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#oliver event route
ratgingi · 1 year
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> I… don't plan to abandon Dialtown either, actually. Why not start over? … Why not take your eggs elsewhere and start a new life? > I've got friends in Dialtown. I can't just let them go.
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Brian Merchant’s “Blood In the Machine”
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Tomorrow (September 27), I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine. On October 2, I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab.
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In Blood In the Machine, Brian Merchant delivers the definitive history of the Luddites, and the clearest analysis of the automator's playbook, where "entrepreneurs'" lawless extraction from workers is called "innovation" and "inevitable":
https://www.littlebrown.com/titles/brian-merchant/blood-in-the-machine/9780316487740/
History is written by the winners, and so you probably think of the Luddites as brainless, terrified, thick-fingered vandals who smashed machines and burned factories because they didn't understand them. Today, "Luddite" is a slur that means "technophobe" – but that's neither fair, nor accurate.
Luddism has been steadily creeping into pro-labor technological criticism, as workers and technology critics reclaim the term and its history, which is a rich and powerful tale of greed versus solidarity, slavery versus freedom.
The true tale of the Luddites starts with workers demanding that the laws be upheld. When factory owners began to buy automation systems for textile production, they did so in violation of laws that required collaboration with existing craft guilds – laws designed to ensure that automation was phased in gradually, with accommodations for displaced workers. These laws also protected the public, with the guilds evaluating the quality of cloth produced on the machine, acting as a proxy for buyers who might otherwise be tricked into buying inferior goods.
Factory owners flouted these laws. Though the machines made cloth that was less durable and of inferior weave, they sold it to consumers as though it were as good as the guild-made textiles. Factory owners made quiet deals with orphanages to send them very young children who were enslaved to work in their factories, where they were routinely maimed and killed by the new machines. Children who balked at the long hours or attempted escape were viciously beaten (the memoir of one former child slave became a bestseller and inspired Oliver Twist).
The craft guilds begged Parliament to act. They sent delegations, wrote petitions, even got Members of Parliament to draft legislation ordering enforcement of existing laws. Instead, Parliament passed laws criminalizing labor organizing.
The stakes were high. Economic malaise and war had driven up the price of life's essentials. Workers displaced by illegal machines faced starvation – as did their children. Communities were shattered. Workers who had apprenticed for years found themselves graduating into a market that had no jobs for them.
This is the context in which the Luddite uprisings began. Secret cells of workers, working with discipline and tight organization, warned factory owners to uphold the law. They sent letters and posted handbills in which they styled themselves as the army of "King Ludd" or "General Ludd" – Ned Ludd being a mythical figure who had fought back against an abusive boss.
When factory owners ignored these warnings, the Luddites smashed their machines, breaking into factories or intercepting machines en route from the blacksmith shops where they'd been created. They won key victories, with many factory owners backing off from automation plans, but the owners were deep-pocketed and determined.
The ruling Tories had no sympathy for the workers and no interest in upholding the law or punishing the factory owners for violating it. Instead, they dispatched troops to the factory towns, escalating the use of force until England's industrial centers were occupied by literal armies of soldiers. Soldiers who balked at turning their guns on Luddites were publicly flogged to death.
I got very interested in the Luddites in late 2021, when it became clear that everything I thought I knew about the Luddites was wrong. The Luddites weren't anti-technology – rather, they were doing the same thing a science fiction writer does: asking not just what a new technology does, but also who it does it for and who it does it to:
https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/
Unsurprisingly, ever since I started publishing on this subject, I've run into people who have no sympathy for the Luddite cause and who slide into my replies to replicate the 19th Century automation debate. One such person accused the Luddites of using "state violence" to suppress progress.
You couldn't ask for a more perfect example of how the history of the Luddites has been forgotten and replaced with a deliberately misleading account. The "state violence" of the Luddite uprising was entirely on one side. Parliament, under the lackadaisical leadership of "Mad King George," imposed the death penalty on the Luddites. It wasn't just machine-breaking that became a capital crime – "oath taking" (swearing loyalty to the Luddites) also carried the death penalties.
As the Luddites fought on against increasingly well-armed factory owners (one owner bought a cannon to use on workers who threatened his machines), they were subjected to spectacular acts of true state violence. Occupying soldiers rounded up Luddites and suspected Luddites and staged public mass executions, hanging them by the dozen, creating scores widows and fatherless children.
