#at least i wont endanger my family............................................................ right? right??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pocketramblr · 4 years

Note

Yes, even if it scares me. (Also, Fuyumi and Hana are valid)

They are mega valid I love them

Here, you can have Oboro's death bits. Content warning for death and blood and gore, this takes place after the Kurogiri one:

Shouta ran and ran to where he had seen the light come from, no heed to Tamaki's claws digging into his shirt as he tried to hang on. It must have been the Belt, right? They must have won, right? No time to curse himself for being held back by Toga, he still needed to check them over.

Stars only knew that they wouldn't do it themselves, anyone in that family.

He slows as he passes a crowd of people walking away, back towards to main entrance to the castle, until he sees the tall form of Mirai just beyond.

"What happened?" He demands before he gets there, before he gets close enough to see the huddle past him. Mirai just turns to walk beside him.

The huddle- it's the Royal Family. Toshinori clings to Izuku and they both sob openly. Mirio has his arms wrapped around them both, and Nana strokes her son's hair. They're all alright. They're all alive.

He sees the bodies next. The guard, nearest to him. Impaled on his own or another guard's sword.

And just beyond, another body on Izuku's.

His breath catches. The greyish tinged man from Rithmere, the one Tomura had called Kurogiri. The one Shouta had recognized- Oboro.

"This guard sacrificed himself to get them the Diamond." Mirai murmers. "While Kurogiri did that to try and kill Izuku. They almost didn't catch him, but... I sent the people away, with Young Lord Shoto- he'll lead then to the prisons, get David and Inko and the others out."

"Good." Shouta feels numb, passing Kurogiri. There's something strange, wrong, running out of his ears. He's still breathing, but- "Izuku." He calls, looking at his charge- well. His former charge, now.

Izuku looks up, gives him a watery smile. "Shouta!"

He nods to him, lips flickering in some sort of smile for a second. "Kid. You hurt?" He scans over him, the others, as he feels Tamaki's little claws stop digging into his shirt, the creature leaping down to run through the grass. Shouta doesn't see any growing blood stains on clothing, so no one's bleeding, at least. Izuku winces though, when he turns too much, bruises showing under his sleeve as his arm moves. Still got a little injured, then. Toshinori looks- well, still thin, but beyond the tears, his eyes look less sunken, less tired. His curse broken, they just need to start getting food in him now that itll actually let him build up muscle, strength again.

He stands, the boys helping each other up, Nana pushing herself up too after a moment. "You wouldn't happen to have a kerchef, would you?" Toshinori jokes as he loops his arms over his sons, starts bringing them forward, wiping his eyes with a hand.

"Do I look like a handmaid?" Shouta asks, shaking his head. The royals smile, moving on to meet with Mirai. Shouta follows them with his eyes for a moment, then glances again to Kurogiri.

"You knew that one?" Nana asks, voice soft. She remembers some guards- not all of them, but the happy ones were distinct. the ones that were sent away, less so. the only one to come back 'sucessful' certainly was.

Shouta nods, just slightly. "His name was Oboro."

"I'm sorry." Nana means it.

"It was hardly your doing." Shouta sighs, closing his eyes. "Go on, your family. I'm sure Inko will want to see you, and the others."

He waits to hear a few footsteps before opening his eyes, before kneeling on the grass carefully- over Kurogiri, over Oboro. He isn't sure what to make of the mess by his ears. He isn't sure his friend's body even has human blood in his veins, anymore.

He closes his eyes- the other's were yellow now, wrong- and even though this was also not his doing, murmurs a soft apology.

"Ng. I'm the one who's sorry." Kur- no, it's not Kurogiri's voice. It's not what he remembers of Oboro either, but.. he knows it's him.

"Do you remember?" Shouta asks, so softly. He can't remove the blade, it would just make things worse.

"Never forgot. Worm was Kurogiri." So soft, so pained. "You did it, Sho. Found Toshinori, helped him to the throne."

"Yeah. His son is good too." Shouta takes one greyed hand in his, thumb rubbing over the back of it. "He reminds me of you sometimes, a lot."

"Is it the- fluffy hair?"

Shouta's laugh barks out, unexpected even from him as he grips the hand tighter. Really was him, then.

"Never thought I'd hear that again." Oboro remarks, trying not to move too much. "But he always seemed more like you. Stubborn, fearless, smart..."

"You mean reckless. Absolutely the kind to try and keep an illicit pet cat in the barracks."

"You helped." Oboro points out. "And you would have done it anyway if i hadn't. Thats what you do: take in strays."

"I guess you're right."

Shouta pauses, his eyes taking in the changes and once again seeing the goop running down Oboro's head. "What is that?"

"Was that," Oboro corrects. "The first worm, first success. The Belt killed it, killed Kurogiri." A pause, a deep, shuddering breath. "Need to warn them. The Shadowlord's working on more, wants to control people."

"You're not moving," Shouta sets his free hand on Oboro's shoulder. "We brought healers, from Tora. You're going to live."

"You got better at lying." Oboro huffs. "Or maybe i just can't see your blush and fidget giving you away right now."

"Oboro-"

"You have to listen. warn them. so many, hundreds, thousands, in the shadowlands. if it works, thousands of kurogiris invade. you have to stop them." He coughs, chokes bloody.

"I will. I'll tell them, right after youre healed, right after you-" he stops, unable to continue. He knows he wont be, they wont be fast enough. The Belt probably wouldn't even heal him now, and the last of the Lillies are long gone, now.

"Worth it." Oboro muddles. "Used to wish i'd failed-" He coughs again, shudders. "died. But now, and i warned you. worth it."

"Oboro," There's a quiver, a tightness that he hates. One grey hand rises, cups his face.

"It's all right, Shouta." Footsteps, traveling boots rustling grass. Yellow eyes look over Shouta's shoulder, and Oboro stiffens. "Your highness." His eyes downcast, the man tries to bow.

"Oboro!" Shouta steadies him, does his best to keep the sword from causing more damage.

Izuku shuffles, unsure, as he glances between the two. "Please, don't strain yourself." Shouta gets the other settled on his knees, Oboro no longer heaving with effort. "Shouta talked about you, Oboro of Del. He spoke highly..."

Another bloody cough, broad shoulders shaking despite Shouta's attempts. Izuku moved forward, determined to help. "I'm sorry, your highness. His control was too much, I endangered you so many times."

"No." Izuku's voice is firm enough for Oboro to look up into his face. Izuku wipes the blood away with the edge of his cloak. "It's not your fault. We've seen so many cursed, so many lives ruined by the Shadowlord."

"You broke so many curses too." the man says, rasps. "Before he knew what was going on. Infuriated him." He coughs a laugh at that, shakes. "Now you just have to keep him from cursing more people. Told Sho'."

Izuku nods. "I will. I promise."

"Be kind, if you can-" He coughs, again, not from a laugh this time. "Jin, Hana, Tomura. No place, right now, for them." Easy targets. Especially Tomura. the second child of a second child, who wasn't supposed to be, who had no one to be if he wasn't AfO's, who was alone.

"I'll do my best." Izuku promises again.

"Thank you. you'll be a good king too then." He coughs, the prince wiping the blood again quickly, gently. "You'll stop him." He says it like he can see it clearly, he says it with a smile.

He doesn't say anything else.

#anon #pocket talks to people #deltora au #my fic #my writing

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dirt-cup-draco · 5 years

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We'll See - Alex O'Connell x Reader Part (2/?)

You go with your grandfather Roger Wilson as he helps fund Alex to find the Dragon Emperor's tomb but find that the family member you so admired is a sell out and has endangered you and the world.

You waited for the men to walk a little further but you didnt want to lose sight of them, tombs could be a dangerous place and you weren't always the most careful. You darted from column to column and were glad to find that no one looked behind their shoulder. If your grandfather took notice of you, youd surely be sent back outside while they did a "man's job" as he liked to say.

It seemed that that was only applied to you however and it frustrated you to no end. Part of you understood he was simply trying to protect you but you ached for more in your life than just standing at the sidelines, following others as they made discoveries. You took a deep breath and switched your flashlight to your other hand, wiping your palm against your pants to help with the sweat. What if something actually exciting happened and you had slippery fingers?

You ducked your head to the side watching Alex move about, his eyes taking in everything. And boy were you glad he seemed to notice things before everyone else. Your grandfather had been leading the men and before you could blink Alex was shouting, "Watch out!", as he tackled the elderly man, as the two swinging objects met. You came out completely from behind the column, fear gripping your heart as the ringing in your ears from the thunderous noise faded and the dust cleared. Both Alex and your grandfather were fine and you let out a relieved sigh.

However, in your worries state you'd revealed yourself to the three other men. They stared and you gave a sheepish smile as Alex turned around, his eyes narrowing at your presence. "Y/N," he stated simply.

"What about my granddaughter?" Wilson turned around in curiosity but his nostrils flared and his cheeks puffed out slightly. "In God's name, what are you doing here, dear? Go back immediately, I wont tolerate you putting yourself in harm's way."

You wrung your hands together, shame filling your gut. But you met his gaze anyway and put your foot down. "I'm not leaving. You were in more danger than me seconds ago. I have to say grandfather, you have a sharp mind but you are getting older, I'm young and quick on my feet. If you can be here so can I."

The poor man looked baffled. How dare you speak that way to him, after all he'd done for you. But you were your father's daughter as well and you had guts. It took some pushing to get you to such a point but he realized that if you wanted to be there he wouldn't be the one to make you leave. He looked to Alex and then back to you, a question in his eyes.

Alex scratched at his stubble and looked you up and down once again, lingering in a way that made you want to blush but you tried to appear immovable. "If she dies, it's not on me." You grinned despite his morbid words and flicked on your flashlight as you followed much closer behind them.

He found Sir Bembridge and you and your grandfather cringed as his head toppled off his shoulders, his skeleton pinned to the wall. You wanted to stay a moment longer, wanted to honor this man somehow but your grandfather was already pressing on and so you had no choice but to keep going as well.

With the sound of grinding stone, squares in the wall opened up, dropping sand from high above and shedding light on row after row of soldiers. Their expressions blank and their bodies frozen in time. You stared in wonder even as the urge to sneeze tickled you, the dust and sand had settled into every part of your body but you have never felt better.

