limited, and they have limited liability, being legally incompetent “creatures of the State”, its legal children. They are inside and under the State. From Latin publicus “of the people; of the state; done for the state”.

[dallasareaopinion]

We have crisis, we have hostage taking, we have headlines, we have economic collapse, yet what we don’t have

is something better.

We got compromise and no one and everyone cheers.

And that my friends is the problem. It took a compromise of bad ideas to solve a major issue or problem and yet the problem is not solved, just kicked down the road two years and sooner or later another crisis whether real or media driven will make headlines again. 

Do we need to reign in our spending? Yes we do. Do we need to take care of the poor? Yes we do. Does our military need to dominate our budget? No, but we need one. Do we spend too much on healthcare? Yes we do. Are we healthy? Not by a long shot. Can our high school graduates look forward to their future? Yes they do, but not because we are doing them any favors. They have to make their own future in spite of what we have done. And it appears we have left them some tough sailing. Can our high school graduates feel good about their education? Not really and that really falls on society.  Does anyone feel good about what our government is doing? You can answer that one.

To me, we should and could be doing better, but as long as we accept the crap thrown at us day in and day, better ain’t happening.

We let the fringe, the radicals, the far side of each side dominate what happens to us in society. And even the fringe, the radicals, and the far side of each obtain no benefit from what they do or want or say.

Why is better so hard? Some social scientists will try and tell us an answer or even I will find something or someone to blame. 

We can make better cars or better TVs or better sports teams, but making us better, too much work. Or people tend to think so. 

Is it a matter of common sense? Or is it deep philosophical thinking that will produce the answers? Or should we just turn the planet over to artificial intelligence and let it go? Build robots for the robots until they can build them themselves?

No to either of the above, but we do need to do something different. And what is different? And for some people better is a pejorative term because they would rather complain than find what might actually work. It does take effort to be better or make something better, even a better washer and dryer means something has to be studied, researched, models have to be tested to make sure it is better before selling it. So making government or society better, sheesh, that is some serious work. 

If the human race was an experiment, exactly what is the expected outcome? Or is the expected outcome that we figure all this out on our own?

Whatever the answer, what just happened with the debt limit should not have been the answer. I don’t know if blindly raising the debt limit solves the problem, but blindly accepting a compromised answer is not the answer either.

We are smart people, heck we built smart phones, yet better elude ourselves consistently. There are better answers, but until we decide we really want better,  it will elude us no end. 

On a side note I could think of a thousand ways to have handled that crisis differently and so could you, it is ourselves that prevent us from success. Public policy is just making things better for the public or at least it should be. Why is it so complicated when actual productive answers are written down every day?

Next time you think about the whole of us as humans, as society, as a country, think what you can do for someone else because that is the start of better.  Or am I rephrasing John Kennedy too readily, but hey not such a bad idea if put into practice no matter how phrased or at what level.

Cheers

[theliterateape]

I'm No More Anti-Woke Than I am Anti-Christian

by Don Hall

Much to my mother's chagrin, I'm not a Christian. She is both a devoted follower of Jesus Christ and a Searcher for Truth through that lens. Mom is the kind of Christian you want all of them to be—compassionate rather than empathetic, service oriented rather than parochial, studious rather than blindly accepting.

In my experience, there are three sorts of Christians: the overly enthusiastic but dimwitted, the sort my mom represents, and those who didn't get the memo that the Puritans were assholes.

The first type are easy to spot. They are constantly reminding you how blessed they are and end at least three out of four sentences with a "Praise Jesus" and a like upward. This is some serious performance whether the faith is there or not. I dated a young woman who started in on the nonstop Jesus referencing on the first date so I took her to see Videodrome. We didn't date after that.

The second are like my mother and are the reason people with no faith but in need of something uplifting in their lives wander into churches to see what's up. They are the ones who actually practice what the Prophet preached, witnessing their faith through example rather than words, and generally are the ones showing up to help with the homeless, the hungry, and the otherwise societally deprived.

The third are the Karens of the world regardless of age or skin color. They are the Gladys Kravitz's, the busybodies minding everyone else's business, looking to get those not in lockstep with their agenda punished. This is one punitive crowd. They sell the idea that their belief both makes them superior to everyone else and also in charge of doling out judgment for those who are obviously not with their program.

I am not a Christian but I am not Anti-Christian, either. I used to be a believer, changed my mind, and believe that everyone gets to make his or her own choices when regarding a deity as long as they don't try to force that belief down the throats of everyone else. I'm not a fan of the type of believer who hates homosexuals, transgender people, and thinks women should be subservient but I'm no fan of anyone like this, whether they blame it on their faith or not.

My third ex-wife loves sushi. I do not. Yes, I explained to her more than a few times, I have tried sushi a number of times (always the odd chance of getting some bad sushi so you give a shot in other places, right?) and I can conclude that I do not like sushi. That didn't make me anti-sushi. I took her to sushi places once in awhile and found things to eat—plastic plants, soy sauce, and teriyaki stuff—and never gave her any sort of flack for enjoying something I did not. If she insisted I eat sushi, we'd have had an issue.

This is the same space I occupy when it comes to religion and dogmatics. You do you. I certainly don't know even a fraction of things worth knowing in life so who the fuck am I to tell you differently. I've tried religion and, like sushi, it didn't take. My mom is pretty brilliant in this way. She doesn't press her faith upon me, doesn't shame me for not believing. She exists as a devoted Christian, she prays for me (it certainly can't hurt), and shares with me epiphanies she has from her copious study of her faith. I don't have to believe the way she does because, you know, soy sauce and teriyaki.

I am not Anti-Woke. I am anti-bully. I'm anti-Puritan. I'm anti-censoriousness and anti-race exceptionalism.

I can believe one on hand that all transgender people deserve the exact same rights and autonomy as every other citizen and on the other hand believe that a transgender woman is not a woman but a transgender woman (similar but not at all the same). This does not make me anti-woke or transphobic. It makes me pro-science and civil rights and anti-fantasy.

