#unity is more powerful than division

[wolfspaw]

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 6

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“How long have you known him?” Bucky’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp, watching every reaction.

“Five years,” you answered, keeping your tone steady. You didn’t want him to pick up on any hint of tension.

Bucky frowned, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at him. Ian seemed like a typical journalist, but something else about him gnawed at Bucky's instincts.

He rarely interacted with foreign reporters, so why did Ian’s presence feel… off? He was sure he'd figure out why this feeling wouldn't leave him.

Before either of you could say more, Greg appeared, clipboard in hand, and gave you both a pointed look. “Alright, you two, time to get ready. The event’s about to start. Let’s make sure everything runs smoothly.”

You nodded, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to stir. You’d been on stages before, but not like this. Not with Bucky, not under the gaze of an entire country.

Bucky noticed your hesitation and moved closer, placing a firm hand on your lower back. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. “I’ve got you.”

You looked up at him, trying to read his eyes. Was he just saying that for the cameras? Or was there something deeper there? It was getting harder to tell. You nodded anyway, more for yourself than for him, and straightened up. You had to play your part, just as you always did.

At the Convention

The large venue buzzed with excitement, lights shining down on the stage like spotlights in an arena. When Steve Rogers walked up to the podium, the room went silent, all eyes on him. He was the golden candidate—charismatic, confident, the embodiment of what the people wanted.

The room buzzed with anticipation as Steve Rogers approached the podium, every eye in the venue locked onto him. He stood tall, his presence commanding, radiating the quiet strength he was known for. After a brief moment, he began speaking, his voice steady but filled with passion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Americans," Steve’s voice echoed with gravitas, "Today, we stand at the threshold of a new era. We face challenges that require not just strong leadership, but leadership rooted in integrity, honor, and the unyielding belief in the power of the people."

The crowd quieted further, hanging on his every word.

"For too long, we’ve watched division grow. But I believe in the strength of unity, the strength of standing together—one nation, bound by a shared responsibility to protect our freedom, our families, and our future. And I pledge to lead with the same unwavering commitment that I’ve given to this country my entire life."

He took a brief pause, allowing his words to sink in, then continued, his tone growing more impassioned.

"I am not just here as a candidate, but as a father, a husband, and a son," he said, gesturing toward his wife, Peggy, and their children standing nearby, his parents behind them. "I want a better world for my family—just as I want a better world for yours. A world where opportunity isn’t reserved for the few but shared by the many. A world where every child grows up in safety, with access to education, health, and the opportunity to pursue their dreams."

The applause began to rise, but Steve held his hand up gently, signaling for quiet once more.

"This is not just my campaign. This is our campaign. Together, we will fight for a future that respects the dignity of every individual. We will build an America where justice is not selective but a right for all. Where leadership is about service—not power."

His voice crescendoed, igniting the room.

"Because I believe in us. I believe in the promise of America, and I believe in the strength of the American people. Together, we will rise to meet the challenges of today, and together, we will create a brighter, fairer, and stronger tomorrow."

The room erupted into thunderous applause as Steve’s words settled over the crowd. He stepped back, waving, as Peggy and their children joined him at the front of the stage, a living testament to the family values he championed.

With that, Steve Rogers sealed the moment—an electrifying speech that echoed far beyond the walls of the convention hall.

The crowd erupted into applause as Steve stepped aside, making way for Bucky.

Now it was his turn.

You watched as Bucky walked to the podium with the practiced ease of a man who was born for this. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, the overhead lights catching the sharp angles of his face. As soon as he began speaking, the room hushed again.

“I want to thank everyone for being here today,” Bucky started, his voice strong, yet warm. “Serving alongside Steve has been the honor of my life, and I am proud to stand here as the candidate for Vice President. My family—my parents Julius and Caroline, my siblings Shawn and Hazel, my nephew Nate, and my brother-in-law Tim—are with me today.” He motioned to the side, where they all stood. Caroline’s expression was as rigid as ever, while Julius offered a rare smile.

Then Bucky’s eyes found you.

“And of course, my wife. She’s been my rock. She’s stood by me through the hardest times, and I can’t imagine being here without her.” His voice softened, but the sincerity in his words cut through the noise in your head.

You smiled on cue, the kind of smile you’d perfected over years of practice. But inside, everything felt muddled. Bucky spoke as though you were his whole world, but you knew the truth. This was a performance. A calculated move to protect his image.

The applause was thunderous, but it sounded far away as you fought the emotions swirling inside you. Bucky looked the part—strong, dependable, built for this kind of role. He was doing everything right.

But you? You were pretending. The smile you wore for the cameras wasn’t for him; it was for the part of you that wanted to see Caroline suffer, to see her envy every look Bucky gave you on that stage. But underneath the spite, you felt something deeper, something far more complicated.

'Can I really keep doing this?' The question lodged itself in your mind as the applause rang out again.

You watched Bucky continue his speech, looking every bit the man of the moment. He thrived in this atmosphere, while you felt like you were drowning in a sea of lies. Every glance from the audience, every flash from the cameras, reminded you that none of this was real.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause again. Bucky turned to you, offering his hand. The warmth of his palm against yours was meant to be reassuring, but it only deepened your confusion.

As you both exited the stage, his grip tightened slightly, just enough for you to notice. He leaned down, voice low in your ear. “You did great,” he whispered. His words were laced with a strange tenderness that made your stomach flip.

You nodded, but deep down, the weight of this act was crushing you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the convention wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, you and Bucky maneuvered Tim’s wheelchair carefully. The excitement of the day was still buzzing in the air, but you could sense the underlying tension between Bucky and Ian as Ian approached you and Tim.

Ian greeted you with a friendly smile. “Hey, I’m working on a piece about the election from the perspective of the candidates’ families. What’s it like for you and your family during all this?”

Bucky, standing beside you, made a subtle move to place himself between you and Ian, a protective gesture that didn't go unnoticed. “I’m not sure if that’s appropriate,” Bucky began, but Tim cut him off.

“Of course! I’ve never been interviewed before. It’ll be good to share my side,” Tim said eagerly, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Bucky looked at Tim, then at you, his frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw. He sighed and stepped aside, unable to argue with Tim’s excitement or your reluctance to refuse a friend’s request.

Ian turned to you, his expression curious. “You never mentioned your brother before. It’s clear you two have a strong bond.”

“She’s a private person,” Tim interjected with a hint of pride.

Ian raised an eyebrow, glancing back at you. “You really seem to know her well.”

“We may not always show it, but we’re very close. She’s been like a second mother to me, especially after I lost my leg,” Tim said, his voice carrying an unusual warmth.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at the unexpected praise from your brother. It was rare to hear him speak so openly about his feelings.

Ian smiled as he jotted down notes. “This story is going to resonate with a lot of people.”

After a while, Tim excused himself, leaving you and Ian alone. Ian’s demeanor shifted subtly, becoming more serious.

“Thanks for giving him the chance to speak,” you said with a slight edge. “You know, it feels like you just handed him a chance to embarrass me.”

Ian chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Isn’t that what siblings do? Cherish these moments of difference before it’s too late.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean,-?”

Before you could ask, Ian pulled you aside, his face set with determination. “I heard there’s a divorce in your marriage.”

You stiffened, your eyes widening in surprise. “How did you find out?”

Ian’s smirk was almost smug. “Don’t underestimate my skills. You vanished, then reappeared, acting like everything’s perfect. I pieced it together from the campaign.”

He leaned closer, his frustration evident. “Not once did you mention him. And now, suddenly, you’re playing the loving wife. It’s irritating.”

You crossed your arms, feeling a wave of anger and discomfort. “Are you planning to use this information?”

Ian’s expression softened, though his eyes were intense. “I don’t know yet. But a few people already know.”

You flinched at his words, a shiver running down your spine.

Ian’s voice dropped to a reassuring whisper. “Don’t worry. They’ve only heard rumors. No one has solid evidence. I could protect you. Because you deserve someone better.”

You gulped, unable to speak. Ian’s concern seemed genuine, but you couldn’t shake off the pain from your marriage with Bucky. Your emotions were still tangled, and you didn’t want to get involved with Ian’s feelings, especially now.