What a thing to witness. Alex grinned at you and you found yourself grinning back. Your heart was full and warm and you gave credit to the rich historical sight before you and not the boyish smile you'd received. Everyone waded between the isles of soldiers, hands delicately pressing against and soaking up the stories these men had to tell. You followed your grandfather and mused at every single person, wondering about their names and lives thousands of years ago.

But that quickly vanished as you heard a shriek and you tried to see where the commotion was coming from but you couldnt see above the soldiers. You could hear Alex saying the man's name. Chu Wah. Your grandfather set his hand firmly on your shoulder and you two quickened your pace as you hear rattling and then the sound of another man shouting as he sprinted, arrows flying after him. "Y/N, go!" You were told and you too began to run, worried you wouldn't be quick enough from whatever might come your way. You were behind your grandfather and he was behind the third man to join your group.

You looked around wildly trying to see what might try to leap out at you and end your life but nothing ever touched you. You saw the third man pushed your grandfather to the side and a sharp disk lodged itself in his chest. You gaped at him and wonder if hed been trying to save your grandfather as hed done or if hed been meaning to rush past and save himself.

You supposed it didnt matter.

Finally the barrage of weapons finally stopped but only Alex, you, and your grandfather remained. Alex looked at the fresh corpses of his men and you saw the guilt flash before his eyes. "If she dies, it's not on me," you recall him saying but seeing him now struggling against your grandpa to go to his men you doubted that. It might not be on him but you believed he saw it that way.

"Alex, they're dead! This kind of danger comes with the territory, you know that better than anyone," your grandfather said shaking the younger man's shoulders trying to get him to snap out of his sudden grief. That seemed to work and he finally stopped struggling, instead his eyes caught yours.

"You alright?" he asked and you weren't sure but you thought you could hear his voice quiver the tiniest bit. You thought about his question and nodded. "He's right... comes with the territory" but even as you said it you felt your hands shaking and if you had a mirror you were sure to find the color gone from your face.

Alex scanned the area and announced that the soldiers were facing one point, as if looking to the emperor. Your grandfathers face reddened and he growled. "You dont think some bloody grave robbers beaten us to the prize, do you?" Alex shook his head but you intervened, crouching right beside him as he pulled out his canteen.

"It's a feng shui compass," you supplied and Alex poured the water into the bowl, glancing at you with an impressed look in his eyes. "The emperor is still here, I'm sure. But the compass is facing in the opposite direction. So if we fix it..." you trailed off as Alex sprang to his feet.

"Yes, yes! Y/N you're absolutely right, we just have to realign it." You felt quite proud of yourself, at least you aided them in some way.

You helped them spin the stone circle around when suddenly the floor sank, making you unsteady on your feet. Both you and Alex fell but you were able to catch the ledge, your fingernails digging in as your grandfather stepped back and for a fleeting moment you thought he was going to let you fall but he was simply getting to a safer spot before grabbing your hand.

He tugged you up yet Alex remained below. You both yelled his name, but the silence stretched on. You grabbed your flashlight and pointed it towards where you thought he fell as your grandfather asked Alex to speak to him. You searched but it was hard for the light to penetrate the dusty air.

"I'm fine!" He yelled up but his voice was faint.

Just how far had he fallen and what had he found? ____________________________________________

A/N: Thank you for all the sweet messages and notes 😊💖

Tag List: @habblez-the-babblez

#alex o'connell #alex o'connell x reader #the mummy #rick o'connell x reader #rick o'connel #evelyn carnahan #evelyn o'connell #ardeth bay #imhotep #nefertiri #egypt #china

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rosettevaleria · 5 years

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Target Practice

OOC: TW for abuse below the cut. Alistair got angry. Furthering some shadow/personal plot that’s rolling out gradually. Don’t read if it bothers you -- be well, friends. <3

Her calves burned as she ran headlong down the stone pathway in the Goblet, eyes trained on the rooftop of her childhood home as she picked up her pace and her lungs gulped in air. Panic made her forget how to breathe whilst running, fear caused the sweat that trickled down her back and face to be cold even while she sprinted through the blistering midday heat. Her hat was forgotten at home, some strands of her ebony hair clinging to her face and neck while the majority of it flew about her with her hurried pace.

She had barely let the messenger finish his summons when she bolted out the door when word was delivered of her younger sister being attacked in the street. Her mind reeled as she picked up her pace, unable to comprehend why anyone would want to hurt the sweet-tempered novice Conjurer. Myrriah was incapable of harming anything, person or bug, and she would go out of her way to help anyone in need. Why hadn’t she had one of the Valeria retainers escorting her?

Rosette had little time to further contemplate such things as she reached the door of her mother’s household, opening it with a quick twist and she stumbled inside. She panted harshly as she slammed the door behind her, calling out breathlessly in the foyer. “Mother!?” She pushed a hand through her hair, brushing the strands back as she started for the stairs. “Myrriah!?”

The sound of a door closing and footsteps against the marble floor could be heard, Alistair appearing around the corner as she was halfway up the stairs and she continued upward. “Alistair,” She reached the top of the stairs, starting toward him. “What happened? Where is she?”

It was only when he said nothing that she paused, taking in his countenance. She inhaled sharply and her mouth opened, barely having enough time to brace herself as her brother reached her. His hands grasped her shoulders, fingers biting into her skin, and he spun Rose to slam her against the wall. The breath was knocked from her already winded lungs, her head smacking against the wallpapered covered plaster and her vision swam briefly. She couldn’t tell if it was from hitting her head or a lack of air in her lungs.

Above the ringing in her ears, she could hear Alistair all but snarling at her. “You little bitch,” He pulled her back and slammed her against the wall again, causing her to cough. “This is your fault!”

Rose grimaced harshly, wheezing as she looked up at her enraged brother. His face was flushed red, his jaw tight, and his pupils were mere pinpoints in the teal irises that mirrored her own. “Wh-What?” She looked up at him, eyes wide and then some of her own anger started to rise.

She pushed him off of her, leaning back against the wall and holding her right shoulder where he had been gripping her. “How the hell is it my fault!?”

Alistair ran his hands through his hair, looking as if he was about to rip it from his scalp as he began pacing the floor in front of her. “She was targeted,” He snarled, seeming to attempt to reign in his temper. “Myrriah doesn’t remember much before they knocked her unconscious, but they were asking her about you. About your whereabouts!”

Rosette felt her blood run cold, shock ripping into her as she leaned back against the wall for support. Her shoulders and back protested, but the adrenaline that spiked through her system dulled it as she regarded the patriarch of their family. He continued to pace like a caged tiger, his nostrils flaring in his attempt to regain control. His rage was damn near murderous and Rose knew she was the target.

“What, exactly, did they say?” She asked softly, finally regaining her breath and wariness crept into her. She knew that she would have to mind her words carefully, lest he turn to beat on her again. The skin prickled at the back of her neck, as it was wont to do with major aether fluctuations -- Alistair was hair-triggered.

“She cannot recall completely!” He snapped at her, causing her to shrink back against the wall. “Damn you, Rosette, I told you to handle your shit. If you hadn’t defied me, then none of this would be an issue!”

“I separated from House Valeria Imports because of what happened with Amarelle and your bullshit about endangering the family--”

The back of his hand cracked across her face and her head jerked to the side. She remained still for several heartbeats, tasting blood in her mouth and her tongue probed the split on her lower lip where his signet ring had caught her. His words swiftly followed the strike, “And yet, your name will always be linked to the family.” He hissed softly.

He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, jerking her face around so that he could meet her gaze. “You may be out and about with that fucking mockery of an airship crew, as well as attempting to prosper on your own. Do remember, little sister, that our family will always be targets because of your fuck ups.” He grasped her shoulder with his free hand, shaking her to emphasize his words. “Whomever you cross will know exactly where to look for weaknesses. They will know how to lay you low even when you operate separately from our family’s business. That’s what Father and I struggled to protect you from for years!”

Alistair let go of her chin and slammed his fist into the wall next to her head, causing Rose to jump and cringe away, her eyes closing tightly. She heard some of the plaster fall from where he had slammed his fist into the wall and felt his aether retreat. She finally felt him move away, tremors starting to over take her and her knees weakened, giving way and causing her to slide down the wall to land in an undignified heap.

When she finally opened her eyes to look up at him, he was regarding her coldly and a sneer twisted his visage. “Yet you spit in the face of all of our hard work. You continually defied him and still defy me.” He shook his head and turned from her, starting a few paces down the hall. His shoulders lifted as he inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled and he squared them. His voice was cool and clam when he spoke next, “When Myrriah is well, I’m sending her to Gridania and into the Conjurer’s Guild custody. You will sever all contact with her; do not attempt to communicate with her or I will be informed. Should you make any attempts...”

Alistair looked over his shoulder at Rosette as he let the threat hang in the air, finding her staring at the floor and wiping blood from her lip. “Am I clear, Rosette?”

She cleared her throat and rasped, “As a bell.”

“Good,” The eldest Valeria offspring turned away. “You know where the door is. You may see yourself out.” He started to walk down the hall once more to return from whence he came.

“Can I...at least see her before I go?” She asked softly, a slightly desperate note to her voice. She looked toward Alistair’s back as he stopped.

“The healer sedated her and she will likely sleep through the night. He thought it best in light of her trauma. I will not have her disturbed.” He looked over his shoulder to regard her coldly. “Get out, Rosette.” He disappeared around the corner.

She got to her feet slowly, shakily making her way down the stairs and out the front door. Rosette made it halfway home before she ducked into one of the many small sitting areas stationed throughout the residential district of the Goblet. Tears obscured her vision as she sank down on a stone bench, her head falling into her palms, and she choked back the sobs that threatened to break free.

#ffxiv mateus #ffxiv rp #alistair valeria #rosette #family problems #shadow plot #personal plot #blackgardenco #myrriah valeria #trigger warning #totes didn't proof read #desert rose industries #house valeria imports

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meg2md · 5 years

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WOW, IT IS REALLY COLD AND MY WORK STATION IN MY APARTMENT IS RIGHT BY THE WINDOW.

Clyde is feeling better, so that’s good. My roommate brought me back freshly-roasted, whole bean coffee from Thailand, so that’s also good. This weekend I’m going to a video and board game convention, so that’s good, but also stressful because it’s the weekend before my first MSK exam and I don’t know what to expect. And Peter’s here for one more day, so that’s good, but also sad because I wont be able to visit him until Match Day in March.