The sf writer Steven Brust says that the test to tell whether someone is on the right or the left is simple: ask whether property rights are more important than human rights. If the person says "property rights are human rights," they are on the right.
The state response to the Luddites crisply illustrates this distinction. The Luddites wanted an orderly and lawful transition to automation, one that brought workers along and created shared prosperity and quality goods. The craft guilds took pride in their products, and saw themselves as guardians of their industry. They were accustomed to enjoying a high degree of bargaining power and autonomy, working from small craft workshops in their homes, which allowed them to set their own work pace, eat with their families, and enjoy modest amounts of leisure.
The factory owners' cause wasn't just increased production – it was increased power. They wanted a workforce that would dance to their tune, work longer hours for less pay. They wanted unilateral control over which products they made and what corners they cut in making those products. They wanted to enrich themselves, even if that meant that thousands starved and their factory floors ran red with the blood of dismembered children.
The Luddites destroyed machines. The factory owners killed Luddites, shooting them at the factory gates, or rounding them up for mass executions. Parliament deputized owners to act as extensions of law enforcement, allowing them to drag suspected Luddites to their own private cells for questioning.
The Luddites viewed property rights as just one instrument for achieving human rights – freedom from hunger and cold – and when property rights conflicted with human rights, they didn't hesitate to smash the machines. For them, human rights trumped property rights.
Their bosses – and their bosses' modern defenders – saw the demands to uphold the laws on automation as demands to bring "state violence" to bear on the wholly private matter of how a rich man should organize his business. On the other hand, literal killing – both on the factory floor and at the gallows – was not "state violence" but rather, a defense of the most important of all the human rights: the rights of property owners.
19th century textile factories were the original Big Tech, and the rhetoric of the factory owners echoes down the ages. When tech barons like Peter Thiel say that "freedom is incompatible with democracy," he means that letting people who work for a living vote will eventually lead to limitations on people who own things for a living, like him.
Then, as now, resistance to Big Tech enjoyed widespread support. The Luddites couldn't have organized in their thousands if their neighbors didn't have their backs. Shelley and Byron wrote widely reproduced paeans to worker uprisings (Byron also defended the Luddites in the House of Lords). The Brontes wrote Luddite novels. Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was a Luddite novel, in which the monster was a sensitive, intelligent creature who merely demanded a say in the technology that created him.
The erasure of the true history of the Luddites was a deliberate act. Despite the popular and elite support the Luddites enjoyed, the owners and their allies in Parliament were able to crush the uprising, using mass murder and imprisonment to force workers to accept immiseration.
The entire supply chain of the textile revolution was soaked in blood. Merchant devotes multiple chapters to the lives of African slaves in America who produced the cotton that the machines in England wove into cloth. Then – as now – automation served to obscure the violence latent in production of finished goods.
But, as Merchant writes, the Luddites didn't lose outright. Historians who study the uprisings record that the places where the Luddites fought most fiercely were the places where automation came most slowly and workers enjoyed the longest shared prosperity.
The motto of Magpie Killjoy's seminal Steampunk Magazine was: "Love the machine, hate the factory." The workers of the Luddite uprising were skilled technologists themselves.
They performed highly technical tasks to produce extremely high-quality goods. They served in craft workshops and controlled their own time.
The factory increased production, but at the cost of autonomy. Factories and their progeny, like assembly lines, made it possible to make more goods (even goods that eventually rose the quality of the craft goods they replaced), but at the cost of human autonomy. Taylorism and other efficiency cults ended up scripting the motions of workers down to the fingertips, and workers were and are subject to increasing surveillance and discipline from their bosses if they deviate. Take too many pee breaks at the Amazon warehouse and you will be marked down for "time off-task."
Steampunk is a dream of craft production at factory scale: in steampunk fantasies, the worker is a solitary genius who can produce high-tech finished goods in their own laboratory. Steampunk has no "dark, satanic mills," no blood in the factory. It's no coincidence that steampunk gained popularity at the same time as the maker movement, in which individual workers use form digital communities. Makers networked together to provide advice and support in craft projects that turn out the kind of technologically sophisticated goods that we associate with vast, heavily-capitalized assembly lines.