I can believe that African Americans whose forebears were saddled with slavery have been cheated by the American government and that centuries of bigotry have given them every right to demand (and see substantive) change and still recognize that African American immigrants in the past fifty years are in the top tier of economic wealth so the issue is about culture rather than skin color. I believe culture is a costume and can be exchanged for one that serves the wearer better.

Like Bill Burr, I believe women 87% of the time. The other 13% are psychos, sociopaths, and assholes.

It all really depends on what is meant by woke. When I hear the term used, I hear religious. I see intolerance. I am confronted with those three types of Christians. The first wear t-shirts and make a lot of noise about JK Rowling being transphobic, that white people are default racist, and that compromise is a waste of time. The second type are almost exactly like my mom—compassionate, forgiving, leading by example rather than insistence. The third type are all on Twitter and go out of their way to punish those who might disagree with their worldview by mobbing up and trying to get them fired.

Really, at the end of it, I'm anti-conformist across the board and if conformity of thought and practice is what you seek, leave me out of it, gang.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hey! I love your meta’s, a little while ago you talked about The Order of the Phoenix as an organization could you talk about the Death Eaters?

The post anon is referencing.

TL;DR the Order is incompetently hilarious and Dumbledore is a man who trusts no one.

Oh, the Death Eaters, what to say about the Death Eaters...

In a World Without Voldemort, They'd Probably Be Arsonists

One of the things JKR implies in the series, and something fandom seems to take for granted, is that Tom Riddle is the ultimate corrupting influence.

Were it not for him, the Wizarding World would be a much better place, and people like Bellatrix LeStrange would be productive members of society.

As soon as he is killed, even, by Harry, the good guys win, their problems all presumably solved, and Harry tells his son Albus Severus that it's totally fine if he's put into Slytherin.

I don't believe that though.

To me, it's not so much that Tom Riddle corrupted these people, but that he gave them an organized cause. The people themselves, oh, they were itching for a fight.

In a world without Tom I think they'd be a loosely, poorly organized, group (probably with Bellatrix as the ring leader) where they commit acts of domestic terrorism probably involving burning offensive shops to the ground or attacking muggleborns, halfbloods, and blood traitors.

Voldemort, to me, is designed to pander to them (and not the other way around).

The Death Eaters' Beginnings

So, first off, I think Tom's goals are not what he says they are. What he represents to his followers is exactly what they want to hear, wrapped in a grandiose theatric bow that they just love.

But how did this all start?

First, I don't believe in the Knights of Walpurgis. Instead I think Tom came relatively out of nowhere in the 70's uses parseltongue to prove his heritage as the Heir of Slytherin and thus of purer blood than any of them.

He throws these exciting rallies/parties that the rebellious, angsty, teenage heirs all go to. There he says everything they wanted to hear in the most eloquent manner they've ever heard, promises them the action that their fathers have never delivered, promises them a role in the glorious revolution and a place in history, and probably offers them mounds of cocaine.

All the Death Eaters we see, or the core of them, appear to be in this age range where they'd be in Hogwarts or just out of it when Voldemort came knocking. I can imagine they're all whipped up with excitement, YEAH LET'S BLOW UP THE MUDBLOODS and for some that's great, for others... things don't go the way they expected.

October 31, 1981: It All Falls Apart

Regulus famously steals Tom's horcrux. I imagine it wasn't so much that he learned the error of his ways but that he saw what Tom Riddle was really after: the destruction of his very society.

Lucius is riding high until October 31, 1981 and he sees the complete destruction of the entire Black family. Lucius' priorities greatly shift and as he grows older he prays Voldemort never returns. Unfortunately, Tom does, and he charges interest.

Bellatrix absolutely loses her mind, refuses to accept reality, and tries to torture the Longbottoms for information they do not possess. She is imprisoned in Azkaban and never truly recovers from this.

Snape ends up the cause of death for Lily Evans and must forever live with the guilt and be tied to her prophesied son. He also becomes Dumbledore's lackey forever, which ultimately gets him killed.

Point being, no one's having a good time. Some because they figure out being a Death Eater wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and others because they had the Voldemort rug pulled out from under their feet when Tom Riddle disappears.

Pettigrew flees and lives as the Weasley rat for nearly fifteen years.

They're left making a mad scramble as they try to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Canon Catches Up

More than ten years go by and then suddenly, in a muggle graveyard, the surviving Death Eaters discover that they are bound to Voldemort for the rest of their lives.

Death cannot stop this man and he has branded them: there's no escape.

Some are still enthusiastic supporters of the cause: Bellatrix is vindicated that her lord has returned, he rescues her from hell on earth, and everything's finally coming up Bella. Barty is similar in actively working for Voldemort's resurrection.

Lucius, meanwhile, lives in constant terror. Karkaroff desperately flees the country and hopes Tom will not find him. Snape, is in fact, Dumbledore's agent. Pettigrew only returned in utter desperation and has now cut off his own hand.

They're not the young men they were, some of them have families, to some of the past ten years have been utterly miserable. They have to watch as their children make the same damn mistakes they did, be sucked into this same hell hole, and there's nothing they can do about it.

There is a notable reluctance for the cause, and yet, they have to try with the same vigor or this madman will kill them all.

And it's all worthless anyway: come 1998, Voldemort dies again (perhaps for real this time, who knows, Harry Potter seems to think so for whatever reason) and then they are imprisoned for their acts as Death Eaters.

And they just laugh, because how badly Lucius wishes he could go back in time and tell his eighteen-year-old self, "YOU DUMB FUCK, LEAVE NOW!"

But Do They Learn Anything?

No.

Just because we see some of them regret being Death Eaters doesn't mean they regret their beliefs. Their beliefs were fine, even blowing up people here and there, a bit gauche but fine.

But maybe following Voldemort blindly was a bad idea.

Are They More Competent Than the Order?

No.

Tom Riddle is terrifyingly competent in that he infiltrates the government with ease, has spies everywhere, and all but proclaims himself minister one day and nobody blinks.

He gains the full support of most of the wizarding world's wealthiest and prestigious families.