I don’t really know what to do to study, so I’m just doing random things and hoping I’ll pass. Lol.

going through my custom MSK Zanki deck (100 new cards/day) of stuff we learned in class

catching up in SketchyMicro and Pharm, but it’s unrelated to the current block

keeping up with my “Master Deck” Zanki reviews from previous blocks with no new cards

concept mapping certain lectures that have non-Zanki materials

doing 5-10 USMLERx biochem questions/day

going through a now-M2′s MSK deck for lower limb anatomy and class material

There aren’t any question ppts for this exam, so idk what kind of questions will be helpful. I don’t want to do MSK questions in USMLERx that we haven’t learned yet. I already did all the relevant Pathoma and some B&B to clarify random topics, and I’m going into the cadaver lab again tonight to review anatomy. Rohen’s anatomy atlas has been a life-saver because it has beautiful cadaveric photographs, which lines up more closely with what I’ll see on the practical.

It’s just stressful going out of town on the three-day weekend before my first exam of the block!!! Like when will I study? Will I even pass? I like to be prepared. I wish I would have thought this through a little more, but I’m sure I’ll have fun anyway. It’s just after the two stressful weeks I’ve had (being burned out on social activity and Clyde getting sick), I’m ready for a more relaxing weekend to prep. Plus I’m so stressed I started my period early for the second month in a row!!! I’m usually pretty regular but I started early last month when we had like 5 exams in a week, and then this month because of everything that’s been going on recently. Oh, and it’s the one-year anniversary of my mentor’s tragic death on Friday, so that’s cool.

On the bright side, as a women’s health scholar I got invited to attend a conference remotely on my university’s hospital’s OB/GYN Family Planning division. They talked about how evidence says you can use certain IUDs at least two years beyond their FDA-approved use, and how to have that discussion with patients. They also talking about this thing called pre-viability peterm premature rupture of membranes (PPROM) and whether therapeutic abortion could be used in those cases, especially since public universities aren’t allowed to perform them except if it endangers the mother’s life, which is very vague. So the discussion got a little heated. It was interesting. And they also discussed this recently published study in the NEJM, “Mefepristone Pretreatment for the Medical Management of Early Pregnancy Loss”, where mefepristone is correlated with better outcomes. And because it has so little contraindications and side-effects, wouldn’t it be cool if we could just offer it in pharmacies instead of mandating that women take it in front of a physician? Which is a pain for everyone involved and a barrier to care? Anyway, apparently they have these conferences monthly, so I’ll get to just listen in on my computer at home with a cup of coffee!!! It was at 7:30 AM tho so I am dead

more coffee?

#medblr #studyblr

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godamnarmsrace · 7 years

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I’m Just Screaming In Silence

AO3

Robert Week 2017 - Day 3 (6th September) - Free Day:

Two more steps down and he could see the whole living room. Terror gripped his heart in a tight fist when he finally saw Rebecca. She had a gun. Rebecca had a gun, and she was pointing it at his husband.

He's slow to wake, not sure what caused his shift in consciousness, but he can't breathe like something is weighing down his chest, dragging huge gasps of air out of him. The last moments of a nightmare leave panic clinging to his bones, threaten to swallow him whole, and it's all he can do to hold himself from shaking apart.

The bed is cold next to him when he reaches out, and harsh voices speaking in hushed tones filter up to him from downstairs.

He rolls over trying to untangle himself from tight, constrictive blankets that had previously soothed him, but now held him firm, trapped, pushing the panic to the surface.

Fear bleeds into everything, and for a moment he despairs the worst is happening. But it doesn't make sense; the voices downstairs don't fit. He’s alone, but he’s not alone. He hasn’t been abandoned, at least not yet.

Finally freeing himself from the tangle of his bed clothes he falls onto the ground, his knees smarting from the impact on the hard floor.

Now that he's unrestricted, he doesn't know what to do. He looks at the bed again when he makes it to his feet. He feels the absence of his husband like an ache he can't subside.

Creeping to the bedroom door, he opens it and steps out into the hall. His first instinct is to check on Liv, but then he remembers that she’s at Gabby’s for the night; both girls newly returned to the village eager to catch up and do whatever else teenage girls are wont to do.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, he can hear the voices more clearly, relief and fear twist together and battle with anger as he recognises the voices coming from below.

“This is all your fault!" Rebecca's voice was filling him with dread. He wants her gone, out of his house and away from his husband.

"It was never gonna be you, don't you understand that? It wouldn't have mattered what you did; it was never gonna be you.” There was something in his husband’s voice, a lazy acceptance that what was going to happen would happen, and it made the fear a living breathing thing, clawing at his gut and throat all at once. He needed to see him.

“You were never even a choice and whatever deluded thoughts or feelings you had, were never going to change a thing. Give up, get the fuck out of my house and leave my husband alone.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Always trying to protect each other, who cares who you hurt in the process, right?” Rebecca all but screamed.

"You came to Emmerdale of your own free will, no one forced you, and you've hurt people, ruined lives, don't lay that all on us," his husband stepped into view, a blinding relief and a terrible fear. He was calm under threat, but not when his man was so close by to be endangered too. She hadn’t seen him yet. Why wouldn’t she just leave them the hell alone?

He moved as silently down the metal staircase as he could, more than aware it offered little to no chance of hiding him from view. He didn’t know why, but his gut told him the element of surprise would be useful right now, but it was next to impossible with these damn stairs.

“I was invited remember. I was asked to come more than once,” Rebecca said, her voice shrill and piercing.

“You were used, a tool nothing more,” his husband said, and he looked and sounded so bored, as if thoroughly tired of this whole conversation.

It had taken them a while, but eventually, they had stopped fighting with each other long enough to realise that it was what Rebecca had wanted to drive a wedge between them both so that she could have Robert all to herself.

Chrissie had taken a little longer to wise up, but the phone call from her earlier this evening suggested that she knew there was something wrong with her sister. The word ‘obsession’ had been used, and he was pretty sure it was what had caused his nightmares.

“I think we’ve more than established that, but if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be standing here right now. This wouldn’t be happening. It’s all your fault,” Rebecca’s voice hushed as if she’d suddenly realised that she had been yelling and someone might hear her.

“It’s my fault that you didn’t get what you wanted? Really? You really are a crazy bitch,” his husband not able to keep up his carefree front any longer. “Okay, fine so what do I need to do to make you leave?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the spiral monstrosity opposite him.

“You can die, Aaron,” Rebecca said, following him with the gun.

“No!” Robert cried out running down the stairs behind her.

Startled, she spun, she could see them both and backed up, fast, from where Robert approached her.

"You don't understand; he has to die. If it weren't for him, you would have chosen me. We'd be together right now," Rebecca explained, her tone was soft like she was talking to a child and Robert almost felt sorry for her until he saw her steady her aim at Aaron.

“I would never have chosen you,” Robert said, afraid to move in case she hurt his husband. “Aaron, get out.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Aaron hissed at him. “I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

“Even now he won’t let us be alone. I tried to come to you tonight. I knew you’d be sad because it’s your mum’s anniversary, Vic told me, and I knew you'd need me to comfort you, but he stopped me,” she looked like she wanted to come to him and Robert knew what he needed to do.

“You need to let Aaron go. Give me the gun Bex,” he said, steady tones a cover to his quaking insides, he stepped closer to her.

“Robert no!” Aaron started to move too, causing Rebecca to more her finger to the trigger of the gun.

“See! He’s always going to be here, trying to come between us Robert, he has to die!”

Robert was so fucking scared. This could all go so wrong so fast. He didn't want to live without Aaron; he couldn't lose him. Not after all they'd been through. "If you shoot him,” his voice broke on the idea of Aaron being hurt, he had to spin it, had to turn her attention to him. "If you harm Aaron, then you'll get arrested, and then we'll never be together. Give me the gun, and he'll leave. We can finally be together it's what you want, right?”

“Robert, don’t!” Aaron said shaking his head at his husband.

“Aaron please,” Robert all but begged, he needed his husband out of here and somewhere safe.

"Shut up! You think I'm stupid? Even now you're just trying to protect him. Him!? Why? I could have given you everything. Money, status, power, me and a family. We could have had it all," Rebecca swung the gun at Robert, and suddenly he could breathe again properly now that Aaron wasn't in imminent danger.

If he was going to die though, he was going to die with Aaron’s name on his lips and his husband wasn’t ever going to doubt he was loved.

“We could never have had it all Bex. I’m sorry, but you don't even really know me. Even Chrissie didn't know me because I'd been lying and scheming since the day I met you both. Aaron let me be me, he saw all the good and the bad, and he loved me anyway, despite my shortcomings. It wasn’t a choice. I didn’t choose to fall in love with him, but I did, and there will never be anyone else for me. I could never love you, Rebecca, because my heart is too full of Aaron. He is my family,” Robert knew he was pushing her, that his words, although not designed specifically to hurt her, could push her over the edge and he needed her rage to be directed wholly at him.

“No, you wanted me,” Rebecca said, shaking her head like she could shake off the truth in his words.

“It was all lies, you made him think he’d slept with you and he didn’t,” Aaron said pulling her attention back to him.

“He still texted me, he still told me he wanted me just because he was too drunk doesn’t mean anything,” Rebecca argued, the gun in her hand still pointing at Robert.

Robert tried to shake his head at Aaron to get him to shut up and leave. Bloody idiot, didn’t he understand that Robert was trying to save him, to get him free and clear.

“He might have texted and told you what you wanted to hear, but he was falling apart. He thought he’d lost me and he had to get drunk off his face to go anywhere near you. What about the next day and the day after that, did he want you then? When you lied and told him he was going to be a father, did he want you then? No, he came home to me because he loves me,” Aaron taunted and damn him, Robert knew he was trying to get the damn gun pointed back at him. Damn him, for trying to save Robert right back. It just wouldn’t do.

If anything, ever happened to Aaron…

Sirens filled the air and Robert looked at Aaron in shock.

“I called them when she first broke in, I’ve had the line open all this time,” Aaron confessed.

Rebecca’s eyes were wild, the sound of the police coming had her shifting the gun between them as she backed up towards the front door. Robert took a few steps, as if to follow her when she left, but stopped and he planted himself in front of Aaron, shielding him from harm’s way.

“What does he have that I don’t?” she asked as shuffled backwards still point the gun at him. The alarm, the pitiful fear of being caught clear in her expression.