You glanced up and saw Bucky watching you from across the room. His eyes were locked on you, his gaze sharp and intense. It felt like he was assessing every movement, every word. The tension in his stare made your heart race, and you could almost feel his frustration and jealousy from afar.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the car sped through the night, the backseat felt increasingly cramped, the air thick with unspoken tension. You stared out the window, trying to avoid Bucky’s piercing gaze. The city lights flickered past, a blur of neon and shadows, as you stewed over the conversation with Ian and the unresolved questions it left.

Bucky's silence was more oppressive than any words. His jaw was set tight, and the muscles in his neck were rigid. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, laced with an edge of command. “Don’t meet Ian anymore.”

You continued to look out the window, your reflection a ghostly image against the darkened glass. “He knew about the divorce,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his grip on the seat tightening. He was silent for a moment, the weight of your revelation settling in. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Well, that means I’m on the right track. Every politician has skeletons in their closet.”

You turned your head sharply to face him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not afraid if the rumor leaks out?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady, but his jaw tightened slightly. “I’m not gonna lie, I am afraid. But I’m more worried about how it’ll affect you.” He paused “But look at the bright side. It narrows down the list of people who knew about our marriage.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing in frustration. “You’re playing with fire, Bucky.”

He leaned closer, the space between you shrinking rapidly. His expression softened into a smirk, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. “I’ll win this for you. I still remember that moment when you wished me to win, just to spite my mother. I need that brave Y/N.”

You could feel the heat from his body, his breath mingling with yours as he drew nearer. The car’s dim lighting accentuated the intensity in his eyes, a smoldering gaze that made your pulse quicken. “Don’t make this about me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bucky’s smirk deepened, and he moved even closer, his face inches from yours. “But babe, this is all for you,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl.

His proximity was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You swallowed hard, the line between anger and something else entirely blurring as his lips almost brushed against yours.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were caught between the anger at his manipulation and the undeniable pull of the unresolved feelings you still harbored for him. The confined space of the car seemed to shrink around you, the air charged with a mix of frustration and unspoken desire.

Bucky’s gaze locked onto yours, his smirk fading into an expression of intense focus. His hand reached out, fingertips grazing your cheek in a feather-light touch that made your skin tingle. “I need you to trust me,” he said softly, his voice carrying an almost desperate edge.

You hated him for the pain he’d caused, but his touch betrayed your emotions, making it hard to stay firm. And he knew it. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.only the charged, almost unbearable closeness between you.

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[poweredinpeace]

Can evil be reasoned with? Yes, long enough to find a weakness in us to destroy us! Evil can’t exist without division; evil always present itself as unity, peace, and benevolent justice.

Evil must deceive, it hates truth, evil steals everything that God gives freely too his creation. Evil is empty, accept for the fear of losing power, making it more dangerous than us human born into sin can understand!

Genesis 8:21 Yahweh smelled the pleasant aroma. Yahweh said in his heart, "I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake, because the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth; neither will I ever again strike everything living, as I have done.

1 John 1:8 If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.

[theblackfemininesociety]

The Power of Black Women Supporting Each Other: United We Win 👑

(Black Women in Hollywood, Essence. 2024)

In a world where black women have historically been marginalized and pitted against each other, it is crucial now more than ever for us to stand united and support one another. The notion that there is only room for a few at the top is a fallacy that has perpetuated division and hindered our collective progress. It is time to recognize that there is an abundance of talent, brilliance, and strength within our community, and by lifting each other up, we can shatter barriers, redefine success, and create a new narrative of solidarity and empowerment. Together, we can break through the glass ceiling and rise to new heights, leaving no black woman behind.

🪄 The Magic Behind Supporting Each Other Includes:

👑 Embracing Sisterhood:

As black women, we understand the struggles and challenges we face in various aspects of life. By supporting each other, we foster a sense of sisterhood that allows us to connect on a deeper level. Through embracing the concept of sisterhood, we find common ground and create a safe space where we can share our triumphs, challenges, and knowledge. Together, we uplift and empower one another, ensuring that no one is left behind.

👑 Breaking Stereotypes:

When black women succeed, we shatter preconceived notions and pave the way for future generations. Our collective achievements inspire others to pursue their passions, regardless of societal limitations.i

👑 Collaboration Over Competition:

Rather than viewing one another as competitors, we choose collaboration over competition. We recognize that our individual successes do not diminish the accomplishments of others. Instead, our achievements collectively contribute to a stronger, more vibrant community. From sharing techniques and experiences to supporting each other's businesses, we foster an environment where everyone can thrive.

👑 Leading By Example:

When we support one another, we become beacons of inspiration for young black girls and women who aspire to become successful in all areas of life . By showcasing our unity, we demonstrate the power of collective success. We encourage future generations to embrace their talents, chase their dreams, and support their fellow black women in their respective endeavors.

As we stitch our efforts together, we have the chance to showcase the power and harmony of black women upliftng one another. By celebrating each other's victories, we reinforce the belief that there is more than enough room at the top for all of us. Let us continue to uplift, empower, and inspire one another, for when one of us wins, we all do.

[mariacallous]

The advice I used to impart to young correspondents arriving at the BBC’s bureau in Washington was to remember that the United States had fought a civil war in the mid-19th century and was still arguing over the terms of a fractious peace.

Much like the modern-day phrase “sorry but not sorry,” which is used sarcastically to indicate a lack of remorse, the brief ceremony at Virginia’s Appomattox Court House in April 1865, which brought the armed fighting to an end, was a surrender but not a surrender. White supremacists in the states of the old Confederacy wanted still to reign supreme. Little over a decade later, following the collapse of Reconstruction—an attempt to make good for African Americans the promise of emancipation—enslavement was replaced by segregation. Across the American South, Jim Crow was in the chair.

Now, though, I would amend my advice. I would urge young reporters to reach back even further into history. The roots of modern-day polarization, and even the origins of former President Donald Trump, can be located in the country’s troubled birth. Division has always been the default setting. Victory over the British Redcoats at the Battle of Yorktown paved the way for independence but did not mean U.S. nationhood was a given.

Between the end of the Revolutionary War in 1783 and the start of the Philadelphia Constitutional Convention in 1787, it seemed as if the states might enter into two or three confederations rather than a singular nation as the former British colonies struggled to overcome their antagonisms. “No morn ever dawned more favourable than ours did,” a melancholic George Washington wrote to James Madison in November 1786, “and no day was ever more clouded than the present!”

The Constitution that Washington pushed for, and which was eventually hammered out in Philadelphia, was in many ways an agreement to keep on disagreeing. Compromises that prolonged and protected the institution of slavery—a Faustian bargain that became the price of national unity—created a fault line that was always likely to rupture and explode. It rumbles to this day. Even a Black presidency could not repair the breach.

So many contemporary problems can be traced back to those founding days. U.S. democracy has become so diseased because for most of the country’s history, it has not been that healthy. “We the People,” the rousing words that opened the preamble to the Constitution, was not conceived of as an inclusive statement or catchall for mass democracy. Rather, this ill-defined term referred to what in modern terminology might be called the body politic. Much of the deliberations in Philadelphia focused on how that body politic should be restrained in an intricately designed straitjacket, hence the creation of countermajoritarian mechanisms such as the Electoral College and Senate.

To describe the outcome as an experiment in “democracy” is misleading: The Founding Fathers did not care for the word, which is nowhere to be found either in the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution. When the country’s second president, John Adams, used the term “democratical,” it was intended as a slur. The fear of what some of the founders called an “excess of democracy” explains the thinking behind a quote from Adams that has resurfaced during the Trump years: “Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide.” Adams’s fear was not of unchecked presidential power, the meaning projected onto the quote in relation to Trump. More worrying for him was unchecked people power.

The right to vote was never specifically enshrined in the Constitution, an omission that continues to astound many Americans. To this day, there is no positive affirmation of the right to vote. It is framed negatively—it should not be denied, rather than it should be granted. With good reason, voting is often called the missing right.

Not until the mid-1960s, with the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, did the United States finally achieve what could truly be described as universal suffrage. In the South, Black people could finally cast ballots without being subjected to humiliating “literacy tests,” where they would be asked unanswerable questions such as how to interpret arcane clauses of state constitutions.