But he doesn't actually give these people anything to do. Because there's nothing for them to do, with them, Tom's won. He owns the Wizengamot, the Ministry, everything.

There's no need to fight. It's over, there never was a war. Society is primed to accept Tom Riddle as their ruler.

However, the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange thinks there's a glorious war on, so "uh, go out and blow up a few muggles, have fun." And the young Death Eaters (and the older ones), think they've committed this great, daring, brave, and very important act.

Tom only seems to hand out real assignments when in desperate straits or else when being particularly vindictive.

Lucius, after messing up with the diary, is told to retrieve a prophecy he is not allowed to touch in a department of the ministry he should have no access to. If he fails: Tom kills his entire family. When Lucius does fail, Tom assigns his son to assassinate an already dying Dumbledore. These aren't real tasks, though they do have the appearance of one, and consequences for failure.

Barty, Tom is forced to rely on, as he is trapped in this dying infant's body. And better Barty, someone who is truly loyal and seems fairly clever, than Peter Pettigrew who is a miserable scum bag who'd sell his grandmother for a bar of soap.

Barty, of course, fucks this up. Rather than just kidnap Harry Potter at any of the many easy points this could be done (Hogsmeade trip, lure Harry out to Hogsmeade with super secret serial information about Voldemort/Snape being a Death Eater, etc.), Barty is determined to make use of the Triwizard Tournament to destroy his father's legacy.

This means rather than a few weeks, it takes months to kidnap Harry, and even then they bring along an extra boy who then gets killed and provides some evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned. (Somebody murdered Cedric). It takes months and Barty actively ensuring Harry makes it through the tournament and does well, leaving open the possibility that he might get caught helping Harry cheat at any moment. And of course, Barty has to pretend to be Madeye Moody for months, keeping his man locked and drugged in his trunk.

Thankfully, Moody's such a paranoid wreck, no one even notices.

Quirrell, Tom is forced to rely on. Quirrell fucks up, though admittedly not as badly as Barty. Quirrell fails to steal the stone when it's in transit/in Gringotts. He fails to murder Harry Potter, an eleven year old boy in the world's most dangerous school. He rouses Snape's suspicion almost immediately. Then of course he doesn't get the stone. He at least gets to the room with the stone and nearly overpowers Harry and gets it had he not been mysteriously lit on fire by the power of love/Lily Evans.

The only one Tom ever really relies on by choice is Snape. Snape is charged with spying on Dumbledore and later running Hogwarts (which he fucks up).

There is only one competent man in Britain: Severus Snape. Which is, of course, why he's a double agent that Dumbledore and Tom both extensively rely on despite his being a double agent.

There's no one else.

Tom Riddle doesn't make use of the Death Eaters but given they prove themselves enthusiastically incompetent at every turn I don't blame him. Just pretend to give them something to do and hope it makes them feel important.

That's all I've got in general, you want anything else you'll have to ask for something more specific.

[tessiete]

TESS! Hope you are well!!!! Prompts prompts prompts! If you’re not already inundated with requests, allow me to add my own greedy submission to the pile: “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?” for Qui-Gon and Obi if you feel up to it! 🤟🏼❤️

WELL HELLO FRIEND!! I absolutely feel up to it. I'm just, you know, bad at time management, so I apologise for the delay. Please accept my many, most sincerest thanks for sending the prooompt in the form of this....thing. What I wrote. SOME BABY-WAN WHUMP, AND DAD-CARE!

You're absolutely wonderful! THANK YOU!

On The Clock

The sun never sets on Coravian Bast. It says so on all their coins, and all their dataries. It is stamped at the summit of every federal building, and pressed into the plastoid casing of every holobook, every datapad, every speeder and tug and ship they manufacture. It is both an astronomical truth, and the rallying cry of a people who, for centuries, have remained proud, and strong, living beneath the ever-burning glory of their sun. But now, that sun is burning out.

It is not by sabotage, or ambition, or folly. It is not brought about by anything more malicious than the passage of time, and it is a tragedy which has been predicted now for many years. And for many years, the government of Coravian has been planning. With the aid of the Republic and the support of several high ranking senators, Coravian has made arrangements for the mass migration of their population to new homes on new worlds. The sun will set on Coravian Bast, but never on her people.

Yet some do not go willingly. Some resist the edicts, and declare they will not leave. Some declare that they do not mean to let anyone else go either, and for this reason, the Jedi Council has seen fit to assign a Master-Padawan pair capable of overseeing the evacuations. Up to now, the population has been peaceful. The protestors have been loud, but cautious. They do not expect anything of note to happen. Master Jinn gives his padawan a sardonic grin and suggests that perhaps someone will give an impassioned speech.

“Coravinians are known for their philosophical debates,” he says. “Nearly every city has an ampitherium. It’s like a park filled with tall platforms wide enough only to stand on, but tall enough to see over the head of a grown wookiee.”

“What do they do on them?” Obi-Wan asks, in awe.

“They talk,” his master says. “Sometimes for hours.”

“About what?”

“Oh, this and that,” he says. “The longest recorded was a discourse on the nature of sentience in ancient korarchetropes of the protopaleo era, four thousand four hundred million years ago.”

“Oh,” says Obi-Wan, his brow furrowed in thought. “Did the korarchetropes leave many written records?”

“No, my padawan,” replies Qui-Gon. “They were a primitive, single-celled form of life.”

“Oh.” There is a pause, longer and more uncertain than before. “Will we have to listen to one while we’re there?”

The master smiles. “Not unless you are particularly disobedient.”

“Then I’ll be on my best behaviour,” Obi-Wan swears with a smirk. “I promise.”

It is not a difficult thing for him to be, his master thinks, and indeed he is the very picture of deference and decorum during the two weeks they are there. Every day, he walks at his side, three steps behind and one to the left. He is unobtrusive, and observant. He speaks intelligently when spoken to, and remembers every obscure custom and tradition that their hosts play out in preparation for leaving the planet, and Qui-Gon is proud. His padawan has come such a long way from the desperate little waif he’d found on Bandomeer, and yet not so far as to have lost that youthful naivety, and trust in the world. He will make a fine Knight, if Qui-Gon is careful enough. If he is restrained enough. And cautious. And aware.