"He's my Aaron," Robert said, and he knew she wouldn't understand, no one could, but Robert knew, and he hoped Aaron did, that was all that mattered.

“That’s not an answer!” She yelled.

At that moment two things happened; Aaron tried to step in front of Robert, and Rebecca stumbled over the coffee table.

The noise from the gun seemed louder than Robert remembered. It wasn’t like the last time someone shot him, maybe because they were inside, perhaps that insulated the sound somehow. thoughts in a haze of pain. It hurt the same. Then a burning pain that told him the bullet had torn through his flesh, wreaking havoc as it went, but this too wasn’t important, it meant that Aaron was okay, he was safe.

“What did you do?” Aaron’s words seemed far away and over and over, he said the same thing first to Rebecca and then to Robert who’d pushed him out of the line of fire. “What did you do?”

“It was an accident! Robert! Robert!” Rebecca cried out.

“You better not die on me you bastard, you promised me until at least eighty, and I am holding you to it. Please, Robert, you can’t leave me. Please don’t do this,” Aaron said, fierce. Pressing his words into Robert’s chest where Aaron’s pushed down on his wound with his hands, his head against Robert as if listening to his heart beating.

It hurt. Fuck, it hurt, but it was different from the last time. Robert didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. “I love you, Aaron, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Aaron nodded pressing his lips to Robert’s and then he was being dragged away. The paramedics were ripping open Robert’s shirt and shouting orders.

He must have passed out because he came to in the ambulance, a worried looking Aaron with tears streaming down his face, holding his hand.

“He’s awake,” he said to someone, but Robert only cared about one thing.

“Are you okay?” he asked his husband.

Aaron pulled a face, not quite amused, but it shifted to disbelief too quickly for Robert to figure it out, “Am I okay? Are you fucking serious Robert? You got shot, again!”

“Rebecca?” he asked because he needed to make sure Aaron would be safe now.

“In police custody,” Aaron said, squeezing Robert’s hand tight.

He's slow to wake, not sure what caused his shift to consciousness, but he can't breathe, pain is weighing down his chest dragging huge gasps from out of him. The last moments of a nightmare leave panic clinging to his bones, thoughts of Aaron bleeding out on the ground in front of him threatening to swallow him whole. It’s only the hand holding his that keeps him grounded, “Aaron?”

“Shh, just rest. You’re going to be okay. The doctor said it was a miracle the bullet hit your sternum and glanced off the bone, but got stuck in the scar tissue from your old bullet wound before it could hit your heart. They were able to remove it without any trouble. You’re gonna be stuck here and sore for a while, but you’re going to be okay. Don’t ever fucking do that to me again!” Aaron spoke softly, shock still coursing through him. He puts his lips to their joined hands, then brushes small kisses against his cheek and over his mouth.

“I couldn’t let her hurt you,” Robert replied each word like a knife in his chest, fuck he’d been shot. He hadn’t missed this pain, but it was different this time. Aaron was here with him. “Stay?” he asked, even as he knew he should send Aaron home, he looked wrecked, and Robert knew better than anyone how uncomfortable those hospital chairs could be.

“That was never not an option. We need to get married legally too. I don't need it it's real, but the duty nurse tried to stop me from coming in here because intensive care is immediate family only and I can’t be told I don’t have a right to sit next to you by anyone. Oh, and I’m getting you a bulletproof vest for Christmas, at this point it seems like a solid investment. I can’t ever be without you, Robert.”

Robert stifled the urge to laugh at only because he knew it would hurt like hell if he did, they grinned at each other.

"Name the time and the place, and I'll be there Mr Sugden,” Robert said shifting slowly in the small bed. “Come here,” he said gesturing to the space he’d made.

“Don’t be dim Robert, you’ve been shot and just had surgery, whatever you're after will have to wait until we’re home,” Aaron said with a small smile and warm eyes.

“I just want to lie next to my husband. Please, Aaron, I could have lost you tonight,” Robert tried to use the hand holding his to tug Aaron to where he wanted him.

Aaron let out a small sigh and climbed carefully onto the bed next to Robert, “I’ll probably get kicked out of here for this, but I could have lost you too, and I still can't make myself believe that you are going to be okay. I love you, soft lad."

#robron #robertweek2017 #rw2017 #look ma I wrote something #zo'e did fic #otp #i love my boys #day 3 #robertlove #angsty with a happy ending #crazy pants rebecca #robert jacob sugden #emmerdale #robert sugden #oh god his everything is just so damn hot #how dare he even?

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seeroftodayandtomorrow · 7 years

Text

The Prince and the Moon God

Chapter 8

Read on AO3

He is wandering along the quay, trying to find some enjoyment in the sunny day or a speck of interest in the bustle of the port, when something actually catches his eye. It's a soldier in the blue-and-gold uniform of the royal guard, talking to someone of the city watch, showing him something. Blaine can't see well enough what, but he doesn't need to; he knows with ice-cold certainty that it's him, that it's a portrait of the missing prince. The guard is in the garish colors of the city's uniform; the bright yellow and orange has it made hard for Blaine to take them seriously as soldiers before. Now, he sees the blade sheathed at the guard's side, and he knows it's enough to take him if they find him.

He has been careless.

He thought they couldn't openly look for the amulet, because they can't have it known that it's missing, but he has forgotten that they can look for him.

He tries to think. The portrait will be bad, because it will have been done from memory; no one ever bothered to paint his likeness while he was actually there. He should be safe enough in the city, at least for now, if he takes care not to go to the same place too often.

The ship is another matter. He doesn't like to think of it, the crew are his friends. But if there is a reward—and if the reward is big enough...he just doesn't know. He needs the ship; he won't find another one to take him where he must go.

He vows that, at the very least, whatever happens, they won't get the amulet. He will throw it into the sea if he has too; if need be, he will throw himself right behind. It won't help Cooper, but it's better than giving himself and the amulet over into their hands.

But they haven't found him yet. There is still hope.

He walks back. Walks, doesn't run, even though he feels like it. He doesn't even turn up the collar of his cloak.

On the ship, he seeks out Kurt, who is standing at the wheel with Santana. Blaine would rather he be alone, but it can't be helped.

“Captain,” he says, “I put myself under your protection.”

“Come to my state room,” Kurt says, though he is all captain now, so even Santana doesn't question any of this.

Blaine feels he should be panting, or crying, or throwing himself at Kurt's feet. He doesn't; he goes down the stairs in measured steps, then sits down with measured movements across Kurt at the big chart table in the state room.

Kurt doesn't say anything, just looks at him expectantly, so Blaine finally clears his throat.

“I'm not a criminal,” he says, “not really, but...I'm not a merchant, either. As you've probably guessed.”

Kurt nods silently.

“People are looking for me. But they can't find me. There's more than my life at stake.”

Kurt nods again. The questions he asks are not the ones Blaine is dreading.

“Is it a person or persons looking for you, or an official institution?”

Blaine snorts. It's the crown. “I think you could call it an institution.”

“I'm afraid I don't have the authority to protect you from prosecution.”

“Kurt,” Blaine pleads, desperate. “I have to be go to the Moon Isle. It's a matter of -”

“However,” Kurt interrupts with a grin, “They can't get you if they can't find you. You will have to hide for as long as we are anchored here. I will try to speed up the proceedings, and when we're afloat again, we will go as fast as we can.”

Blaine hesitates, but he has to ask. “There might be a reward. Won't the crew -?”

“I told you before, we are a family here. Nobody will jeopardize that for a few coins. I vouch for them.”

The promise has to be enough. There's no possibility in the close quarters of the ship for the crew not to detect something's different. Kurt has Santana tell the crew not to reveal Blaine's location to anyone; he seems to think the mere order is enough. Blaine takes comfort in the knowledge that Santana will have elaborated with a few colorful threats.

They find him a place in the hold, so hidden behind their cargo Blaine wouldn't have known the nook was even there. It's cramped and uncomfortable. He has enough room to lie down with his knees drawn up, and he can sit but not stand. However, it's only for a few days, until they are finally ready to go, and as long as the coast is clear, he can walk in the hold.

As he lies down on his thin pallet, he can't sleep. Whatever it was that used to calm him before, that made his nights so peaceful, that made slipping into sleep seem like sinking into a lover's embrace, doesn't work anymore. Blaine is agitated, he tosses and turns in the tight space. He can't take out the amulet as he is wont to, because it shines so brightly now, and there can't be light in the cargo hold. Not one so white and cold, so different from a candle.

What's more, the ship seems to share his agitation. Even now, unmoving as they are, by day the ship rocks from the comings and goings of workers and delivery men. At night, though, it's usually as still as any house. It had taken him some time to get used to, accustomed as he is now to the constant movement and the way his body shifts to accommodate it.

Tonight, however, the ship rocks almost angrily. This is the emotion he gets from it: anger, and fear. Helplessness. A trapped animal trying to break its bonds. Or maybe they are only his own emotions. But he doesn't imagine the rocking. Voices on deck confirm that the water is wilder than water in a harbor has any right to be, and the ship seems to exaggerate the movement. Sailors come into the hold to adjust shifted cargo before Santana can have their hide for neglecting it so much it even has to be adjusted.

Sighing, Blaine rises and helps. His knots are good now, and though he has no idea how cargo has to be stocked, he can tie it where he is shown.

He would like to go up on deck and stand beside Kurt, keeping watch.

They come the next night, when he has finally fallen asleep. The sea is turbulent again although there is no wind, and Blaine feels troubled. The crew seem to take it as normal, though, and so he tries not to let it worry him. But he also feels restless, tired of the confines of his hiding place after only a day. Puck had come to play cards with him for an hour or so earlier, and this morning, Kurt had surprised him by carrying a tray down and sitting down on the floor to eat with him. But he hasn't done much else, and not talked to anyone else, and so he is glad when it's finally time to go to sleep.

But he is even more agitated than the night before, and the ship is rocking even more, and when he finally falls asleep, he wakes up again with ragged gasps, because this time when he sinks into the Moon Lake, he drowns.

He wakes from footsteps, voices coming down into the hold. It's Kurt, calm and cool and not nearly as sleep-addled as the guards were no doubt hoping he would be as he leads them down, carrying a lantern in one hand.