But workers are losing autonomy, not gaining it. The steampunk dream is of a world where we get the benefits of factory production with the life of a craft producer. The gig economy has delivered its opposite: craft workers – Uber drivers, casualized doctors and dog-walkers – who are as surveilled and controlled as factory workers.
Gig workers are dispatched by apps, their faces closely studied by cameras for unauthorized eye-movements, their pay changed from moment to moment by an algorithm that docks them for any infraction. They are "reverse centaurs": workers fused to machines where the machine provides the intelligence and the human does its bidding:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/17/reverse-centaur/#reverse-centaur
Craft workers in home workshops are told that they're their own bosses, but in reality they are constantly monitored by bossware that watches out of their computers' cameras and listens through its mic. They have to pay for the privilege of working for their bosses, and pay to quit. If their children make so much as a peep, they can lose their jobs. They don't work from home – they live at work:
https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/22/paperback-writer/#toothless
Merchant is a master storyteller and a dedicated researcher. The story he weaves in Blood In the Machine is as gripping as any Propublica deep-dive into the miserable working conditions of today's gig economy. Drawing on primary sources and scholarship, Blood is a kind of Nomadland for Luddites.
Today, Merchant is the technology critic for the LA Times. The final chapters of Blood brings the Luddites into the present day, finding parallels in the labor organizing of the Amazon warehouse workers led by Chris Smalls. The liberal reformers who offered patronizing support to the Luddites – but didn't imagine that they could be masters of their own destiny – are echoed in the rhetoric of Andrew Yang.
And of course, the factory owners' rhetoric is easily transposed to the modern tech baron. Then, as now, we're told that all automation is "progress," that regulatory evasion (Uber's unlicensed taxis, Airbnb's unlicensed hotel rooms, Ring's unregulated surveillance, Tesla's unregulated autopilot) is "innovation." Most of all, we're told that every one of these innovations must exist, that there is no way to stop it, because technology is an autonomous force that is independent of human agency. "There is no alternative" – the rallying cry of Margaret Thatcher – has become our inevitablist catechism.
Squeezing the workers' wages conditions and weakening workers' bargaining power isn't "innovation." It's an old, old story, as old as the factory owners who replaced skilled workers with terrified orphans, sending out for more when a child fell into a machine. Then, as now, this was called "job creation."
Then, as now, there was no way to progress as a worker: no matter how skilled and diligent an Uber driver is, they can't buy their medallion and truly become their own boss, getting a say in their working conditions. They certainly can't hope to rise from a blue-collar job on the streets to a white-collar job in the Uber offices.
Then, as now, a worker was hired by the day, not by the year, and might find themselves with no work the next day, depending on the whim of a factory owner or an algorithm.
As Merchant writes: robots aren't coming for your job; bosses are. The dream of a "dark factory," a "fully automated" Tesla production line, is the dream of a boss who doesn't have to answer to workers, who can press a button and manifest their will, without negotiating with mere workers. The point isn't just to reduce the wage-bill for a finished good – it's to reduce the "friction" of having to care about others and take their needs into account.
Luddites are not – and have never been – anti-technology. Rather, they are pro-human, and see production as a means to an end: broadly shared prosperity. The automation project says it's about replacing humans with machines, but over and over again – in machine learning, in "contactless" delivery, in on-demand workforces – the goal is to turn humans into machines.
There is blood in the machine, Merchant tells us, whether its humans being torn apart by a machine, or humans being transformed into machines.
Brian and I are having a joint book-launch tomorrow night (Sept 27) at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine:
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-internet-con-by-cory-doctorow-blood-in-the-machine-by-brian-merchant-tickets-696349940417
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen
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dr-aculaaa · 2 months
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Lately Drac’s been thinking about….
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Being the last house on Baron’s letter carrier route. Sometimes he tries to get deliveries done a little earlier than noon so he has more time to linger near your picket fence.
Parking his bike near that big tree in your backyard, quickly fixing his wind-blown hair to make it neat and tucked back behind his ears as he approaches you crouched over your rose bushes.
The way your face lights up to see him, even if it’s just to see that small box tucked under his elbow of new watercolor paints you ordered or that letter addressed to you from a publishing company both of you crossed fingers for, hoping they’ll accept some of your poetry.