And yet, no sooner does he conclude this than all his plans are torn apart, for the next day, as they stand upon the viewing stage to watch another transport of refuges lift off and head for space, there is an attack. The Coravinians do not fight with words this time, but with bombs and grenades. A sonic blast throws him from the platform before he can draw his saber, and in another instant the remains of the stage goes up in flames and it is all he can do to leap free and regain his bearings.

One of the federal aides is dead, lying torn and bloodied a few feet away. Another staggers forward, coughing in the smoke. Obi-Wan. Where is Obi-Wan?

He searches around him, frantic, but there is nothing he can see except fire and ash. In desperation, he turns his focus inward to pluck at the little strand of light between them, hoping that it may ring out clearly even amidst the chaos. It is still new, and still very slight. The thread tremors beneath the weight of his mental touch, singing its note high and sweet and very much alive.

“Obi-Wan!” he cries out, surging forward, following the thread as it draws him along its path until he comes to a heap of steel and stone. He reaches out in the Force, and with his hands, scrabbling at the pile of debris. With a single thought, he moves a heavy cement boulder, and he pushes back twisted steel and rebar.

“Master!” It’s Obi-Wan, and his voice is strong and steady. “Master, under here!”

Qui-Gon can feel his own fear clogging his throat. It tastes like oil and charcoal, and he spits to clear it from his mouth, working as fast as he can to reach his padawan. A few more seconds, and he discovers a pocket of air beneath the scrap. A pale hand, smeared in soot reaches up through a gap, flailing blindly for purchase.

“Padawan!” he cries, and he falls over the rubble to catch that small hand in his own, feeling the soft palms, and smooth skin, as yet unweathered by age or strife. “Obi-Wan, are you alright?” he asks.

“Yes, master,” his padawan replies. “I think - only, I think I hit my head.”

“Are you bleeding?” He does his best to keep his voice steady. To stay calm. To leave the thread taut and unplucked in his mind. He strokes the back of Obi-Wan’s hand in comfort.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan says. “It’s dark down here. Master -?”

“I’ll get you out,” he says. His grip slackens, and for a moment, Obi-Wan’s tightens in reflex, afraid of letting go, but he quickly masters himself and allows Qui-Gon to slip away.

Relying more on brute strength than the Force, Qui-Gon tears at the rock until it falls away, and he can reach inside the cavern to pull Obi-Wan free. Whether Obi-Wan is lighter than Qui-Gon anticipates, or whether his arms are fuelled with terror and fear, his padawan comes out of the rubble with enough momentum that he is sent staggering into his master’s arms, nearly falling to his knees. But Qui-Gon catches him, sets him aright, and is soon crouched before him, running his hands up and down his arms, over his shoulders and back, and along his scalp searching for injuries.

He finds one just above Obi-Wan’s left ear, hidden in his hairline. But even his thick, tawny tuffets cannot disguise the slick of blood, and his padawan winces as his fingers skim over the open wound.

“Anywhere else?” he demands.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “No, master,” he says, but his legs buckle, and his fingers clench around Qui-Gon’s forearms as he tries to resist the pull of nausea in his gut.

Qui-Gon frowns. “We need to get you to a medcentre.”

“No, master!” Obi-Wan protests. “The bombers. They’ll get away!”

“Little One, there is no chance they are anywhere close enough to be found. That is the purpose of a bomb. Did you feel anything amiss in the Force before it detonated?”

“No,” he says.

“Then you understand,” he replies. “If they were near, they would have surely stood out in a sea of otherwise placid civilians.”

“But still -”

“No,” the master insists. “You must be tended to first. You will not help me if you collapse while in pursuit of ghosts. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but he nods, his chin dropping to his chest, and his fingers flexing in the folds of Qui-Gon’s robes.

“Now, stay close, and follow me,” says Qui-Gon. He straightens again, peering through the smoke to find salvation. The wind has picked up. The ringing in his ears has stopped. He can hear the cries of dozens of injured people, but none that are near enough for him to help. Some ways away, he sees the ash of the explosion recede and finds sunny daylight beyond. With one hand to guide his student at the elbow, he makes for that.

Obi-Wan stumbles along, tripping over rock and rubble. With each step, he grows more and more uncoordinated. To Qui-Gon it seems as though he is half carrying him before they’ve gone more than a hundred yards.

“Master,” Obi-Wan mumbles, as his toe catches on a stone and his legs give out. He hardly makes any effort to save himself, but his fall is aborted by Qui-Gon’s hand at his arm. “Master, I don’t feel very well. I’d like to lie down.”

“Not yet, Obi-Wan,” he says, between gritted teeth. In the distance, he can make out a mass of emergency responders, all frantically attempting to organise the pandemonium into something civil and orderly. He drags his padawan on.

“M’sleepy,” Obi-Wan protests. And then, as if to prove his claim, his head drops and the full weight of his body swings into Qui-Gon, hinged at his arm where his master supports him still.

Qui-Gon grabs him around the middle, and attempts to prop him up, giving him a little shake. Obi-Wan’s head rolls on his neck, his eyelids fluttering as he fights for consciousness.

“Stay awake,” Qui-Gon urges. Obi-Wan frowns. “Stay awake. Listen to me. Obi-Wan?”

“I’m listening, master…” he insists, but the words come out slurred, and his eyes close again. He slumps forward until his forehead falls against the pommel of Qui-Gon’s shoulder, and his body falls into his master’s arms.

“And yet you disobey me, anyway,” Qui-Gon huffs. He taps at his cheek, trying to make him laugh, or smirk. Anything. “Obi-Wan?” he prods. “Who gave you permission to fall asleep?”

“Mm,” his padawan says.

“Do you remember what I said? About the korarchetropes? You promised to obey me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, master,” Obi-Wan says. His voice is hardly more than a whisper. “You said they talk for hours. M’listening.”