No sooner had this landmark legislation become law, however, than efforts to reverse it cranked into gear. So began what has turned out to be a decades-long campaign of de-democratization. It was spearheaded by the Republican Party, which needed to restrict minority voting rights because the demographic trend lines, and the transition toward a minority-majority nation, were thought to favor the Democrats.

These efforts were aided to a disconcerting degree by the conservative-dominated Supreme Court, with rulings that drastically weakened the provisions of the Voting Rights Act. For example, in 2013, Shelby County v. Holder gutted the act’s all-important Section 5, which forced jurisdictions with a history of racial discrimination to “preclear” with the Justice Department any proposed voting changes. In a 5-4 judgment, the conservative justices decided that preclearance was now obsolete because voter registration had shown such dramatic improvements. Yet as the liberal justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg pointed out in an unusually strong dissenting opinion, ending preclearance was akin to “throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.”

The insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021, then, should not be seen in isolation. It was the culmination of a prolonged assault on democracy that predated the rise of Trump. The attack continued, moreover, after the insurrectionists had been dispersed and the floors of Congress scrubbed clean of excrement. That night, 147 Republicans returned to the chambers to cast votes to challenge or overturn Joe Biden’s presidential victory.

Political violence is a core part of the U.S. story, although much of this history has often been buried and concealed. At the end of the 1960s, a commission appointed by President Lyndon B. Johnson to investigate why the United States was so prone to political assassination concluded that the country suffered from “a kind of historical amnesia or selective recollection that masks unpleasant traumas of the past.” It also noted that “the revolutionary doctrine that our Declaration of Independence proudly proclaims is mistakenly cited as a model for legitimate violence.”

Indeed, the Jan. 6 insurrection showed how political violence is still seen as legitimate and even rendered glorious. Many of the insurrectionists chanted “1776” as they stormed the Capitol. “We’re walking down the same exact path as the Founding Fathers,” claimed Stewart Rhodes, a former Army paratrooper with a Yale University law degree. (Rhodes helped establish the Oath Keepers, a militia group launched on April 19, 2009, the anniversary of when rebels and Redcoats first exchanged fire.) The day before the insurrection, Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene described it as “our 1776 moment.”

Many far-right extremists are inspired by words from Thomas Jefferson that, unlike the poetry of his Declaration of Independence, never made it into high school textbooks or onto the teleprompters of modern-day presidents. “I hold it that a little rebellion now and then is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical,” Jefferson wrote in 1787, a quote that has now become a far-right meme. “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots” is another of Jefferson’s sayings that has been co-opted by modern-day militias.

Often I recall the day of Biden’s inauguration, which took place on a platform that only two weeks earlier had been used as a staging post for the insurrection. It was festooned with red, white, and blue bunting, but it still felt like a crime scene that should have been sequestered with yellow tape. As I made my way to my camera position on the press stand, I noticed that technicians were testing the giant teleprompter in front of the presidential podium. And I recognized the words on the screen: “Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.”

The teleprompter had been loaded with the 272 words of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address in November 1863. Maybe it was some kind of sick joke. A rogue technician, perhaps, with a dark sense of humor. But these passages from the country’s most celebrated sermon could hardly be described as out of place. The question at the heart of the speech, and which had also been posed at the country’s founding, was being asked anew: Can this nation long endure?

My sense—my ardent hope—is that the conditions do not yet exist for all-out armed conflict, a second civil war, partly because the United States has accumulated so much muscle memory in coping with its perpetual state of division. But nor do the conditions exist for reconciliation and rapprochement. Nowhere near. So the United States occupies a strange betwixt and between: close to abyss, but a step or two back from the edge. Going to hell, as the wit Andy Rooney once observed, without ever getting there.

The U.S. historian Richard Hofstadter, famed for identifying what he called the “paranoid style in American politics,” put it well: “The nation seems to slouch onward into its uncertain future like some huge inarticulate beast, too much attainted by wounds and ailments to be robust, but too strong and resourceful to succumb.” The fact that Hofstadter published those words at the start of the 1970s speaks to how the United States remains stuck in a rut—revisiting the same arguments, going over the same ground. Americans remain tethered to their contested past. The news cycle is the historical cycle in microcosm. As Lincoln put it in his message to Congress in December 1862: “We cannot escape history.”

So even if the United States does not descend into civil war, it is hard to envision it ever reaching a state of civil peace. The forever war will continue: America’s unending conflict with itself.

[marandsviet]

"Ego builds walls, love builds bridges."

This quote contrasts the isolating nature of ego with the unifying power of love. When driven by ego, we create barriers between ourselves and others, fostering division and misunderstanding. In contrast, love seeks connection, understanding, and harmony, building bridges that bring people together. The quote encourages us to choose love over ego, to foster relationships and unity rather than separation and conflict. It's a reminder that love has the power to break down barriers and create a more compassionate and connected world.

[tmarshconnors]

50 African proverbs.

"A bird that flies off the earth and lands on an anthill is still on the ground."

"If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."

"The lion does not turn around when a small dog barks."

"When elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers."

"The wise create bridges, the foolish build barriers."

"He who learns, teaches."

"Unity is strength, division is weakness."

"Do not look where you fell, but where you slipped."

"Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors."

"A tree is known by its fruits."

"The one who loves an unsightly person is the one who makes him beautiful."

"The strength of a crocodile is in the water."

"The old woman looks after the child to grow its teeth and the young one in turn looks after the old woman when she loses her teeth."

"A wise person will always find a way."

"Where you will sit when you are old shows where you stood in youth."

"Do not be a spectator before life; participate!"

"The rain beats the leopard’s skin, but it does not wash out the spots."

"No matter how full the river, it still wants to grow."

"Wisdom is like a baobab tree; no one individual can embrace it."

"When the mouse laughs at the cat, there is a hole nearby."

"The goat says, 'Where there is blood, there is plenty of food.'"

"By the time the fool has learned the game, the players have dispersed."

"He who is destined for power does not have to fight for it."

"The chameleon changes color to match the earth; the earth doesn’t change colors to match the chameleon."

"The heart of the wise man lies quiet like limpid water."

"If you close your eyes to facts, you will learn through accidents."

"You can't build a reputation on what you are going to do."

"A wise person learns more from his enemies than a fool from his friends."

"You cannot climb to the mountain top without crushing some weeds with your feet."

"A roaring lion kills no game."

"Knowledge without wisdom is like water in the sand."

"Where there is love, there is no darkness."

"The strength of a nation lies in its homes."

"The best way to eat an elephant in your path is to cut him up into little pieces."

"He who refuses to obey cannot command."

"It is the calm and silent water that drowns a man."

"Patience is the mother of a beautiful child."

"A good deed is something one returns."

"When the character of a man is not clear to you, look at his friends."

"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."

"If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."

"When spider webs unite, they can tie up a lion."

"No matter how tall a tree grows, the leaves always fall to the ground."

"When the moon is not full, the stars shine more brightly."

"A leopard cannot change its spots."

"A village without elders is like a well without water."

"The sun will shine on those who stand before it shines on those who kneel under them."

"The eye never forgets what the heart has seen."

"A dog with a bone in its mouth cannot bite."

"The axe forgets, but the tree remembers."

[bandiera--rossa]

While reading the works of the medieval Arab sociologist Ibn Khaldun many years ago, I was surprised by his ideas on geography and climate, which attribute not only physical but also sociological patterns for people living in the same climatic region. In short, these ideas suggest that if someone from the extreme Northern Hemisphere moved to the extreme Southern Hemisphere, their surviving descendants would eventually have the same physical and sociological attributes as the people of the Southern Hemisphere. I was fascinated by this concept and at a loss of how anyone in this world could be a racist, knowing they could have mutated into anyone else.

Holding onto this notion and adding to it years of soul-searching, which for being born a Muslim led me to delve into Sufism, I developed the firm belief that all humans are essentially one and that all evil in the world is the result of our division. I was convinced the principal reason people in the Global North condone their armies murdering innocent civilians or the dying of children from hunger in faraway nations is that they are unable to perceive the victims as similar to them and are accordingly unable to empathize with them and feel their pain. If they did, I told myself, most evil in the world would disappear.