That sudden fade in your flickering eyes despite that smile you keep on your face in front of him. That small tiny bite on the inside of your lip that chokes down rejection- followed with a big exhale and a oh well demeanor he sees more than often.
There’s always next time!
A voice as sweet as the smell of those salmon-pink Boscobels between the two of you with a wonderful scent like myrrh, pears, elderberries and almonds- all from your care, you speak again,
“How were your deliveries this mornin’ Baron?”
He shrugs, a voice soft, always soft spoken, chest tightening from the way you twirl a pruned rose between fingers while not breaking eye contact as he licks lightly chapped lips,
“Nothin’ too ‘memorable… but… I did see on the marquee that they’re playing Wutherin’ Heights later this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah… N’I saws you readin’ that book once, so I just figured it’d be somethin’ you’d be interested in knowin’. ”
Clutching the soon to be discarded letter in your hold, the thought of him watching from afar as you sat in your garden with one of your favorite Brontë sisters brings a fluttering to your very center like wisp butterflies on meadow buttercup wildflowers.
“Which one are they playin’ ?”
“Huh?”
“Which version of the movie are they playin’ for the matinee? The one with Timothy Dalton or the one with Laurence Oliver?”
“Oh…” his lips stay in an opening, showing off the bottoms of his two big and cute front teeth. It closes as lips press tightly and he bashfully smiles with a shake of his head, “I’m not too sure… but I was thinkin’ about-”
He pauses, a small chuckle as it starts to heat up under his button up uniform shirt and postal service blue blazer at his neck.
There’s a gentle summer breeze that carries a small lock of his sun-bleached honeyed-caramel waves over his strong and pointed freckled nose that’s taking every bit of your strength to not reach over and tuck it back behind those big ears that were now as pink as your roses.
“I was thinkin’ about… askin’ if I could take you to see it. I ain’t never read the book like you, so, I don’t know what it’s really about.”
Baron watches as you tuck your nose into that large bloom, a hum of contemplation on the spontaneous event that interrupted your plans of doing nothing but staring at an empty canvas or an empty page waiting for your wordsmith attention.
“You wanna take me to the movies?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a sincerity full of hope after waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for weeks, “-very much so.”
You smile at this boy, nay, young man, from the way you catch those few curls of dark hair peeking from his undershirt collar, the lines near his eyes as he squints to see you in this high-noon light.
This is your Baron, the young man that inspired you to pour out those couplets of humid summertime yearning after these few minutes of interaction on the daily stained your every thought like golden tumeric until you laid yourself to rest in a big empty bed.
You bet your Baron runs real warm, seeing him wear those silly mid-thigh length shorts even in late fall on his deliveries. The sweat on his brow evident of pedaling around town with a purpose, his wide palms smelling of the rubber gripped on his handlebars.
“Sure, Honey,” you smile at the man who was melting on the inside like a RocketPop from the way that sweet name breezed into his brain on this warm afternoon. “Sounds like a treat.”
A treat, he smiles, hopping back onto his bike, half a dozen roses in his basket you told him to put in some fresh water with a little bit of 7-Up so the blossoms lasted longer for his mother when he headed home to shower and change.
Honey, Baron catches himself helplessly and stupidly grinning at the thought of being your Honey.
Sweetness is everything he gave to you, sweetness is all he thought you deserved.
To hold those thorn prickled fingers of yours, woven between his; to kiss the tips that bury themselves in the earth and pinch the ink that flows poetry in motion.
He daydreams of listening to you call him Honey once more, imagining his head on your lap with his back to gingham under the clouds, soaking up sun and the recited words from your sonnets. Haikus. Prose poems. Anything, as your hand runs through his hair,
‘Did you fall asleep, Honey?’
‘Mm- just restin’ my eyes, Darlin’ ”
Oh my darling, oh my darling, you pop another clementine in your Huckleberry’s mouth before ruby lips come down to paint the apples of his cheeks like the canvases in your sun room.
So he neatly combs his hair, washes behinds his ears, and uses that old spice cologne that will tickle your nose as you greet him in that babydoll dress, Miss Mary Mack, dressed in black with silver buttons all down your back.
A pachyderm on his chest, his hand itches to rest upon the fabric’s juxtapose along your spine and guide you to your seats.