“Then do as I say,” he stresses. “Stay awake.”

He feels him nod against his chest, but his breathing has slowed, and he doesn’t stir himself to reply. Qui-Gon coughs, and begins to speculate.

There is still smoke. Fires burn nearby, hot and stinging. They are not getting any closer to help, and he can feel blood seeping through his tunics. Though Obi-Wan is no longer as slight as he once was, Qui-Gon doesn’t hesitate to sweep him into an embrace, wrapping one leg around his waist, and throwing the boy’s arms around his neck. Like the child he so recently was, Obi-Wan presses close, his head tucking neatly beneath Qui-Gon’s chin, trusting and unresistant to being carried. He has not yet the dignity of adolescence to embarrass him. Nor the consciousness to suggest it. With his padawan held tight, Qui-Gon walks out of the darkness of destruction, and back into the light.

[moontheoretist]

When she and Tony Stark meet it is very clear that he was not expecting her there, “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?” he asks, hand pressed to the space over his heart. His right arm is in a sling and that does not look good. “Is there something wrong with your arm?” she asks. It did not appear to be in a cast and she saw no bruising. His breathing was restricted though and that did not bode well either. She narrows her eyes at the thought of someone harming her King’s soul mate but she blinks, letting the anger go. Now was not the time or place. “None of your business, and you are?” he snaps, glaring at her suspiciously. “Dora Milaje,” she responds vaguely, “and I am here on the behalf of King T’Challa.” “T’Challa can fuck off,” Tony snarls viciously and her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me,” she says in a dangerous tone. Soul mate or not she would not allow him to insult her King. “Anyone who is involved with Steve Rogers is no use to me,” he snaps. Her eyebrows remain raised, “I understand that Steve Rogers has caused you pain, but I do not understand how that extends to King T’Challa,” she says calmly. Perhaps too calmly but Stark either does not understand the danger or he does not care. Stark rolls his eyes, “I’ve spent the last five years dealing with people who blindly follow Steve Rogers around like a bunch of fucking lap dogs, I don’t need to have one more person tell me that I can never compare. I know that. No need to have anyone else remind me,” he says bitterly, his lip curling up in disgust. That changed things. “I here because the King is not sure what to believe about you. He and the Dora Milaje agree that the information about you is too conflicting to draw a reasonable conclusion. So I am here to try and find the truth, to see what you’re really like. I must admit that I do not like you,” she says honestly. Perhaps the man would take the honesty well. He does not, instead he flinches hard but the expression is gone very quickly. “Great, then you’re just like everyone else. Go report back to your king, tell him I’m as worthless as everyone says I am,” Tony says, turning and walking towards his kitchen. “I do not like many people, that does not mean that you are not a good person. And my personal opinion of you means little when you are not meant for me,” she says. Tony’s shoulders tense at that but he turns slowly to face her. “What do you want to know?” He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days and she supposes that it is very likely that he has not. The man had chronic insomnia and she suspected it made his very obvious PTSD worse. The dismissals from everyone else around him, including his closest friends, probably did not help the situation. “Why did you support the Accords?” she asks bluntly. Cutting to the heart of the issue was what she was good at, and it saved her time and effort beating around the bush. “Steve told me that I needed to trust people, to listen to them. He was right, so when the opportunity came to listen I did, or at least I tired but apparently that wasn’t right either,” he snaps bitterly, that disgusted look back on his face. “You feel guilty for Ultron,” she says and it is not a question. He flinches at the bot’s name, he certainly felt guilty for being the creator of such chaos. “Of course I do, who the fuck wouldn’t? I nearly ended the world when I ran that program and I should have said something to someone,” he says. She finds that curious, his anger at Steve and his acceptance that Steve was right in his conclusions about his communication skills or lack thereof. “But you did talk to someone, Dr. Banner. I know that he is currently missing but surely you count your communication with him as something,” she says. Banner appeared to be the only Avenger who was not adverse to Tony. The two bonded over science and Tony’s lack of fear of him. “Lot of good that did,” Tony mumbles. “But you spoke to him and he agreed that it was a good enough idea to try,” she says. “So what if I did? Everyone blamed me for it anyways, might as well take the blame. Bruce said it could go wrong and I didn’t listen, I should have.” He leans against the counter and sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just because your team blamed only you does not mean it was fair. It is not like they are lacking in recklessness and stupidity themselves. What kind of moron releases a brainwashed assassin onto the world? Steve Rogers is very lucky that seems to have had no consequences. And his taking the word of Bucky Barnes as proof of five other Winter Soldiers was not wise either, the man hardly knows what is real and what is not, he is still partially under the control of HYDRA conditioning. Only a fool would take the man’s word at face value. I believe that your holding off until you found real proof of the Winter Soldiers’ existence made you the most intelligent and clear headed of the group, at least in that moment. The rest of the team has far too much faith in a man who is living in nostalgia. Bucky Barnes does not, nor will he ever, exist again as Rogers knew him. He should accept that,” she says bluntly. It was a harsh truth, yes, but a man would never be the same after a trauma like that. Rogers himself was more than likely not the same man he used to be so he should not expect Bucky to be. He should also accept the reality of that trauma on his friend because living in his memories was not going to help Bucky Barnes. Accepting reality, no matter how harsh, was the only way to help Barnes heal from his wounds. It would not be easy for anyone but it was the most beneficial. “You… think I’m the smartest and most clear headed of the group?” Tony asks, looking beyond shocked. “In that moment, yes. You are not without your mistakes but that was not one of them. Tell me more about why you chose to support the Accords,” she says. This time Tony pauses for a long time and she lets him gather himself. It was important to make an accurate judgment. Finally Tony looks up, “Steve was right about listening to people. Sometimes I go too fast and I don’t think things through right, I’ve done it time and time again, even when I was supporting the Accords. I’ll make a snap decision that looks good at the time but I don’t talk to the people I’m supposed to be helping, I just make a decision and assume it’s for the best when it isn’t. I had one hundred and seventeen countries telling me to slow down and stop and I didn’t think that was something I should ignore. They weren’t making unreasonable requests, they just wanted a say in how we ran things and you can’t help people if you aren’t willing to listen to what they need you to do. I’ve learned that now,” he says. “Rogers thinks the best hands are still your own, you do not agree?” she asks, curious. Tony rolls his eyes, “no, he thinks the best hands are still his own, not our own regardless of what he says. You saw what happened when someone said no, it didn’t line up with his beliefs and instead of reaching out and asking to change things, or asking why things looked the way thy did he threw the whole damn thing out. Besides, if we’re talking histories here I have a near one hundred percent fail rate. The best hands aren’t my own so I thought maybe if I had someone else vetting my decisions they might be better but if that person isn’t Steve Rogers Steve doesn’t think it’s good enough.” Harsh words, but they were mostly true. She, too, found the Captain too rigid in his values. “And the agendas he spoke of?” she asks. He was not wrong for being suspicious of the government. They were corrupt, as near all systems were outside of Wakanda and even there they had their issues. At this Tony looks down, “I put too much faith in a system I know doesn’t really work that well. But we aren’t apolitical people, we know what the UN’s agendas were, they were clearly written on paper and we could have worked with that, used it to our advantage. But the fuck if I know what their agendas are. Natasha flip-flops more than a fucking fish out of water, so does Clint, I have no idea what Wanda’s thinking, you already know what I think of Steve, and Sam… well he’s an alright guy. I think he’s an idiot for following Steve around like a lost bird but he’s a good man. I know I made mistakes but that bullshit letter Steve sent me proves he doesn’t care.” She did not read the letter so she is unsure what he is talking about, “would you care to explain?” she asks, trying to be gentle. The man was raw, in pain, and it was bound to end badly for him. She was sure she had her answers but she was curious about the letter and more information would not hurt. “Oh he’s glad I’m back on the compound, obviously I moved back out, but he doesn’t like to think of me being alone because the Avengers were more mine than his. Pretty sure the fact that they’ve all always hated me minus maybe Bruce indicates that that’s a bunch of shit but whatever. And he has faith in people, in individuals? Really? Because I didn’t see any of that faith when people, individuals, were reaching out to us to talk to them and he slapped them down because what they wanted wasn’t what he wanted. And he’s never had faith in me. Never. I find it really hard to accept that he gives a damn about hurting my feelings, especially when he’s always assumed that I didn’t have any. And his stupid ‘I wish we agreed on the Accords but we didn’t so fuck you’ at the end was a real nice touch. He might as well have wrote ‘lol everything before this was a joke because I don’t really care what you think was right, it wasn’t what I think is right so you’re wrong’. At least we can both agree that he was a selfish prick keeping my parents’ deaths to himself,” he mumbles. So Tony Stark fell somewhere in between his public image and someone she did not know. He was clearly emotional, in pain, and that was not going to go well for him but he was not a bad person. He was not what the Avengers thought he was either. “You’re parents’ deaths?” she asks. “Yeah, I mean I can’t keep secrets or so he reminded me about a million times with that Ultron bullshit, but he can keep the fact that Barnes killed my parents to himself. Guess all the shit I do is totally fine if he does the same damn thing. I don’t listen and accidentally create Ultron I’m a problem, and that’s fair, but he can ignore the whole fucking world and that’s totally A-Okay with him. I can’t keep secrets, but it’s fine if he does. I can’t be suspicious of government structures without being labeled ‘insubordinate’ and ‘arrogant’ but when he does it it’s fine!”