That is why I believe that the main objective of the arts should be to humanize those we perceive as different. Being an aspiring novelist myself, I decided that unity and the oneness of being would be the principal theme of all my work.

I can no longer adopt such beliefs and will no longer vouch for those ideas.

It is clear to me now that calling for love and unity does not fall on the oppressed but on the privileged. In the face of the hate or apathy of those who do not feel their suffering or regard them as equal, the persecuted have no choice but to embrace whatever they are persecuted for, ethnic, religious, or else, and accept the division. To vouch for love and unity is a privilege only people in the Global North can now afford. For the rest of us, it is nothing short of weakness and humiliation.

Like most people in the Global South, I am watching with horror the ongoing genocide being perpetrated by Israel in Gaza and the blind, astonishing backing of the majority of governments and mainstream media outlets in the United States and Europe. Like most people in the Global South, I am opening my eyes to the hypocrisy, racism, and ugly confirmation that our lives and deaths are still not valued or regarded as equal. Like most people in the Global South, I am outraged at the narrative of condemning Hamas solely for the attack on October 7, the impudence of acting as if it were unprovoked, and the moral failure to view it in the context of 75 years of dehumanization, colonialism, ethnic cleansing, land theft, violence, torture, and rape at the hands of Israel.

We, who suffered from colonialism, understand that the only party to blame is Israel, the occupying power, simply because if there had been no occupation, there would have been no Hamas. We, who suffered from colonialism, understand that the Hamas combatants who attacked Israel on October 7 did not choose to be resistance fighters and would have had normal lives if they had not been subjected to occupation and living for almost two decades in a concentration camp where more than half of the population were struggling to afford food just before October 7. We, who suffered from colonialism, are well aware of this narrative of blaming the victims and the failure to apply the same moral principles to us.

So, for the people of conscience in the Global North who are standing with the Palestinians in any way they can, for those marching, writing, and speaking up, thank you for giving us hope in humanity in our darkest hour and not allowing us to turn into complete monsters as our enemies want us to.

And for the other ones, for those who are running this horror show in Gaza or facilitating it, for those who are murdering and collectively punishing the innocent men and women and the children of the earth, for those who know there are children trapped in darkness under the rubble of bombed buildings, who are dying of thirst and hunger and are still against a ceasefire, for those who have revealed the wickedness of their hearts and the darkness of their souls, know that we now see you for who you are. The masks have fallen, and millions of us are opening up our eyes to the realization of how much you hate and dehumanize us. Millions of us are radicalized and ready to adopt the ideas and narratives of any group, only if it will fight or oppose you. Whatever doctrine there is — Islamist, Communist, or Nihilist — millions of us are ready to espouse it only if it will take a stand against you.

Palestine now divides us. 

We have hate in our hearts, and I promise you that it will remain. And I promise you we will live like this and die like this and pass on our rage and our pain. And we will remain prisoners of our hate, and you will remain prisoners of your crimes and fears, and the violence will go on, and none of us will be free, until there is fairness and until there is justice, and until Palestine is free.

Mohamed Seif El Nasr - an Egyptian writer with an academic background in history and international law.

[thedreadvampy]

So, wow, ok, it doesn't grant them voting rights or a seat on the Security Council but the UN has successfully voted to move Palestine from an observer state to a member state, which means it can put forwards motions and join debates.

this is. fucking miraculous. as a sign that the US is wavering in its support of Israel.

Of course they're bitching about it and the US right are already trying to pull all funding from the UN (frankly I'm in favour of this if it was unilateral can we be honest cause if the US actually shot its load and withdrew from the UN maybe the UN could be something other than an arm of US control) but this has never been allowed to happen.

(threatening to pull funding is America's favourite pasttime when it comes to Israel, and is also the only reason Israel exists at all, because America threatened to pull funding and aid if there was a single-state solution in 1947)

As long as the US puts its full weight behind Israel, as it has for over 75 years, the popular movement for Palestine will not find any expression at an international state level. Nobody who is not already in America's bad books will intervene without support, and even those who are already disliked by the US, like Iran, are afraid to risk kicking off all out war with the US.

This is all true while America backs Israel.

But I think, or at least I hope, that it's becoming less and less tenable for them to put all their eggs in the Israel basket. They're being increasingly condemned and cold-shouldered from outside, and facing a popular uprising inside to a degree they haven't seen since the 60s which they're so far unable to quash through propaganda or violence. Popular support for Israel is collapsing fast.

Now to you or I - normal fucking guys - this is a moral issue first and foremost. People are being killed in their thousands and That's Bad. But governments don't believe in people, they believe in numbers - profit margins, approval ratings, debts, how many potential enemies vs how many potential allies.

A moral cost won't change things but an economic and political one will, and when the costs of supporting Israel outweigh the benefits, America will shuffle away from it and pretend they were against Israel all along.

If you believe, as I do, that Palestine will be free, then America still has time to do the thing it loves to do - come in blazing in defence of the underdog at the end of a genocide it sponsored and nurtured, claim the title of Great Liberator, and rely on everyone remembering that more than they remember the preceding decades.

the downside there is that the US has rarely been SO publicly, loudly in support of a second party state as it is with Israel. it has LOUDLY invested a lot - money, time, political capital - into Israel and the Zionist cause for over 100 years, and it's devoted a huge amount of its internal propaganda machine to a) the Goodness of Israel and b) the Arab world being the ultimate evil. I don't know if they can pull off the America Classic here. I don't know if anyone's buying it.

as well, the global incentives that made the US back the formation of Israel are still there - which is to say, there's a lot of Middle Eastern states with a lot of (reasonable) beef against the US, and Israel presents a powerful barrier to Arab unity. Could they transfer that power over to Saudi Arabia? Maybe, but that's still Arab. I think they're very afraid of losing a foothold in the Middle East. But also they're building hostility there again by continuing to support Israel, so they might be better advised to jump ship while they still can.

(the other fear I guess is that if they pull out and Israel survives and completes its genocide, they will also have lost the foothold, and will have burned all their bridges on both sides)

like my hope is that at this point the US state's relationship with Israel is a game of chicken and I hope they're coming towards a point where the internal division, the international condemnation, the rebellion of the UN, and the weakening of the Israeli state make it more threatening to US interests to stay allied to Israel than to withdraw.

And the US is the linchpin. The only thing allowing Israel to act with impunity is that the US is standing behind it holding a big stick.

When the US caves on Israel - and it will, sooner or later - the world will scramble to follow. So we have to keep making support for Israel politically inconvenient. Keep fighting US support for the occupation because the movement isn't visible much of the time but Palestine becoming a member state of the UN without US sanctions is a jolt of movement. It shows we're moving this huge thing off course, and we can't let up - the more it moves, the easier it will become to move.

[stillnaomi]

The principle of the separation of powers, so prominent in most states, including some democratic republics, is wholly absent in the Soviet Republic. The reasons for this are as follows:

a) The separation of powers into legislative, executive, and judicial is primarily a political matter. It corresponds to the structure of the bourgeois state where the principal task is the balancing of the main political forces, viz., the possessing classes on the one hand and the toiling masses on the other. Being by nature an inevitable compromise between exploiters and exploited, the bourgeois state has to balance and divide power … This balancing and dividing tempers the ferocity of class domination, and the arrangement is cherished by all states which exist for the purpose of continued oppression.