He lets them look around the hold, a few hands in tow to rearrange the cargo the soldiers move without care for the balance of the load. He is composed as he declares that of course he doesn't harbor any fled princes, that there's nothing in his hold but salt fish and hard tack, as most of his cargo was spoiled in the storm that forced them to stop here.

Blaine is not so calm. He dares not move, even though his legs start falling asleep; he hardly dares breathe. His heart beats so loudly he fears they will hear it, and he feels he is close to dying when a soldier's boot stops only inches from his elbow.

At long last, however, they leave, and he hears Kurt thank them a bit too loudly and almost unnoticeably sarcastic for their visit.

It is still some minutes before he moves, slowly stretching his limbs, gritting his teeth against the needles and pins. He tells his beating heart to slow down, that the danger is over, but it still seems worried, and after a while, he realizes he is too. Because how can he do this? He is endangering Kurt and the crew, all of them. If they had found him—he doesn't know what the punishment would be, but they don't deserve to be brought in this situation.

It can't be helped, though. He is quite aware he has no other options. What he has to do is more important than any one person, or any one ship.

He can but hope he won't bring them down with him.

He is sitting on a crate, thinking about going back to sleep, when Kurt comes back. In the light of the lantern Blaine can see he isn't as calm as he seemed; there's a set to his shoulders and in the lines of his face that suggests anger, and fear.

“We might have to cut the repairs short,” he says, rubbing his neck. “Make do with what's done. One of the guards let slip that they'll shut down the harbor in a few days, if you haven't been found. We must be away by then.”

Blaine nods silently.

“Don't you think you owe me an explanation?” Kurt asks, sitting down on the crate beside Blaine. The ship is rocking too much for it to be safe to put the lantern down, so he keeps holding it. The flickering light throws moving, threatening shadows on the walls.

Blaine nods. He doesn't meet Kurt's eyes. “I can't tell you everything, but if you listen, I will tell you as much as I can.”

He shifts uneasily, takes a breath, tries to sort his thoughts and decide what can be told and what can't. He owes Kurt the truth, but he can't tell it, not now. He will tell him as much as he can, and write the rest in a letter before they reach the Moon Isle.

“Those that look for me....they are men of the king,” he says and hears Kurt gasp. “If they catch me, they will bring me back to the capital, and then I will be killed.”

“But why?” Kurt whispers.

“It's nothing I have done, it's because of what I am,” Blaine says. It's as far as he dares to go. The general public knows little about the royal family's worship of the Moon God, and nothing about what keeps them in power. Still, he can't say too much.

“I have also taken...something.” His hand automatically goes to his throat, to the amulet that hangs around his neck, under his shirt, wrapped in a kerchief. It seems to vibrate beneath his touch. “I didn't steal it, technically; it belongs to my family, but they...those who are looking for me, they want it.”

There is a long moment of silence afterwards. Then Kurt sighs and rises. “I will take you to the Moon Isle,” he promises and turns to go. Blaine has the sinking feeling that this is final, that although their journey will take a few weeks still, this is a farewell.

“Kurt? I'm—I'm sorry.”

Kurt nods and leaves.

They stay until mid-afternoon the next day. When the light begins to fade, they dismiss the workers, who pack up their tools and wait to get paid. They hoist anchor as soon as they have left, while the crew is still sweeping the sawdust off the deck. The ship is rocking more than ever, which doesn't make their task any easier, but at nightfall, they are under way, and Blaine dares to come out of the hold. He stands at the railing, breathing in the salty air, looking back at the lights of the city that has so very nearly become a trap. He has escaped, he is safe for now, and he is on the way to his destination, to his destiny. Somehow, though, he feels more lost than ever before.

#fic: the prince and the moon god #klaine fanfiction

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leaparrish · 7 years

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As The World Falls Down || Noah & Lea

08/29/17 - Noah and Lea return to the Zoo, and things take a bit of a dramatic turn.

The message on the newspaper's site had said 'healing spell'. Which Lea could do. Easy-peasy totally fine. She sat up in her bed - it was only 7am, and since it was still summer vacation. One more day, but still technically summertime, Dustin was asleep. Dustin was asleep, her father was asleep, and her mother was already at work. Which meant that if she was going to act, she had to do so now. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and yawned. Stood up and quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a purple t-shirt, and a Barnard sweatshirt that one of her aunts had sent her. She quickly slipped her feet into ballet flats and tiptoed down the stairs, grabbing her bike from the garage before setting off for the zoo. Once she'd arrived at the gates (locked, thanks to the decree her father had helped to put in place) she gave a tug against them before huffing. She had to help the town, didn't these stupid gates get that?! Lea pushed against them again, making a space just barely big enough to squeeze through. Once she was through, she sighed and pulled out her phone. Opening up a new text to Noah, she typed it out quickly. 'Had an idea. At Zoo. All's good.' He was probably asleep anyhow.

Feeling his phone buzz within the confines of his sports bag Noah sighed slightly keys jingling in his hand. It was the first day back to morning practices for the football team and while he’d survived the switch, Noah couldn’t help but feel like he’d be run over by a bus or something. A large 250 pound bus wearing pads, that didn’t care that his stupid shoulder had a 5 inch gash in it. Or at least that’s whay Eliza had said when she looked at it. It felt like 10 sometimes though. Getting to his car though Noah dug out his phone not really wanting to answer but needing to know who was texting him at the butcrack of dawn I eman he hardly knew why he was up this early let alone why any one else would be. Looking down at the text id though Noah stopped, Lea. Why the heck would she be texting him at this hour? And from the very dangerous and now closed Zoo of all places. Hitting the call button Noah opened the door to his car, stepping right back into the big brother mode he’d left behind all those years ago. “Hey, Why are you at the Zoo?” He asked when she picked up.

Lea jumped when her phone rang, but quickly picked it up. "Because I've got to help." She squeaked out. "This town is my home and maybe, if I can do something to help make sure it doesn't all go to hell, it will give us a break for a moment. No more disappearing animals, no more mobile snowmen." She sighed, running a hand loosely through her hair. "Sorry if I woke you up, but I figured it was basic politeness to text you, y'know." Lea pressed her phone against her ear and against a shoulder, quickly digging a pebble out of her shoe. "That's all, don't you worry about it!"

Sighing at her initial response Noah tossed his gym bag across the center console “First I would just like to say that helping doesn’t mean you have to go rushing head first into a burning building, or in this case a raging portal with demon problems.” Noah pointed out as he slid into the truck “And second what do you mean by help?” It was a legitimate and serious question, because he had no idea how she could even help at this point. I mean to Noah it just seemed like there were more portals popping up every day in the news and more and more stories of these monster things walking around before having to be dispatched with. Violently. Something he didn’t exactly think tiny little Lea should be out doing. Closing the door to his truck though Noah just placed his hands on his truck steering wheel, begging the lords above for more strength, or like some coffee. Yea coffee would be nice right about now. “Also I wasn’t asleep. But now I am actually worried. So you should spill before I just drive over to the Zoo myself and see what you’re up to.”

"I am aware of that." Lea said, sighing. "But sometimes you've gotta do things." She bit down on her lip at his question - there was no way she was going to out of the blue tell a still-near-stranger what she was, what she could do. "Oh, you know - borrowed some legendary weapon, that should do it." She new it sounded fake, but it wasn't like telling the truth would make Noah believe her, and then she'd have outed herself, so double-bad. "I'm fine! You're welcome to continue on your day, I just wanted to call you to," she sighed, "because you told me to, though that might've been a mistake." Lea ducked as a tiny flying - cow?! - whizzed past her. She had to make sure the animals were safe, that her family was safe, that this near-freaking-stranger was safe. "You don't have to come!" She squeaked, ducking again, "I promise, I'm sorry for calling you and worrying you! It was all a bad dream, I'm in my bed at home and my brother'd freak out if you came over."

Resisting the urge to just bang his head against the steering wheel in frustration Noah just shouldered his phone, grabbing his seatbelt and pulling it over his body “Hope you know that was not convincing in the slightest” He breathed out once he was buckled in knowing that he was not going back home. Because there was no legendary weapon he knew that, and she knew that. What he didn’t know however was why she was trying to keep him at arm’s length. “Lea, I don’t want to just continue on my day I want to make sure you’re ok” he said seriously into the phone as he put the keys into the column. And that was when he heard it the little squeak in her voice telling him his hunch was right. “And Judging by the sound you just made you’re not.” Noah muttered to himself before he revved his engine. He didn’t usually drive while on the phone but he was making an exception for her “Also don’t try to lie to me, It’s too fucking early for that kid.” He gritted out easing the old 67 chevy out onto the main road. Not waiting for an answer though he updated her on his position “So I’m just pulling out onto Ranch road now I should be at the Zoo in 10 minutes. Get somewhere safe and just talk to me ok. Tell me a story. Like about your brother. Tell me about him.”

"It is too convincing." Lea muttered. He didn't need to get hurt. Nobody needed to, she could solve all of this and make sure that her best friends, her family, and even people like AJ and Blanche who she'd grown fonder of than she was wholly able to admit didn't get hurt. Noah might have been almost a foot taller and almost twice her weight, but that didn't mean that he needed to endanger himself right now. "I am okay!" She squeaked again, "and I'm not lying! My brother would be mad if you showed up in my room. I've got experience with that, but that's not the point right now. I'm listening to Taylor Swift and I am fine." She began walking towards where the goats had been, taking in a deep breath. "What about my brother? He's a dork and annoying. Like all older brothers." He was going to be a Senior, starting tomorrow. "Why do you wanna know about him, anyhow?" A small snake slithered by her, before it grew legs and began walking. "What the hell?" Lea squeaked again. "So, why are you up so early anyhow?"

“Lea cut the crap, you literally texted me that you were at the Zoo five minutes ago” Noah huffed into the phone grateful for once that it was so early, and the roads were clear. He might even make it to the Zoo in like 6 minutes if he caught all the right lights.“Plus I’m all hopped up on adrenaline here so I’m going to the zoo to fight some portal monsters whether you want me too or not” He said into the phone hoping that that might get her to change her tune. Listening to her keep lying to him though Noah rolled his eyes. “I know taylor swift and nothing in the background sounds like taylor Swift, so you’re going to have to find a better lie than that one” He continued biting his lip slightly as he hit a red light. Ugh. Well there went some of his speed. “And I don’t really need to know about him, I just want you to keep talking so I know you’re ok and that seemed like a safe subject” He shrugged in his car aware that she couldn’t see it. Tensing as she squeaked into the phone Noah willed himself to calm down. just a few more minutes and you’ll be there and she wont like die or anything and all will be ok. Ok noah he thought to himself before answering her latest question with a grumbling “Football practice.”