The Truth Never Set Me Free (I Did It Myself) by TenSpencerRiedPlease

[shihalyfie]

Hi it’s me again with the asking questions thing. You said before that you weren’t so hot on the “Masaru punches things” meme, but would you agree him doing so is an important part of the series’ themes? I think it was the story director who said once that it was to show a story about partnership where the human does more than simply give his partner orders.

I would! I don't dislike the fact people make such a big deal about the punching things, but what I'm more concerned about the fact is that Masaru keeps getting played up as some notorious superhuman who miraculously can do things because of meme powers. As you said, it involves the series theme of humans and Digimon having better potential together than apart, and it's the series having its own way of trying to get the human partner to be more active in battle besides being an evolution battery. (To be fair, I think Adventure/02/Tamers/etc. were not actually nearly as bad about this as people tend to stigmatize them as, but it is true that there's still a lot more ways to explore in terms of getting human partners to be more active.)

The big thing here is that the key is DigiSoul. Even when you don't see the orange energy, the idea is that Masaru breaks all of those expected boundaries because he's a human with immense DigiSoul, which, as had been demonstrated multiple times by the series, scales not with physical strength but with emotions. In particular, Savers is a huge criticism of the mentality of buying into limitations just because people said so. Nearly everything DATS says about Digimon and how they work at the beginning of the series turns out to be appallingly wrong, and at the end, it turns out Yggdrasil's way of doing things was also wrong because it had no concept of humans nor desire to understand them. Yet people blindly accept what the government and DATS feed them, and Digimon blindly accept what Yggdrasil says because it acts like it's a god (and, very important: the endgame reveal was that it's not, it's just a very powerful computer that framed itself as being so in order to exercise its authority). However, Masaru and his father -- and, by extension, the Daimon family as a whole -- live by the concept of rejecting those preconceived notions and choosing their own moral code, which is why they're at the forefront of shattering those notions by way of DigiSoul. (This includes Chika, too; remember when everyone said that Digimon won't get their memories back after being reborn? Masaru and Chika's partners say nah to that specifically because they were able to overcome them through DigiSoul and their partner bond.) Masaru's not strong because he's just incidentally superhuman, but because he has the strongest open-minded attitude towards dismantling what everyone tells him to take for granted.

So when you look at the other characters, DATS, including Tohma and Yoshino, was of course trapped in that Lawful mentality, and Ikuto likewise was trained into the way of life he'd been taught by the Digital World, but slowly, working with Masaru changed their way of seeing things and allowed them to become more open-minded. I should also point out that the Savers head writer, Yamaguchi Ryouta, is extremely critical of the government and its incompetence, and practically spends every moment on Twitter criticizing organizational bureaucracy and its penchant for screwing people over, so I personally am not surprised Savers seems to have a lot of his feelings on this topic, with Masaru as a heavy reflection of the desire to dismantle that.