The separation of the judicial power … has an additional advantage in that it tends to subordinate the administrative power to the judiciary in the interest of the bourgeois class, at the same time giving the character of impartiality and objectivity to what is, in fact, class justice …

b) it is well known that in order to secure the above-mentioned impartiality of the judiciary power all bourgeois states adopt a series of measures intended to secure the independence of the judges’ conscience. Among such measures are non-recall, appointment for life, high salaries, etc. Even in a democratic republic, where, by virtue of popular sovereignty, concessions had to be made to the masses, we encounter, alongside the practice of electing judges, certain remnants of the past in the form of non-recall and life tenure for members of superior courts. But the principle of non-recall never guaranteed the independence of the judges and the inviolability of the judicial conscience. On the contrary, judges appointed for life had always tended to form a special caste beyond the reach of the uninitiated and separated from the needs of the people by a high impenetrable wall, thus making them narrower and more intolerant defenders of the dominant class. One can say without exaggeration that in a bourgeois society the jurists are the most determined defenders of capitalism.

c) The Russian Socialist Republic has no interest in any division or balancing of political forces, for the simple reason that it bases itself on the domination of one all-embracing force, i.e., the Russian proletariat and the peasant masses. This political force is engaged in the realization of a single end, the establishment of a socialist order, and this heroic struggle requires unity and concentration of power rather than division. Furthermore, our Republic stands in no need of hiding or camouflaging its purposes, and, in so far as it leads an active fight against counterrevolutionary forces, it comes out openly with its Revolutionary Tribunals as a weapon of revolutionary struggle. Finally, our Republic is based on the sense of justice possessed by the masses and not on the justice of the oppressors, so that the thing we need is not an artificial system of rights and laws imposed from above but a system of rights emerging from the masses, In the same way our Republic does not need a caste of trained and cunning jurists who, under the guise of the law, defend the narrow interests of a propertied minority; we need judges able to understand and interpret the sense of right inherent in the masses. We need a people’s court, elective, subject to recall, and amalgamated with the Soviet Government by an identity of purpose and the revolutionary struggle …

M. A. Reisner, Justice in the Proletarian State, April 22nd, 1918

[darkmaga-retard]

By David PrenticeWe had an iconic moment in history, a demonstration of courage and resolve in the face of evil.  It brought unity to the right in so many ways.  It’s a forever moment.  Barely a month later, doubt and second-guessing is creeping into the psyche of many on the center-right.  Reason number one is the left sowing seeds of doubt with their psyops machine.  The Democrat/media/tech complex is working overtime.  For example: J.D. Vance is the wrong choice.  We’re weird.  Kamala is Supergirl and Wonder Woman, but wait, there’s more!  Kamala was never border czar.  Crime is down because we say so.  Democrats are wonderfully cool.  What immigration crisis?  Trump is so bad, the assassination never really happened.   We’re going to lose anyway.  Those are just a few of the narratives they are implanting in the nation’s psyche.  None of them true.  Some are so obviously false as to be laughable. Yet they persist. It’s part of their plan to sow division, tempting us to disbelieve our own eyes, ears, or memories.  The effect of their persistence is manifold, but the one thing they want more than anything is to weaken our resolve. Confuse. Obfuscate. Demoralize. Take away our will to fight.The second reason is personal.  Let’s admit it.  Some days it’s hard not to get caught in this negative vortex.  For all of us.  We need to successfully cope with their very real psyops machine. The machine is effective.  They will do this all the way to the election and beyond.  They are using the demonic Saul Alinsky’s first rule:  Make us think they are more powerful than they are. 

[charles-leclerc-official]

I agree with everything you said about Ferrari restructuring and not getting Newey - ultimately good things imo. Newey worked the best at Red Bulls because he practically had free reign. Yes he is very good, but if Ferrari needed him at his best, they would have had to relinquish power to him, and Fred rightfully did not want to do that. Especially when Ferrari has a whole team that can be competent, and now more than ever they need unity, not more divisiveness or engineers feeling cast aside for Newey.

And now finally! Ferrari are changing their suspension for next year. I think we are heading in a good direction. I am not gearing myself up for any expectations of wins/championships yet, but this is good news. I'm not sure how much knowledge of current cars is applicable to the 2026 regs, but I think improvement next year will be a big help knowledge-wise, and for team morale. I also think that if anything, Lewis coming on board will inspire and motivate everyone even more, and will be a positive addition to team morale. Looking forward to it.

Yeah, I really don't think handing over that much control to someone who is an outsider, a talented outsider, but still an outsider would have been wise. And I feel like behind the scenes when they talked they probably realized their visions for what an updated engineering department looked like at Ferrari were quite different. And when that's the case things don't work out. It would have led to a bunch of tension and disagreement and we don't need that.

A lot of the physics learned can carry over. The cars in 2026 will be different, but a lot can be learned and applied from these past years to it. They never start completely from scratch, they carry over a lot of data from previous cycles.

I am very interested to see who they do end up adding to the team, should be interesting!

[dragonnwriter]

Inviolable Bindings

Aemondxfem!OC and Aegonxfem!OC

All Chapters Here!

Chapter 46

The days seemed to pass in a blur while Viserra tried to find something of a new routine and discover the surrounding area. To her pleasant surprise, there was plenty to do and she did not have to force herself to spend more than a few minutes each day in Alys’ presence.

Despite remaining cordial, she could not shake the feeling that there was more to her than just magical claims. Viserra had yet to see the otherworldly abilities Aemond had been so focused on, but Alys did happen to showcase her value and skill by preparing quite a few different elixirs for common ailments. The most important to her, a brew similar to tansy tea, which had been handed off in passing with only a few words in exchange. It was the first time she felt connected to the woman, though it was an easy thing to see eye to eye on, both knowing it was a dreaded responsibility that came with bearing a womb.

Aemond met with Cole each day, sometimes with her and sometimes without. Plans and strategies to take King’s Landing when they had the chance were consistently discussed, though they seemed to be lacking in specific details. Each new piece of information presented to both Aemond and Cole was considered carefully, yet nothing had come to them giving them an obvious in to go. With each coming day, there seemed to be more of an underlying divisiveness between the men, something she feared might eventually harm their strength in unity.

On an otherwise uneventful afternoon a raven flew in, bringing news that confirmed all of Viserra’s fears. The Lannisfer army, which had been headed to join them at Harrenhal, had been attacked and utterly destroyed within just two days. There had supposedly been attempts to send for help, but those ravens had been shot down in a successful feat to keep their need for more manpower only a thought.

The armies from the North and the Riverlands had made a bold and powerful move in their support for Rhaenyra. Worst of all, there was no telling what might be next, only that Rhaenyra’s men had inflicted a significant hit that would be felt through all of their supporters.

Aemond read the letter with rage boiling under his skin, something Viserra picked up on from the moment his eye met the paper. Placing her hand on his arm in a small gesture of support, she watched while being unable to help any of it.

“This is a disaster,” he spat, tossing the paper aside and pulling his arm from her touch. “They mean to cripple us, to humiliate us, to attempt to take out our allies because they fear confronting the one who rides a war dragon.”

Viserra stepped closer to him but did not attempt to touch him again. “Aemond,” she spoke. “We mustn’t act without thinking this through. This is war. They will take every chance at weakening us, just as we would to them.”

The way that his anger flared at her words made the fire in her veins to begin to simmer as well. “Are you defending the actions of our enemies?” He snapped, his voice dripping with accusation. Before she could retaliate against his words, he turned his attention back towards Cole. “We must take back King’s Landing now. We cannot wait any longer.”

Cole’s brow flinched and he shook his head. “With all due respect, we may have strength in our army, but one dragon against the many in King’s Landing would have us quickly outnumbered.”

It was not what Aemond wished to hear. His hand slammed on the table and the sound echoed through the quiet room. Viserra and Cole exchanged a look, both coming to the realization that he was not making decisions with logic.

Stepping closer to Aemond who was still leaning over the table, Viserra attempted to find a trace of understanding in his face. “Aemond, we cannot afford to make moves without strategy. Rushing into King’s Landing with insufficient means will only ensure we do not succeed.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched.

“We will find a way to get me to Rhyn, but in the meantime we need more strength from the skies,” she explained. “Perhaps we bring Daeron here and then reevaluate retaking the city.”

“Perhaps we head south to Old Town to join with Prince Daeron and their armies there.” Cole suggested.

The tension in the room was palpable as Aemond looked back up to Cole. “Leave us,” he commanded. But when Cole hesitated to go, he snapped at him again. “That was an order.”

Bowing respectfully, Cole looked at Viserra before turning to leave. When the door closed loudly behind him, they both sat in the thick silence for a moment longer.

“We must do something,” he growled.

“We will do something,” she reassured.

In a much more gentle manner than he was speaking, Aemond placed his hands on her shoulders. “I will take matters into my own hands,” he declared. “I cannot sit idly while these things are happening around us.”