"I - fine." She sighed, fiddling with the edge of her sweatshirt. "Fighting the monsters isn't even the most important, they're all freaking weird right now, but haven't done anything." The word yet hung empty in the air, implied well enough but not stated. "It's her new song. It sounds funny through the phone. Fine, it's not Taylor Swift." Lea sighed again as she began half-jogging toward where the portal was. "Football's cool, I guess. I do field hockey, which you know, obviously." She tapped her free hand against her thigh. She'd manage this, it'd all be fine. The biggest healing she'd ever have done, and would likely ever do, but she could handle this. She skidded to a stop just about twenty feet away from where the portal was, the air and wind from it whipping her hair around.

“Yet” Noah retorted flying over the west bridge over the Whye river. Because he wasn’t going to let a word like that hang in the air for too long. “And that’s what I thought, plus her new song sounds like that I’m too sexy for my shirt song, or so I’m told” He shrugged out cheeks going slightly pink. There was nothing wrong with liking Taylor Swift ok. But fighting off the slight embarrassment Noah was glad the Lea kept talking to him, even though he could hear that she was doing anything but laying low and staying still. “Yea its my last year too so it’s going to be a little sad” He replied finally pulling into the parking lot of the Ashkent Creek zoo and aquarium. Shutting off the engine faster than humanly possible, Noah opened the door and leapt out already hearing the sound of the portal through the phone. “I’m here, and I’m hanging up. Don’t do anything rash till I get there” Noah said before he hung up the phone praying she really wouldn’t do anything stupid in the 2 minutes it would take his mutant werewolf body to vault over the fences and get to the goat enclosure. Closing the door to his truck Noah picked up the bat he had stashed in the back of his truck before he made a beeline to the park entrance, his tired legs aching.

"I don't know that song. It's probably too old for me anyhow. I only turned fifteen this year." Lea nodded, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, trying to push away any lingering anxiety that kept swirling around her brain. "Cool, it's my brother's last year of high school." She paused, rolling her eyes. "I'm fine. But bye, I guess. See you soon." She shoved her phone into her purse (one of the mini ones from Vera Bradley), before stepping a little bit closer to the portal, giving a small flick of her fingers. She couldn't touch it, but she'd just have to use all her will and might to get it to close - and it would work, she'd make sure of it.

Getting to the entrance Noah tossed his bat over the fencing noting where it landed so he could grab it later. And now it was time for the fun part, getting over a fence he wasn’t supposed to get over. Yay. Feeling his muscle protest at the work they were doing Noah gritted his teeth and just manhandled his way over the gate and back down onto the concrete on the other side. Looking back though Noah did have to smile at himself. Yea take that you fucking gate, you’re no match for a werewolf on a mission are ya? He thought to himself before picking up his bat and running to join the other girl. “Hey! You better not be starting the party without me” He yelled her way brandishing his bat as he sprinted down the path and skidded to a halt next to the goat enclosure.

Lea was not going to back down. There was no way, no how, that she was going to give this portal-thing that she didn't even fully understand the upper hand. At the sound of Noah's voice she whipped her head around, hair hitting her back and her shoulder. "What, the party doesn't start until you walk in, or something? I've not done anything yet, but like I said - you don't need to do anything!" She huffed, ducking as another tiny flying cow zoomed by. In fact, you being around while I do what I am going to do might be worse for all of us.Lea sighed and took another few steps toward the portal. "This shouldn't take too long, but you might wanna close your eyes." She chewed on her lower lip, "or, I dunno, make sure no imaginary creatures have made their way out of this."

“No it does not!” He replied vaulting over the goat enclosure fence with relative ease, adrenaline now coursing through him. Looking at her as she suggested he close his eyes though Noah raised an eyebrow “Why would I want to do that?” He asked. “I mean I doubt you want me to play demon pinata blind” He asked waving his bat around a little again. He’d thought about adding nails to, like Negan from the Walking dead. But he figured that might be taking it a little too far, so he just settled for good old trusty wood. Standing there next to her though Noah put on his game face on eye darting from Lea to the portal “Lets do this.”

"No, I don't, but," you also can't see what I'm about to do, "you know, if this thing closes the way it might, and if it makes a big flash of light, I don't want you getting blinded or whatever." Lea brushed a strand of hair from her face and gave a sharp nod, taking another few steps towards the portal, reaching out one of her hands to try and sense whatever energy she had to have felt on Sunday. She waved her fingers softly, trying to send out a feeling of closure, of healing. Far more than any baby birds in her backyard, or even compared to AJ's injury. She sucked in a deep breath of air and reached up her other hand, not bothering to look to see what Noah was doing. This would require incredible attention. Black holes - or whatever this was - didn't have anatomy, but it was a tear in the universe (Dustin would understand this more, and maybe Lea really did need to take a physics course at some point), which meant it could be healed just the same. Had to be.

“Trust me I’ll survive,” Noah grunted out eyes zoning in on a large centipede like creature that was flying out of the portal thing. Stepping forward Noah took a swing careful not to disturb Lea and well whatever she was starting to work on. His mission after all was to keep her safe and that was exactly what he was going to do. Watching the portal again Noah sung his bat round as an alligator like creature popped his head out. Banishing it back into the rainbow hole of doom. Or whatever it actually was.

"You'd better." Lea muttered, not daring to take her eyes off of the portal in front of her. Focusing all of her energies towards it. On fixing it - even though she couldn't magic her friends into leaving AJ alone, and she couldn't fix Dustin's chronic asthma, and she couldn't fix the fact that her parents kept fighting when they thought that nobody could hear. She smiled a bit when she noticed that it started to close, just slightly. Every bit of progress in this had to count, and Lea briefly shrugged her purse off her shoulder and let it fall onto the ground. Balance in her own body would have to be key.

Watching her work for a few seconds Noah just smiled. She was actually closing the portal, wow, she must be a witch. How cute. But what wasn’t cute was the large black hand that came out of the portal again bracing against the edges, like it didn’t want it to close. “Watch out” Noah yelled as the other black hand reached out as if to swipe at the girl. Good lord The portal was fighting back. But luckily for them Lea had brought back up. Or rather Noah had forcibly made himself her back up… but you know semantics. Diving in front of her Noah took aim at the hand again smashing one of the long fingers into the ground before it could reach Lea. “Keep up the good work ok” Noah encouraged with a smile, before lifting his bat and attacking the hand again.

"Shit!" Lea said, ducking briefly as the hand swiped out at her. "Yeah, I'm working on it." She took in a shaky breath, letting her gaze break briefly from the portal to where Noah lay. There was no way he knew what exactly she was doing - no way that she was going to so obviously go against her mother's wishes. In that brief moment of faltering Lea let go on her concentration and the creature seemed to push right up against the edges of the portal. "Oh, no you do not!" She glared, taking a few steps more toward the portal, trying to regain the strength she'd had before. She just needed to manage this, manage this and all would be well and fine. Even though she could already feel her brain growing slightly foggier.

Still whacking away Noah felt the bead of sweat drop down his forehead and his arm start to throb with a dull ache. He’d almost forgotten about the scratch these might claws had given him if not but two days ago, but he definitely couldn’t forget about it now. Pulling himself back into a standing position Noah trained his eye on the other hand trying to keep the portal open. Yea that was the hand he needed to get but how? Hearing Lea start to get into it though Noah couldn’t help but, well want to help. “You tell ‘em Lea!” he yelled hoping to keep this energy up, or rather his energy up. Especially not he was starting to feel this morning's practice already weighing heavy on his bones. Glancing back up at the hand though Noah prepared himself for a small running leap swinging the bat against the creatures knuckles as hard as he could.

She wasn't going to let anyone in this town die. She wasn't going to screw this up, even though she didn't have as much experience as whomever had posted that notice would have likely expected. But the edges of the portal started to ripple again and started to pull shut, still slowly, but with progress. Lea bit her lip softly and focused everything she had toward it. This was more than baby animals in their backyards, even more than the head-splitting headaches she'd on occasion done her best to partially take from Jenna and Katie. She concentrated on imagining the zoo just as it had been, on making it so that people could come and visit. Because she didn't hate Ashkent, even though it was incredibly odd at times - there was no reason that if she could do something she shouldn't. Besides, this was nothing more than a giant wound, which meant she could handle it no problem. Her head was feeling a bit heavy, and she did notice her fingertips shaking just slightly, but she kept concentrating on making sure that it closed, pulling her fingers towards one another (without interlocking them, but moving them close-by), keeping her body tense but calm, all in one. Trying to not be anxious about the fact that she was full-on willingly admitting to somebody who was still technically a basic stranger that she could do magic. With a final movement of her hands, even clapping them together at last, she pulled the portal together. "Noah?" She called out, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think it's -" Her head was swimming, and she felt her whole body grow weaker and go slack as she began to collapse toward the ground, eyes shut.

And just like that in one second he was trying to beat a large demonic pair of hands back into the simmering portal thing, and the next it was gone. Like it had just been plucked out of the sky by some higher power. Taking a sigh of relief Noah almost didn;t know anything was wrong until he turned and saw Lea drained of color and going downhill fast. Shit. Diving toward Lea Noah slid slightly hands out to catch whatever he could. And Luckily for her he was able to catch her head before it smacked against the hard dirt. She’d have bruises on the rest of her body yes, but at least she wouldn’t have accidentally given herself a concussion. Feeling his heart start to beat wildly in his chest Noah tried to bite back the panic “It’s ok, It’s ok.” He breathed out with a slight cough, if only for his own benefit. Because she wasn’t dead she couldn’t be dead she was just….. Army crawling his way into a sitting position he held her head gingerly in his lap. She didn’t look dead. But only vitals would tell. Reaching out for her arm Noah took her pulse. Weak but there. Thank god. “Lea?” He questioned shaking her a little bit, but she didn’t stir. “Lea” he said a bit more firm freaking out even more. But this time there was a murmur, something that would have maybe come from the mouth of a sleeping child. “Thank fucking god” Noah whispered before laying her gingerly back down. No major brain damage as of yet, she had a pulse, and she was responsive even if it was pretty weak. OK he could work with that. “Lets get you to the truck first and I can figure out what to do from there” Noah muttered as he scooped her up in his arms and started the long walk back to his truck.