[fvrxdrm]

.•*Friends to Lovers on Holidays with Leon Kennedy*•.

Happy Single Asses’ Day!!!

Pairing: Modern!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

*****

“Cheers to us single fuckers!”

The clinking of wine glasses subtly intertwined with the voices of the actors in a horribly-done “horror” movie that was running on the television as you and Leon briefly joined them together before letting the tang of sweet, bitter, and sour wine hit your tongues. And when they did, you moaned in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

“It better not be. This shit costed, like, $100.”

Leon grabbed the wine bottle in front of him and went on to refilling yours and his glasses respectively.

“My wallet’s fucking crying,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t bullshit me now. Jack Daniel’s costs $50.00 and I don’t hear you complaining. And from what I remember you buy five of ‘em,” you retorted back hitherto taking a small sip of your drink.

“For your information I only buy one bottle now. Had the president not let us quit going on missions your statement would’ve been correct.”

It was true. Ever since the New York incident, bioterrorism had gone down and those rare times where an occurrence would go down somewhere in a small region on earth the BSAA would be sent, sometimes even bringing one of the newer DSO agents to help them with the cases. And so, with the conclusion that the count was dying at a leisure pace, the government decided there was no need for their veteran agents to be sent on missions unless they were lethal and needed someone who was as exceedingly experienced as you on the field and sanctioned both you and Leon to only do office work until further notice.

“I mean, yeah, true… Pass me the bowl?” With eyes still glued to the T.V., Leon reached out to grab ahold of the large bowl of popcorn and blindly looked for your hand until he finally felt the bottom of the bowl touch a surface, letting it go once he felt the weight shift lighter.

  “This is bullshit. Who the fuck just crawls on the ground after tripping while the killer is literally right behind them? Like, fucking 5 inches away from them! I would’ve stood up and ran.”

The movie had been going for about half an hour now and Leon couldn’t be more amused at how you reacted at every scene where the characters’ brains seemingly flew out of their heads. He wasn’t paying attention to the film. He’d watch this way, way, way, way back anyway and he knew how stupid it was so he just entertained himself by listening to your rants and laughing (also getting smacked every now and then).

“Oh my god! Why the fuck does she keep screaming?”

“You know what, I wouldn’t care if he gets killed.”

“Of course, the phone just had to be dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck are you making out while a psycho is literally out there to sheesh kebab you?”

“Oh my god, I just lost my brain cells.” And so on and so forth…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Leon muttered with a smirk, popping a chip in his mouth as he turned his gaze towards the movie.

“Well, I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was one of those movies that are so bad they’re good,” you defended as you swigged the rest of the wine that filled a portion of your glass. Your friend just snickered in response, stretching his arms and legs and smiled in fulfilment once he heard the crack of aging bones and staring narrow-eyed at the credit screen in front of him.

Words became trapped inside your heads. You didn’t know what to do from here. The only thing you planned was watching a movie for Valentine’s day – or Single Asses’ day as you call it – and fight shy of anything revolving around romance whether it be some sort of song or movie or something.

You both had been unlucky when it came to romance and intimacy. The closest you had to love were some one-night stands with random strangers and even that was far away from said emotion. Your jobs were complicated and when you both had started in the agency years after the Raccoon City incident, it already began taking a toll on your heads and continued to up until the incident in New York. And so, relationships were the last thing you worried about. Though, that didn’t mean your hearts wouldn’t race every once and a while. Truth be told you caught feelings halfway through your career, both of you. You sometimes entertained the idea of you and your best friend being together while he had conflict between you and Ada. Both of you were people he couldn’t let go of but he felt like one was superior to the other and his brain scrambled around for a bit until the day he almost lost you. It was the day disease almost took over the world: Tall Oaks and China. That was the day he realized just how much you meant to him.

“So, um… I should go now. I’ll see you around.” Leon stood up from the couch and was about to head out your apartment door until he felt something warm enclose around his wrist. He turned around to find your pretty face looking sheepish and pleading – pink creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears.

“I-it’s already late and I… I don’t think you’re in the right condition to drive. You can stay here if you want.” The blush on your face darkened even more and your eyes suddenly found interest on your tiled floor, your grip around Leon loosening. Seeing as how abashed you looked right now, he playfully simpered and decided hey, I teasing is fun!😀

“You don’t think I can drive myself home while drunk? Haven’t you seen me in action back in New York?” He spoke.

All enervation and intoxication suddenly voided out of your body; eyes bulging out of their sockets as his statement caught you unwary for a second. Incoherent words stumbled out of your mouth and none were piecing together to form an acceptable response.

“I’m just playing. I get your intentions. You seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Leon finally said after a few enough rambles were pitched into the room ceaselessly.

Your shoulders sagged and the tension that rapidly built up in you were unfettered in a matter of seconds. “Jesus,” you murmured. “You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Leon continued in his bursts of loud laughter and it only made you sink into your seat even more.

“I’m sorry… You’re just so freaking cute!”

Whoops… Didn’t mean for that to come out…

Leon’s fit of hysterics died down in a trice, feeling like a twelve-year-old whose embarrassment was so immense after getting rejected and being made fun of in front of the whole school that he’d rather melt in a puddle where he can be forgotten.

“I-I’m sorry. That just…flew out of nowhere. I- “

“It’s fine. At least I’m not the only tomato here, right? And um… Thanks… For the compliment,” you said, face burning another 100°C.

“Well, uh,” Leon scratched the nape of his neck and shoved his free hand in his pockets where each of his fingers twiddled with one another, “wanna chat?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be bed anytime soon, unless you’re really tired.”

“No, I’d love for you to accompany me tonight,” he replied.

“Okay, come back here you himbo.” You patted the empty space on the couch Leon previously sat on and smiled at him once he made himself comfortable with his feet resting on your coffee table and hands finding contentment in providing itself as a pillow for his head. “So, how’s life?”