Viserra’s eyes widened at his words. “You cannot go-”

“I will not go to King’s Landing,” he interrupted, his grip tightening just slightly. “But I must instill consequences to those who continue to stand in our way.”

Brushing past his hands on her shoulders, she locked her eyes onto his one. “I will not let you go by yourself,” she argued.

Aemond looked surprised when he realized she was not telling him he could not go, but wanted to join him.“You do not wish to come, Viserra,” he warned.

“I do not wish you to go, but even more I do not wish you to go wherever it is alone,” she spoke with concern. “Of everyone, I should not be the one you push away from this.”

Aemond held firmly there but cupped her face with his hand. “You do not understand,” he spoke much quieter this time.

“Then help me understand.” Viserra stood her ground just as he had, but her words were now a plea for him to let her in.

“I cannot,” he insisted. “But I will not be long, no more than a day. My business remains within the Riverlands.”

Denying her was telling of the strength of their trust. It made her heart ache with the thought that things were no longer falling so easily into place, but she would not push him further with the worry he would continue to pull away.

Reaching out to grab Viserra’s wrist, Aemond pulled her in. A sigh started at her lips but he stopped it with his own, stopping her display of discontentment. This, she would not fight, letting the pleasant warmth of his kiss drive the worry and frustration from her body, even if only for a few minutes.

Aemond’s hand let go of her wrist, placing his on the nape of her neck instead. In response, she slowly let her arms wrap around his waist and pressed herself against him. The tension had almost dissipated in the brief moment they shared, but as soon as he pulled away from her it came back like a cresting wave.

Viserra did not attempt to stop him and she watched him go with a look of disapproval. It was not the promise of staying away from King’s Landing that worried her, but the fact that Aemond could cause just as much trouble in any of the lands there still sworn to Rhaenyra.

Tracing the lines of her lips with her fingers, she attempted to savor just a moment longer of the kiss they had shared. Her legs felt heavy, and it took some time to find the strength within herself to leave the room. When she finally forced herself to move, she walked at an incredibly slow pace through the castle until reaching the tower stairs.

After ascending only a few of the many steps, she heard the low growling of Vhagar and the sound of her massive wings flying overhead. Quickly going to the small window in the stairwell, she saw the enormous dragon soaring above the fortress, the silver haired man strapped to her back. The sight of seeing Aemond leaving so freely made the anger boil within her once more. She should have been able to mount her dragon and follow him, either in support of his actions or to try and keep him from stirring up more harm than good.

“He will come back,” a voice spoke from behind her. She was startled more than she would have liked to admit. Looking over her shoulder, she turned to see Alys standing in the bottom of the stairwell. Viserra’s eyes narrowed immediately and she did not need to speak for the woman to know her presence was not welcomed in that moment.

“And you know this, how?” Her tone carried the same bitterness as her face. “From the witchery you claim to possess?”

Remaining completely unfazed by the hostility, Alys only smiled. “Yes, in fact, I do,” she confirmed calmly. “He will return before sundown on the morrow, alive and well.”

Viserra stared at her for a short while, not sure how to react to the unbothered demeanor. “And how do you know these things? If I am to take your word for it, I wish to see it for myself.”

The polite smile strewn across Alys’ face turned into one showing not only her approval, but possibly excitement at Viserra’s request. “You and him are similar in many ways.” she remarked. “Aemond too, demanded to see it for himself.”

“Only a fool would fall for stories and tales without seeing them with their own eyes,” she retorted. “And I am no fool.”

Alys nodded. “I did not say anything of the sort. Follow me, girl,” she instructed.

There was only a few seconds of hesitation before Viserra found herself driven by both the anger from Aemond leaving and the curiosity and desire for said answers. She followed closely as they walked throughout the castle and up into another, worn, dark tower. Once they reached the top, Alys began lighting a few of the candles on the wall to illuminate the dim room.

As each candle brought more light into the space, she realized there were numerous shelves filled with herbs, elixirs, and various forms of texts. In the center of the room, was a long table with more items similar to the ones she had seen in Aemond’s room upon her arrival.

Viserra paid attention to Alys as she rummaged through things, watching as she seemed to find what she was looking for. She uncorked the small jar and then placed it on the table in between them. She then picked up a dagger while simultaneously reaching out for Viserra, gesturing for her hand.

“While the babe lets me seek more answers than usual, giving new blood will certainly ensure we obtain the most from your questions,” she explained.

Hesitating again only briefly, she trusted her instincts that told her the woman, while odd and difficult to read, did not wish to harm her. Steeling herself and proceeding to offer up her hand, she hissed at the sharp pain that came as a cut was made across her palm.

Alys brought the cup to her hand, letting the blood run into it before seeming satisfied with the amount. And as soon as her grip loosened, Viserra pulled her hand away, watching carefully as she stared intensely into the cup for a long while, occasionally mixing it with a spoon.

Alys handed the cup back and it was only in that moment that her surety momentarily wavered. As Viserra looked into the vessel, she observed that the thick liquid appeared to be both foul and undrinkable.

“Blood magic,” she spoke, stating the obvious. It was something her Valyrian ancestors were heavily involved with, a thought that both scared and excited her.

“You must think of what your deepest questions are,” Alys instructed. “And bring your mind to a place to accept the answers that are so graciously offered to you.”

Viserra looked up to the woman, taking in a deep breath before bringing the cup to her lips. The foul and metallic taste immediately assaulted her nose and it took everything she had to continue drinking it without choking on the contents.

Once finished, Viserra tossed the cup back on the table with a shudder. The warmth on her hand brought her eyes back down to the wound still bleeding.

“Do not lose your focus or your intentions,” Alys reminded her.

Viserra met her gaze again as she spoke, the woman continuing to smile at her with an almost serene expression. She had intended to ask for a cloth or something to bind her hand, but before she could utter a word, everything went black.

The darkness surrounded her long enough that Viserra began to feel the panic rising in her body. But before she could dwell on it, a rush of sensations overcame her, memories from the last few moons, the fears she harbored deep within herself, and the desires that drove her down this path.

The images began to form in the darkness, both vivid and intense. First was of her dragon, chained but alive, fighting against the binds that held him in the dark caves of the dragonpit. His eyes were wild, widened and glazed with fear, something that she had not seen in him before. Reaching her hand out, she attempted to go to him, but her feet slipped instead and it all disappeared as she caught herself on her hands and knees on the hard ground beneath her.

The stone was warm under her fingers and the sulfur that filled her nostrils was somehow both foreign and familiar. This was exactly how she had pictured Dragonstone in her mind, the volcanic terrain mixed with the salty breeze from the sea was almost a dead giveaway.

The sounds of rocks rumbling down the embankment quickly drew her attention. Looking up, she recognized the golden scales almost immediately and her heart leapt from her chest seeing that the dragon was very much alive. She watched as Sunfyre climbed over the rocks and into a dark opening in the side of the volcanic mountains just as the realization hit her hard. If Sunfyre was alive and on Dragonstone, perhaps that was where Aegon was hidden as well.

As Viserra tried to push herself up to stand and get a better look, everything went black the images shifted for the second time. The sulfur filled air was replaced with a cool mist and she found herself in front of Harrenhall standing on the cold, foggy banks of the lake.

A dragon’s roar cut through the skies far above her and she quickly began to search the clouds to find the source. Suddenly, in a heap of dragonfire and screeching, she thought she could make out the shapes of two dragons spiraling downwards towards the water. Recognizing the larger one as Vhagar, she sucked in a sharp breath as fear ran through her.

Desperately, she opened her mouth to scream Aemond’s name, but no sound came out. The beasts hit the lake at an incredible speed, water quickly rising up into a large wave that began heading in all directions.

The darkness swallowed her once more, pulling her away from the horrifying sight. Viserra reached out for whatever was to come next, her hands finding and holding firmly to the cold stone determined not to lose her footing this time. As her eyes caught up to her other senses, she found herself clinging to the ledge of the window from the familiar tower room of Harrenhal she shared with Aemond. Confused and somewhat disoriented to whether this was yet another vision, she looked around her surroundings for anything that seemed off.

Looking out over the walls of the fortress, her eyes found the massive body of Vhagar easily settling down near the lakeshore. Squinting, she tried to reassure herself that the dragon was very much alive and did not appear to be harmed in any way.