#touchofchatzy #touchoffinale #c noah #chatzy #as the world falls down #// dramatic title is dramatic #also for the chatzy :------)#ten points to whoever knows what title is in reference to #hope you all enjoy :)#let me know if this needs any trigger warnings #though it was chosen more for the title and not for the song itself haha

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ford fiesta insurance 22 year old

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ford fiesta insurance 22 year old

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ford fiesta insurance 22 year old

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asimplerepublican-blog · 7 years

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New Post has been published on A Simple Republican

New Post has been published on http://simplerepublican.com/human-needs/

Human Needs

Several years ago in Antigua, Guatemala. My father, brother and myself decided to ride a difficult trail in the Water Volcano roughly 30 minutes from the old capital of Guatemala. The views were fantastic and the day beautiful. The country of Guatemala is a gorgeous place full of vibrant rain forests teeming with all sorts of wild life. The kind of creatures you see only on television.

We had three ATV’s my father and made off to the trail. Our ascent was incredibly quick. We made good time until we started to enter heavier and thicker foliage. At this point we were already several hours in and decided to turn back. Hunger and the prospect of riding in darkness are strong deterrents.

As our descent progressed we noticed several farm workers running up the in the opposite direction. At first glance we paid no mind to this and continued on down. As we approached a narrow bend with particularly heavy foliage on one side, six armed men machetes and hand guns jumped out as we were passing. I would like to take a moment and say that unless you are a trained professional in handling situations of this nature, you will most likely freeze or do something stupid that will get you killed. The uncertainty of continued life tends to paralyze all but the most hardened or trained men. I understand clearly now why the military places so much emphasis on following orders regardless of “feelings”. Those orders and actions will save your life.

As the men moved closer to us I could see they held the trigger finger right on the shooting position. As anyone who has ever held a gun will tell you. Big mistake! Accidental fire is a real thing. They proceed to surround us and began to search all our pockets and equipment. I began to pray. I remember kneeling voluntarily. Here your thoughts become very singular in nature. For me it was preservation. Preservation of life. The saying my life “flashed before my eyes” I take to understand something differently. At this moment you ponder death. You wonder how your family and loved ones would react and continue without you. At least this is were my mind took me.

After taking everything that was loose and could be carried easily the men shouted all sorts of profanities and threatened us again telling us we were lucky they didn’t leave our dead bodies on this trail. They disappeared into the foliage. It took several minutes for us to gather our wits and decide they were actually gone. We made back to our house and stopped by some local law enforcement and explained to them what had happened. Of course there was no expectation of recovering anything or apprehension of these criminals. As we made it back we all gave each other the same look and knew that what had occurred would always be with us. It was one of those moments engraved into the psyche.

I spent many months thinking about this event. The people that robbed us at gun point. My younger brother and how he was affected. My father and the sense of culpability. I rationalized this event in very basic terms.

Human needs. The ever classic pyramid style of necessities come to mind. Better know as Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. As the lower tiers of needs are met then we being to look up towards the other “necessities” which can bring feelings of happiness and fulfillment in our daily lives. When our needs are not being fulfilled and society “fails” to provide adequate opportunity, then the basic functions human nature will take over. Here there will a crucial path every individual placed under these circumstances will need to make. Will I endanger my life and that of my fellow man to obtain the basic necessities or will I persevere in some other fashion (i.e. hard work, determination, faith).

Where will that moral compass take you? Will you let society and the circumstance control your actions? Will they drive you to a life of petty crime and eventual premature death? Or will you confront this obstacle with the determination of a flowing white rapid river, breaking and molding everything to its will with time.

Most people wont know these circumstances until they are enveloped in some event that makes them choose. Forcing that vital moral decision between good and evil. These people made the wrong choice. I pray then that they never have to pay the ultimate price for their decision.

#Opinion

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globlenet-blog · 7 years

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What Happens When A Terrorist Attacks A Trump Property?

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/what-happens-when-a-terrorist-attacks-a-trump-property/

What Happens When A Terrorist Attacks A Trump Property?

The Long Run Based On Trump

Mix-published from TomDispatch.com

Are you able to doubt which were inside a dystopian age, even when remained as four days from Jesse Trump entering the Oblong Office? Never within our lifetimes are we experienced such vivid previews of the items unfettered capitalism will probably mean within an ever more unequal country, since its form of 1% politics has elevated towards the pinnacle of power a bizarre millionaire and the basket of deplorables. Im referring, obviously, to not his supporters but to his picks for that greatest posts within the land. Included in this are a number of generals prepared to bring us right into a new set of crusades along with a crew of billionaires and multimillionaires ready to make America their own again.

Its already a stunningly depressing moment also it hasnt even begun. At the minimum, it calls upon average folks to increase towards the occasion. Which means mustering a dystopian imagination that suits the age in the future.

I probably have that youre as capable like me of making bleak scenarios for future years of the country (to not talk about the earth). But simply to obtain the ball moving around the eve from the holidays, allow me to provide you with a handful of my very own dystopian fantasies, centered on the possibility actions of President Jesse Trump.

There’s already a massive literature practically a library of writings on the unique president-elects potential conflicts of great interest. He is doing, in the end, own, or lease his name to, various towers, elite courses, clubs, hotels, condos, residences, and you never know what else in a minimum of 18 to 20 countries. That name of his, almost always in impressive gold lettering, soars to striking heights in foreign skies over the planet. Nowadays, actually, the Trump brand and it is conflicts are difficult to flee, from Indonesia, the Philippines, and Dubai to Scotland, India, and also the very heart of Manhattan Island. There, within my own hometown, at a price to local taxpayers much like me in excess of a million bucks each day, law enforcement are protecting him in a major way, as the Secret Service and also the military add their heft towards the growing armed camp in mid-Manhattan. They’re, obviously, protecting the Trump Tower the one out of which, in June 2015, to Neil Youngs Rockin within the Free World, he rode that escalator into the presidential campaign, promising to construct an excellent wall, lock-out all Mexican rapists, making America great again.

That tower on busy Fifth Avenue has become fronted by dump trucks full of sand (to assist safeguard the Republican presidential nominee from potentially explosive attacks) and, using the safety from the president and the family in your mind, the key Services are apparently thinking about renting out a few floors from the building at a price towards the American citizen of $3 million yearly, which may, obviously, go into the coffers of the Trump company. (Hey, no conflict of great interest there and have no idea mention the term kleptocracy!) All this will unquestionably make sure that New Yorks most Trump-worthy building, also known as the White-colored House North, is going to be stored reasonably protected from intruders, attackers, suicide bombers, and so on. But a lot of the imperial Trump brand all over the world might not be quite as lucky. Elsewhere, pads will normally be private hires, not government employees, and also the money readily available for any security plans will, consequently, be much more modest.

With rare exceptions, the attention from the media has centered on just one facet of Jesse Trumps conflict-of-interest issues (and they’re rampant), to not talk about his urge to duck what he may do about the subject, or dodge and weave to avoid a guaranteed news conference to go over them and also the role of his children in the presidency and the companies. The emphasis has generally been in the sorts of issues that would arise from the businessman having a branded name visiting power and benefiting from, or selection in line with the money to make from, his presidency. Media reports have generally zeroed in, for example, about how foreign leaders yet others might affect national policy by basically promising to enhance Trump or his children. They set of diplomats who feel obliged to remain at his new hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue just lower the road in the White-colored House or foreign heads of condition reaching out to him via his partners within their lands or Trump brand deals which are now going through in a variety of countries because of his election victory.

The main focus is nearly almost always regarding how to deal with a president who, not less than the following 4 years, could are in position to profit in your mind-boggling ways from his various functions at work (or just in the position he holds, even when he is doing nothing). Making no mistake, that issue might indeed edge Trumps presidency in to the truly dodgy, not saying paradigm breaking, with regards to a brief history from the White-colored House. But dont call that dystopian.

What couple of people (the key Service aside) are planning on may be the ways that conflicts of great interest could take in the new president by threatening to not enrich, but impoverish him (and the children). Mind lower that path and trust me youre instantly in dystopian territory.

Heres a predicament for you personally:

Its April 1, 2017. Jesse J. Trump has been around office for under 2 . 5 several weeks whenever a nattily outfitted businessman seems to enter Trump Towers Istanbul, which soars in to the skyline from the Turkish capital using the name from the new American president impressively done in gold letters atop certainly one of its towers. Once within the lobby, that man, a messenger in the Islamic Condition who managed to get with the complexs private security screening having a suicide vest shackled by his body, blows themself up, killing a doorman, a burglar screener, and numerous residents, while wounding twelve others.

Obviously, Ive never visited Trump Towers Istanbul, and so i dont figure out what safety measures have established yourself there in the middle of that already explosive capital, but because of the Trump projects scattered all over the world, you can pick your personal branded building, resort, or hotel. Which initial explosion would certainly be considered a start. Remember it only cost Osama bin Laden a reported $400,000 to stage the 9/11 attacks and lure the Plant administration into some trillion-dollar unsuccessful wars that will help spread terror movements over the Greater Middle East and Africa. So don’t for any second think the leadership of ISIS (or similar groups) wont see the benefits of delivering such messengers inexpensively to obtain underneath the oh-so-thin-skin from the new American president and embroil him in god knows what.

Picture this too: its 2018. China and also the U.S. are in loggerheads over the Taiwan strait, pressures and feelings are rising again in northern Africa, where ongoing American military assaults in Libya and Somalia only have elevated the pre-Trumpian chaos, plus the heartlands from the Middle East where, despite massive American bombing campaigns, ISIS, once more a guerilla group without territory, causes chaos. Additionally, in Afghanistan, 17 years after Americas second Afghan War started, the U.S.-backed government in Kabul is tottering when confronted with new Taliban, ISIS, and al-Qaeda offensives. Massive waves of immigrants all these unsettled lands still endanger an angry Europe, and everywhere anti-Americanism is rising, not inside a generalized sense, but focused in rage around the American president and the much-beloved brand.