  “Okay, okay…fine I’ll…haha…do it.”

A few minutes had passed, talking being the only thing you’d done up until Leon tackled and attacked you with tickles on your sides.

“You, Leon Scott Kennedy,” a giggle fell past your lips, “are…”

“Are?”

“…a fucking…idiot!” Leon fell in a daze at your words and while he was at it you took advantage of his vulnerability and shoved him down to the floor with you collapsing on top of him. Only when he felt the softness of your carpet and the hardness of your floor did he bring himself out of his stupor.

“You sneaky little shit-“ He was about to place both of his hands on your waist and flip you two over when his wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned above his head not even a second after he blinked.

“Uh uh, not so fast. You really think you could get away with this, don’t you?” A smug grin pulled the corners of your lips. Leon sighed.

“Fine, you win.”

Silence had taken over the room once more, the muffled chirping of crickets outside the closed windows the only sound filling in the missing gaps. Though the light that gave life to your apartment was dim, the distance between your faces was enough for Leon to take in every detail that defined the complexion of your face: from the lines that explicated the years and hardship you had been through, to the little dimples beside your lips that he was sure was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. From the constellation of cute freckles that flecked your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, to the pink hue that gave light to them. You were beautiful and there was no doubt it was one of the many things he admired about you. And there was also no doubt that he wasn’t afraid to voice it out while he laid flushed beneath you.

“You’re cute. You know that, right?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna be hot when I’m sixty.” You giggled at your own joke but when you saw just how awestricken your friend was by you, your smile immediately dropped and you were left flustered on top of him in diffidence and nervousness. And because of your oblivion, your hold on his wrists slackened and he took no time flipping the two of you over and switching up the roles.

“I knew you would fall for that, princess,” Leon remarked and before you could even let out a single letter, he already had his lips smashed onto yours.

A soft gasp fell from your lips but it didn’t take long for you to succumb to the feeling of his supple and slightly chapped lips.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment, and in that moment, you were in your pure and vulnerable selves.

It was slow and subtle at first, lips delicately lingering against each other for a moment of lip-lock until a relentless appetency set fire in your bodies. It became sloppy and messy and the abiding flavor that ghosted on your tongues left you wanting more and more of what you could give.

Hands set sail on plump skin and it wasn’t long until pieces of clothing slowly began replacing the space on your carpet where you once laid, Leon having carried you to sit you down on your couch.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” Leon whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, the ghost of his breath sending a delicious chill down your spine.

“I want to… Please?” And that did it for him.

He let out low growl from the depths of his throat before battering your neck with tickling kisses and bites were marks were left as graves created by the inner animal that was housed inside of his body. The brush of his skin against yours arised the short hairs that adorned your own and it didn’t help that the evening cold would tease past you in a speed that sent you shivering to your toes.

“Leon, please.”

“Please what, babe?” Leon kissed along your thighs while he looked at you through the shortness of his lashes.

“I need you, please.”

“In a minute, babe. I fucking need to taste you,” he mumbled, voice raspy with lust and desire.

You anticipated with what was bound to happen next with closed eyes and lip restrained in between teeth. However, no matter how much you prepared yourself for the feeling of his tongue touching your folds, your back still arched at the feeling and a soft moan sounded from an open mouth, hands finding home on Leon’s disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me, moan my name.” That you did. You let a string of curses unknowingly escape your lips along with his name slipping in between them as he lapped your sex with a type of hunger even he couldn’t describe for the life of him. He simply couldn’t get enough of your taste; getting you off once, twice, thrice, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him by his hair before having a sample taste of your own through his lips. And while he was busy savoring your mouth once more, you pushed him on the floor again and straddled his hips impatiently where you felt the twitch of his cock touch your pussy.

“Please, Leon. I want you. I want you so bad. I wanna feel your cock inside me, now.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Permission granted.

Your hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it a few times before lining the tip up to your entrance, pushing it down once you were sure enough that his dick would just slide in you, and you both moaned at the stretch and the tightness that surrounded him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” Leon grunted.

You let yourself give in to his astonishing size before you slowly began bouncing up and down his length, your eyelids falling close to the feeling of his dick hitting just the right spots with neither of you trying. You moved in sync together, his hips propelling into yours and gradually speeding up as indulgence replaced the throbbing of your walls at their painful expansion.

“Fuck, Leon, shit.”

This was good, painfully good, but somehow it still wasn’t enough for Leon so he decided to take control again and turned you to your back where he can finally satisfy both you and him much to your contentment. He pounded into you with so much force and the tips of his fingers dug into your skin that you were sure you were going to be sore the next day at work and bruises were going to be a part of your attire for a while. Oh, well, I’m just going to call in sick tomorrow.

“You’re taking my co – ngh – ck so good, baby girl. So – ngh – good.”

Mewls left your mouth at the sound of his broken words and a familiar tight warmth filled your stomach, your moans getting louder and louder each time Leon gave a powerful blow.

“Leon, please, please, please, I’m so close – shit!”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

After a few more thrusts, they became sloppy, you noticed, and all pent-up emotion boiled over into one strong orgasm that has you writhing and shaking in relief.

  “Well, fuck. That was good,” you spoke in between heavy breathing, the blanket you took from inside your couch now covering your glistening wet bodies.

“Best sex I’ve ever had if I’m being honestly,” Leon added, chuckling despite struggling to get some air himself.

“Yeah. But seriously though,” you steadied your head in your hand and began tracing random doodles on the exposed skin of his chest as you spoke, “Is this going to be a one-time thing or…”

“Well, to be honest, I wanna go further from just being a one-night stand. You know, a real relationship and all that. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, I’ll respect that.” You could tell Leon was disheartened at the thought of him being a one-night stand only but your intention was just the same as his and now, you were sure about your decision.

“I wanna go further than this, too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Leon placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he pulled you on top of him and lulled you both into a deep slumber.

*****

Lmao this was longer than intended XD.