The door to the tower of the room opened behind her, the sudden noise and motion causing her to force the air from her lungs. “Aemond,” she whispered, feeling a wave of relief come as her voice flowed freely. Cautiously, she took a few steps away from the window, hoping that this reality would not slip away too.

Aemond met her in the middle of the room, his brow slightly furrowed as he reached up to dab her nose with his finger. “You are bleeding.”

Viserra looked down at the blood before reaching up to wipe even more of it away herself. “You are back?” She spoke, unable to hide her confusion.

The look on Aemond’s face caused her to second guess her words. “Yes. As I said I would be. It has been well over a day since I departed,” he replied.

Viserra only stood there, toying with the idea that she somehow had lost an entire day. “You are sure?”

“Are you alright?” Aemond’s concern deepened with her continued confusion and he watched her closely to ensure she was indeed okay.

Wiping her nose once more, Viserra noticed the bleeding had slowed. She took in a deep breath as her mind raced through everything she had just seen. “The woman is a witch,” she spoke firmly.

Aemond’s face contorted with the realization that it all had something to do with Alys. “You went to her.”

“She found me.” Viserra defended. “Shortly after you departed for whatever it was you needed to do without me.”

Aemond’s lips pursed at her words but he did not refute them. “What did she do to you?”

Viserra softened her guard, unsure of the answer to his question. “I do not know,” she admitted. “I told her I would not believe in her word without seeing it for myself.”

“Yourself? What did you see yourself?” His voice seemed just as irritated as it did surprised.

“She bled me into a cup filled with some kind of foul liquid then instructed me to drink,” she explained. “She said you demanded to see it as I did too.”

Aemond’s apprehension did not wane as he studied her face while processing her words. “She bled you?”

Looking down at her hand, Viserra noted the carefully tied bandage around her palm. Perhaps Alys had not shown Aemond the extent of her magic knowing his unpredictable and undirectable behavior.

“I would not have believed it otherwise,” she confessed, cautious of how she would explain her perception of what had happened.

Aemond seemed fixated on the fact that Alys had used her blood in the magic, his response making it clear that she had not done the same. “And what did you see?” He pressed impatiently.

Hesitating for another brief moment, Viserra did not know where to even start. “If there is any truth to these visions, I believe Aegon is somewhere on Dragonstone,” she began. “I saw Sunfyre there, alive and well.”

“Sunfyre?” Aemond questioned. “You saw my brother’s dragon but not my brother. I would not think them foolish enough for him to be hidden in such an obvious place.”

The fact that he did not seem to believe what she was telling him bothered her quite a bit. “Make of it what you will,” she responded. “But I know what I saw.”

“Viserra,” he warned.

“No,” she snapped. “I think it makes sense. And it would be foolish not to send someone to see if there is any truth to it.”

Aemond hummed, giving it some thought. “And this is all you saw?”

“I saw my dragon,” she spoke in a much softer voice. “He was chained in the Dragonpit, scared. And then I saw Vhagar, intertwined with another and falling from the skies into this lake.” she explained, gesturing out the window.

The moment Aemond realized what she was insinuating, his body language changed. “Falling to her death?” He asked, clarifying exactly what she had seen. “And with me in the saddle?”

“I do not know if you were in the saddle, it all happened so fast,” she admitted.

Aemond’s face hardened and it was clear that her words bothered him more than he would let on. “That is not what I have been shown,” he snapped. “Alys must be playing you a fool out of jealousy.”

It took a moment to realize what he had said, but Viserra’s own defensiveness flared in response. “Jealousy? You have already denied there being anything between the two of you. I do not see why she would feel as such if that is the truth.”

“I do not know but I can assure you Alys’ motives are her own,” he spoke firmly.

Viserra closed her eyes and shook her head. “Perhaps what she sees are not whole truths, but things that could be if we take certain paths.”

“I will not hear anymore of it,” he retorted, turning from her and unbuckling his leather doublet.

Viserra bit her tongue, knowing that arguing would do neither of them any good. It would be foolish to ignore what she had seen, but Aemond was not ready to entertain it.

“Did you accomplish what you needed in the Riverlands?” She asked, aware that this might bring even more tension between them.

“I sent them a message loud and clear,” he answered, his expression and body language stern and unfriendly.

Viserra walked around to face him, searching his face for some reassurance that he had not created yet another problem for them all. “And what message was that?”

“One of fire and blood,” he replied coldly. “Those who oppose us need to know what the consequences are for rising up against us.”

“Aemond,” she spoke quietly, thinking of the small village she saw when initially coming to Harrenhal. “You cannot burn down the very lands you wish to rule over.”

His seriousness was unwavering. “If they refuse to bend the knee, they will burn.”

“You have lost sight of what will truly place the crown into our hands,” she explained. “Your spiral of hate and vengeance is your biggest weakness.”

Aemond looked up at her, his expression now showing that he took offense at her words. Reaching up to grab his arms, he attempted to look away, but she dug her nails into his skin and effectively kept his attention on her.

“I, too, have reason to wish the worst on those who have wronged me,” she continued. “But that energy is wasted in this moment. I promise you, that when we have secured King’s Landing and my dragon is free, you can have what you want.”

Aemond’s eye flickered with a mix of emotions, torn between his anger and the truth in her words. “It is not only about revenge,” he tried to explain.

She shook her head once more, unsure of how to steer him away from this path of destruction. “Intelligence and strategy, not ruthlessness, will win us this war.”

Aemond let out a frustrated breath, placing a kiss on her forehead before turning away and ending the conversation for good. Though he had somewhat calmed down visibly, she felt a subtle disconnect between them that gnawed at her core.

Something had to change, realizing in that moment their current strategy, whatever it was, would only lead to their downfall. Their priorities needed to be reuniting her with her dragon and searching for the whereabouts of Aegon and those that had fled with him. If Aegon had healed well enough to ride and had been reunited with Sunfyre, they would have the best chance at taking King’s Landing.

Author's Note:

Phew, who is loving the new season of HotD? I was a little scared they were going to make Aemond too soft, but holy hell he is one delulu babygirl. Sorry for the long time since update! Life is just busy. :)

[aylen-san]

When and How the Concept of the Rings of Power and the One Ring Was Born: The Story of a Grand Deception

Greetings, seasoned seekers of knowledge and lovers of darkness! Sauron is with you once again, and today I have decided to lift the veil on the mystery surrounding the creation of the Rings of Power and, of course, the One Ring. It's not every day that you get the chance to peek behind the scenes of a grand deception, so make yourselves comfortable—it’s going to be intriguing.

Where It All Began: The Art of Deception as Inspiration

It all started when I, Sauron, grew tired of being just the "right hand" of Morgoth. Yes, you heard that correctly. Subordination is not something that great power strives for, so I began to ponder: how could I not just rule but control the world from the shadows, with my enemies not even realizing that they were already on my side? How could I achieve control while remaining invisible? And that, my dark friends, is where the idea of the Rings of Power was born.

Unity Through Division: The Creation of the Rings of Power

It’s no secret that any ruler dreams of control. But forcing everyone to obey directly is boring and predictable. It’s much more interesting to govern by giving people the illusion of freedom. And that’s when I thought of creating the Rings of Power—not just some trinkets, but powerful artifacts that would tempt and subjugate their bearers to my will.

For this, I traveled to Eregion, where the local elves were greedily engrossed in the art of jewelry making and the creation of magical artifacts. I introduced myself as Annatar, which means "Giver," and offered to help them create rings that could strengthen their powers and expand their influence. They, of course, suspected nothing, for who would doubt a giver bringing so much knowledge and power? Naive.

The Secret of the One Ring: My Personal Ambition

But of course, the most crucial element of the plan was the One Ring. While the elves were creating their rings, I secretly forged my own—a ring that would control all the others. Oh, you should have seen how their eyes shone when they received their jewelry! No one suspected that they were becoming part of my great web, where I, Sauron, pulled all the strings.

The One Ring was my masterstroke—a powerful artifact that contained a part of my strength and mind. It didn’t just control the other Rings of Power; it allowed me to see all their secrets, thoughts, and plans of their bearers. It was a true web woven from illusions and lies. Nothing escaped my gaze.