Imagine too as it were growing demonstrations, protests, and so on, all targeted at various towers, clubs, resorts, and condominiums within the Trump stable. And think about precisely what a mixture of threatened terror attacks and roiling demonstrations, in addition to growing anger within the Trump name over the Islamic world and elsewhere, might mean towards the profitability from the presidents brand. Now, consider the Trump towers in Pune, India, or even the 75-story tower in Mumbai, or even the six-star luxury resort in Indonesia, or even the tower rising in Manilas Century City (each a higher-finish Trump-labeled project likely to come online soon and all sorts of, except Pune, at past sites of devastating terror bombings). What’s going to their proprietors do if prospective buyers, fearing for his or her comfort, health, or perhaps lives, start to flee? What goes on once the hotels cant maintain their rooms filled, the condominiums lose their bidders, and also the Trump brand all of a sudden starts to empty out?

There’s, obviously, no be certain that this type of factor may happen, however if you simply pause and think about the possibility, it is not difficult to imagine. Next, consider what you know about Jesse Trump, a guy inordinately happy with his logo and sensitive beyond belief. Now, attempt to imagine as well as in Trumpian terms were speaking in regards to a truly dystopian world here what American foreign policy might seem like if, among the fears of resort-goers, golfers, business types, and so on, that brand started to tank worldwide, if raising individuals giant gold letters over any city immediately ensured either mind-boggling problems or staggering security costs (and, at least, a existence of TSA-style lines for consumers).

IMG 1 TT

Indeed, if the Trump brand starts to go belly up, knowing what we do about the president-elect, we would be almost certain to see a foreign policy increasingly devoted to saving his brand and under those circumstances in the words of former Condition Department official Peter Van Buren what might fail?

Now, that is dystopian territory.

Assassin-in-Chief

Allow me to add another dystopian fantasy as to the clearly happens to be an endless string of these. As it were, lets consider the subject of presidential assassinations. With that I do not mean assassinated presidents like Lincoln subsequently, McKinley, or Kennedy. Things I are thinking about may be the modern presidential urge to assassinate others.

Since a minimum of Dwight Eisenhower, American presidents will be in the camp ground from the assassins. With Eisenhower, it had been the CIAs plot against Congolese Pm Patrice Lumumba with John Kennedy (and the brother, Attorney General Robert Kennedy), it had been Cubas Fidel Castro with Richard Nixon (and the Secretary of Condition Henry Kissinger), it had been the killing of Chilean President Salvador Allende inside a U.S.-backed military coup, that was even the first 9/11 attack (September 11, 1973).

In 1976, within the wake of Watergate, President Gerald Ford would outlaw political murder by executive order, a ban reaffirmed by subsequent presidents (although Taxation did direct U.S. Air Pressure planes to explosive device Libyan autocrat Muammar Gaddafis home). Because this new century started, however, the sexiest high-tech killer around, the appropriately named Predator drone, could be equipped with Hellfire missiles and sent into action within the fight against terror, creating the potential of presidential assassinations on the scale nothing you’ve seen prior imagined. Its subsequent missions threatened to produce a Terminator form of the world.

In the behest of two presidents, George W. Plant and Obama, a number of such automatic assassins would enter in the past unique terrain as global hunter-killers outside official American war zones. They as well as their successors, Reaper drones (as with the Harsh Reaper), could be dispatched on mass murder sprees that haven’t yet finish which were largely organized within the White-colored House itself with different regularly updated, presidentially approved kill list.

In this manner, obama, his aides, and the advisors grew to become judge, jury, and executioner for terror suspects (though often enough any man, lady, or child who been nearby) midway all over the world. When I wrote in 2012, along the way, the commander-in-chief grew to become a lasting assassin-in-chief. Now, presidents were given the job of overseeing the removal of countless individuals other lands with a feeling of legality granted them in secret memos through the lawyers that belongs to them Justice Department. Discuss dystopian! George Orwell could have been awed.

So with regards to assassinations, i was already on dark terrain before Jesse Trump thought to ask running for president. But provide the man his due. Little observed by anybody, he might be developing the opportunity of a brand new type of presidential murder not in distant lands but the following in your own home. Begin with his outstanding tweeting skills and also the staggering 17.2 million supporters of whatever he tweets, including numerous people of whats nicely known as the alt-right. And trust me, thats one hell of the audience to awaken, something The Jesse has proven he can perform with alacrity.

In this way, you can already consider him as a type of Twitter hit man. Certainly, his capacity to lash in 140 figures isn’t any small factor. Lately, for example, he all of a sudden tweeted a critique of arms-maker Lockheed-Martin for creating probably the most costly weapons system ever, the F-35 fighter jet. (The F-35 program and price has run out of control. Vast amounts of dollars will be saved on military [along with other] purchases after The month of january 20th.) The companys stock value quickly required a $4 billion hit which, I have to admit, I discovered amusing, not dystopian.

Also, he appears to possess been inflammed with a Chicago Tribune column that centered on Boeing Chief executive officer Dennis Muilenburgs criticisms of his comments on worldwide trade and China, where that company does significant business. Muilenburg recommended, mildly enough, he back away in the 2016 anti-trade rhetoric and perceived threats to punish other nations with greater tariffs or charges. In reaction, The Jesse quickly took out after the organization, with the cancellation of the Boeing agreement for a brand new high-tech form of Air Pressure One, the presidents plane. (Boeing is creating a completely new 747 Air Pressure One for future presidents, but pricing is unmanageable, greater than $4 billion. Cancel order!) That companys stock similarly required a success.

But giant military-industrial corporations can, obviously, defend themselves. So no pity there. With regards to regular citizens, however, its another matter. Take Chuck Johnson, president of the Indiana U . s . Steelworkers local. He disputed Trump on the number of jobs obama-elect had lately saved at Carrier Corporation. Considerably less, he was adamant (quite precisely), than Trump claimed. That clearly bruised obama-elects giant but remarkably fragile ego. Before he understood what hit him, Johnson found themself the item of the Trumpian twitter barrage. (Chuck Johnson, who’s President of U . s . Steelworkers 1999, has been doing a dreadful job representing workers. No question companies flee country!) The following factor he understood, abusive and threatening calls were flowing in such things as were coming for you personally or, as Johnson described it, Nothing that states theyre gonna kill me, but, you realize, you best keep an eye on your children. We all know what vehicle you drive. Things along individuals lines.

Last year, an 18-year-old university student were built with a similar experience after you have up in a campaign event and telling Trump he wasn’t any friend to women. The candidate quickly continued the Twitter attack, labelling her arrogant, and subsequently factor she understood, because the Washington Publish described it, her phone started ringing with callers departing threatening messages which were frequently sexual anyway. Her Facebook and email inboxes full of similar messages. As her addresses circulated on social networking and her photo exhibited in the news, she fled the place to find hide.

About this basis, it is not hard to create a conjecture. Sooner or later in Trumps presidency, he’ll strike out by tweet in a private citizen (Sad!) who got under his skin. In reaction, some unhinged person in what could be regarded as his future alt-drone pressure will get a gun (which so much more is going to be a lot closer at hands within the NRA-ascendant chronilogical age of Trump). Then, within the fashion from the fellow who made the decision to self-investigate the pizza shop in Washington that thanks, fake news was said to be the middle of a Hillary Clinton child-sex-slave ring, he’ll go self-investigate personally and armed. In Pizzagate, the man, now under arrest, fired his assault rifle harmlessly for the reason that restaurant, whose owner had already received more than his share of abusive phone messages and dying threats. It’s very easy enough to assume, however, quite another consequence of this kind of event. For the reason that situation, Jesse Trump may have given murder by drone a brand new meaning. And really should which happen, what would be the effects from the first presidential Twitter hit job within our history?

Remember, obviously, that, because of George W. Plant and Obama, Trump can also get all individuals CIA drones for he desires to knock-off whoever he chooses in distant lands. But because a possible Twitter assassin, rousing his alt-drones towards the attack, he’d achieve quite a different type of American first.

A Note for The World

And thats simply to edge my way to return world of Jesse Trump, that is, obviously, going to become all of our universes. I believe that his will grow to be the screw-you presidency ever. And trust me, which will end up being dystopian beyond compare or will i mean beyond despair?

Go ahead and take most dystopian issue of: global warming. In recent days, Trump has mumbled sweet nothings towards the put together New You are able to Occasions staff, swearing that hes keeping an open mind with regards to the hyperlink between humanity along with a warming planet. Hes also sweet-talked Al Gore right in the middle of Trump Tower. (I’d a extended and incredibly productive session using the president-elect, stated Gore afterward. It had been a sincere look for regions of mutual understanding… I discovered it an very interesting conversation, and also to be ongoing.) Other things Jesse Trump might be, he’s, first of all, a salesman, meaning he understands how to make a sale and charm nearly anybody, if needed, and reality be damned.

If, however, you need to gauge his actual feelings about them, individuals outer borough sentiments of his youthful years as he obviously increased up feeling one-lower to New Yorks elite, then don’t pay focus on what hes saying and check out what hes doing. On global warming, its screw-you devastating completely and visual payback towards the many vegetables, liberals, and individuals simply concerned about the fate of the world for his or her grandchildren who didnt election for or support him.

The Protector lately did a rundown on his selections for both his transition team and key posts in the administration getting anything related to energy or even the warming from the planet. It found climate deniers and thus-known as skeptics everywhere. Actually, a minimum of nine senior people of his transition team, reported Oliver Milman of this paper, deny fundamental scientific knowning that the earth is warming because of the burning of carbon along with other human activity.

Combine this using the president-elects urge to produce American non-renewable fuels in ways nobody formerly has and you’ve got a note that couldnt be clearer or even more devastating for future years of the livable planet. Consider it as being so dystopian, so potentially publish-apocalyptic, it makes 1984 seem like a nursery tale.

The content couldnt be clearer. If I needed to place it in only five words, they’d be:

Trump to Earth: Drop Dead.

And indeed, happy holidays!

Tom Engelhardt is really a co-founding father of the American Empire Project and also the author of The U . s . States of Fear in addition to a good reputation for the Cold War, The End of Victory Culture. He’s a fellow from the Nation Institute and runs TomDispatch.com. His latest book is Shadow Government: Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a Single-Superpower World.

Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and come along on Facebook. Browse the newest Dispatch Book, John Feffers dystopian novel Splinterlands, in addition to Nick TursesNext Time Theyll Come to Count the Dead, and Tom Engelhardts latest book, Shadow Government: Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a Single-Superpower World.

Find out more: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/dystopian-donald_us_585bd9b0e4b0eb5864854137

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