Why Rings? It’s All About Symbolism

But you probably ask: "Why rings?" And I answer: what could be better than a ring as a symbol of eternity? It’s a closed shape, a symbol of infinity and complete submission. Men, elves, and even dwarves—they are all enchanted by rings, these magical and material symbols of power. So why not use this symbol for my purposes?

Moreover, a ring is always in sight, always on the finger, as a reminder that you are not just wielding power—you are possessed by it. It’s a closed circle of power that pulls you deeper and deeper. That’s my little metaphor for eternal power and control.

Failure or Triumph? It Depends on Perspective

Of course, any great idea eventually faces obstacles. Yes, perhaps at some point the plan didn’t go as expected when those damn elves figured out my deception and hid their rings. And yes, maybe there were some issues when a certain man named Isildur managed to snatch the Ring from my finger. But is that the end? No, my dark friends, it’s just the beginning of an even greater game.

The concept of the Rings of Power is not just a strategy. It’s the art of manipulation, it’s a mind game, it’s a grand plan that never dies. The Ring will live on, even if I disappear for a while. It will wait for its moment when it returns to its true master, and with it, my power will return.

The End or the Beginning?

So, my dear admirers and frequenters of darkness, think about this: every great plan starts with a small idea. The concept of the Rings of Power was born from the desire to control everything while remaining in the shadows. This was, is, and will be my main strategy. The Ring lives on, as does my will, and who knows what surprise I will prepare for the world next?

Until we meet again, when the One Ring reveals its power once more and the world bows before me. In the meantime, I watch, I wait, and I quietly smile from the shadows.

[ginza-division]

Masa's Thoughts on Obihiro Division

Hisoka Tetsumasu

"Hisoka Tetsumasu, a man of many layers, much like the horses he tends to—wild at heart, yet capable of being tamed for the right cause," Masa muses. "His past dealings with Hypnosis Microphones could serve a higher purpose within our fold. I see a man seeking redemption, a soul yearning for guidance. It is within our sanctuary that he may find the clarity he seeks, and in return, his unique talents could prove instrumental in our divine mission. Yes, I shall extend an invitation to him; there is much we can accomplish together, under the watchful eyes of the Almighty."

Daiki Kamiyama

As he stares at his photo, Masa contemplates the youthful Daiki with a thoughtful gaze, recognizing the spark of idealism that burns within the boy.

"Daiki Kamiyama, a soul still untainted by the world’s harsh truths," Masa reflects. "His fervor for justice, his dream of heroism—it's a rare purity that one seldom encounters. In his passionate crusade, I see the echoes of my own once-held aspirations, the desire to enact change, to serve a cause greater than oneself."

Masa's voice carries a hint of wistfulness as he continues, "There’s a part of me that envies the boy's unburdened spirit, the freedom to chase after dreams without the weight of past deeds. Yet, it is in guiding such spirits that we find redemption for our own transgressions. Perhaps, in time, Daiki's path will converge with ours at 'The Crossroads,' where his zeal can be honed into a force for our collective vision. Until then, I shall watch his journey with interest, ready to offer wisdom when the time is right."

The priest's words are not just an assessment but an open door, an invitation for Daiki to one day join him in the intricate dance of purpose and power.

Jack Verrill

Masa Judice regards the butler's photo with a discerning eye, recognizing the his unwavering dedication to his charge, Daiki Kamiyama.

"A butler of such loyalty is a rare find," Masa muses. "Jack Verrill's commitment to the young Kamiyama heir is admirable, indeed. It speaks of a deep sense of duty and a protective instinct that aligns well with the values we uphold at 'The Crossroads.'"

However, Masa's intuition suggests there's more to Jack than his composed exterior reveals. "I suspect Mr. Verrill harbors secrets of his own, knowledge that extends beyond the silver tray and the neatly pressed suit. Such a man could prove to be a valuable ally, or a formidable opponent," he contemplates.

"As for recruiting him, it's a delicate dance. Whether it's the butler or the heir who joins us first, each will inevitably influence the other. Perhaps securing the trust of the vigilant guardian is the key to welcoming the idealistic hero into our fold." Masa's thoughts are strategic, considering the potential of both men to further his enigmatic agenda.

Veiled Vanguard

Masa contemplates the collective known as Veiled Vanguard with a strategic eye, considering the potential each member holds within the grand scheme of his vision.

"The Veiled Vanguard, a team of disparate souls, each carrying their own burdens and dreams," Masa reflects. "Together, they form a mosaic of talents and secrets, a combination that could be quite beneficial to the world we are striving to create."

He sees in them not just a group of individuals, but a reservoir of possibilities. "Each member holds a piece of the puzzle that I seek to complete. Hisoka's intimate knowledge of Hypnosis Microphones, Daiki's unyielding spirit of justice, and Jack's meticulous care and hidden depths—all of these qualities are commendable and, indeed, have a place in the new order that 'The Crossroads' envisions."

Masa's respect for them as a team is evident, yet it is tempered by his own ambitions. "Respect is earned, and as a team, they have shown they are capable of great things. Yet, it is in unity with a higher purpose that true strength is found. I shall extend an invitation to them, for in the world to come, those who stand with 'The Crossroads' will find themselves on the path to salvation and power."

Masa's words are an open hand, ready to guide the Veiled Vanguard towards a future where their potential can be fully realized under his guidance.

[absolut-maenaiac]

Ash Wednesday - Thomas Theodor Heine Ash Wednesday by T. S. Eliot:

I

Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know The infirm glory of the positive hour Because I do not think Because I know I shall not know The one veritable transitory power Because I cannot drink There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time And place is always and only place And what is actual is actual only for one time And only for one place I rejoice that things are as they are and I renounce the blessèd face And renounce the voice Because I cannot hope to turn again Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us And pray that I may forget These matters that with myself I too much discuss Too much explain Because I do not hope to turn again Let these words answer For what is done, not to be done again May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly But merely vans to beat the air The air which is now thoroughly small and dry Smaller and dryer than the will Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained In the hollow round of my skull. And God said Shall these bones live? shall these Bones live? And that which had been contained In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping: Because of the goodness of this Lady And because of her loveliness, and because She honours the Virgin in meditation, We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd. It is this which recovers My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown. Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness. There is no life in them. As I am forgotten And would be forgotten, so I would forget Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose Is now the Garden Where all loves end Terminate torment Of love unsatisfied The greater torment Of love satisfied End of the endless Journey to no end Conclusion of all that Is inconclusible Speech without word and Word of no speech Grace to the Mother For the Garden Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other, Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand, Forgetting themselves and each other, united In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

III

At the first turning of the second stair I turned and saw below The same shape twisted on the banister Under the vapour in the fetid air Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair I left them twisting, turning below; There were no more faces and the stair was dark, Damp, jaggèd, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond repair, Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.

At the first turning of the third stair Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute. Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown, Lilac and brown hair; Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair, Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy Lord, I am not worthy

but speak the word only.

IV Who walked between the violet and the violet Whe walked between The various ranks of varied green Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour, Talking of trivial things In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour Who moved among the others as they walked, Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour, Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded. The new years walk, restoring Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem The time. Redeem The unread vision in the higher dream While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue Between the yews, behind the garden god, Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down Redeem the time, redeem the dream The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile

V If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent If the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, unheard; Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard, The Word without a word, the Word within The world and for the world; And the light shone in darkness and Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence Not on the sea or on the islands, not On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land, For those who walk in darkness Both in the day time and in the night time The right time and the right place are not here No place of grace for those who avoid the face No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee, Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray For children at the gate Who will not go away and cannot pray: Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender Yew trees pray for those who offend her And are terrified and cannot surrender And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks In the last desert before the last blue rocks The desert in the garden the garden in the desert Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

VI Although I do not hope to turn again Although I do not hope Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss In this brief transit where the dreams cross The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying (Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things From the wide window towards the granite shore The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices And the weak spirit quickens to rebel For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell Quickens to recover The cry of quail and the whirling plover And the blind eye creates The empty forms between the ivory gates And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth The place of solitude where three dreams cross Between blue rocks But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden, Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still Even among these rocks, Our peace in His will And even among these rocks Sister, mother And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea, Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.