In the dark, shoulder to shoulder, seated upon plush velvet and sticky floors he’s trying to ignore, as the fatal and selfish side of love is projected onto the white screen. Baron gulps down nothing, despite the large Icee between your seats with two straws.
It’s the way he can smell your perfume, the way your bare knee rests upon his over-worn denim. The way your hand reaches over to his lap for popcorn and you softly whisper into his ear as you tell him to keep in mind certain things for the plot.
Baron would have to watch the movie again, overcome by the way you tucked an arm under his bicep to wrap around his elbow and lay your head on his for the rest of the movie.
Luckily, for him, you owned it on VHS.
Lucky for you, Baron still had a VCR.
‘It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.’
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YES !! YES !!!!!! AHAHAAAA YESSSS !!!!
my personal headcannons for the loveliest of lovely little guys <3333
extra info + flags!!
randy: (pan and agender)
-fibromyalgia for sure, trauma does shit things
-probably needs a cane or something similar to aleviate pain (doesn't think he's ill enough to need one, absolutely is)
-if he gets high please treat him like a fish in an aquarium, probably would hate the lack of control
-flushes really easily, and constantly clammy
-if you put a blanket on his head he'll fall asleep
-narcolepsy
-loves the feeling of a nice, heafty, soft quilt and a hot cocoa on a cold afternoon...
oliver: (trans, gay and demiromantic!)
-has a stuffed animal collection 100%
-probably picks up a million different projects only to put them down, a new hyperfixation every week kinda guy
-him being a stoner is basically cannon but, in specifics he seems like a bong or joint guy to me, would let u smoke the first hit (bc he's nice)
-rollerskate date :]
-glasses to at least semi help his shit 'eye' (optical sensor) and lack of depth perception (they can only do so much though)
karen: (nonbinary, lesbian)
-doesn't particularly care about gender as a concept
-has a bunch of tassles and cords in her house she has braided
-can't keep a plant alive to save her life, has mourned at least 20 house plants, has a fake one (somehow dies too)
-mitski.
-the biggest sweet tooth out of the group
-will lock herself away for hours and hours, sometimes an entire day or two, just creating. only to come out of a hole haggard and exhuasted with her New Horse Drawing.
-hEDS, uses a walker to get around!
Norm: (questioning/bi ?)
-writer (how the hell else wouldn't he go absolutely bonkers all alone, other than having a goal and spite i guess)
-uses coffee to live, but definitely enjoys tea in his free time
-probably learned archery at some point
-whittles little sculptures to pass the time (made karen a little wooden horse sculpture once)
-randomly schedules cook outs/junctions when he's feeling lonely and isolated
-he would absolutely take the will graham route and end up with 20 fucking stray dogs out of a deep empathy and then wake up one day and realize the mess he got himself into.
-grilldad. (duh)
phonegingi: (genderfluid, polyamorous, pan)
-gender? yes.
-sexuality? yes.
-will consume your clothes if you are not careful with your gingi Care instructions. (taking little nibbles is okay as a treat)
-if weed is consumed it basically acts as a horrifically strong catnip, and it will get the zoomies and make it everyone's problem
-purrs
-pays really good attention to detail stuff, and its brain is basically a filing cabinet. but big events are basically a blur
-gets SUPER !! fluffy during the winter and there's an awful period where it's shedding and it's...super patchy and silly lookin
-me and the bitches i pulled by being HORRIFYING and lovely,,,,
bigfoot: (aroace. i don't take criticism.)
-banana,,,
-genuinely pretty attentive and smart
-becomes a painter because he is INSPIRED ! by his friend karen
-absolutely splendid lad
-i wanna live in a world where one of his passions is making and wearing silly hats, please, PLEASE
-karen showed him mitski,,,god help him he's sad now
-knitting,,,he knit giant banana,,,,
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besaya-glantaya · 5 months
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Thoughts on Alex being wrong and loving it
Red White and Royal Blue (2023 movie)
Remember the little quip Henry makes about admiring Alex's willingness to admit when he's wrong? It's such a great moment of foreshadowing, especially since Henry has no idea just how right he is.
Alex prizes himself on being someone who is skilled at reading people, at seeing the person beneath the surface, but he's never come across anyone quite like Henry before.
Alex must be used to people hiding who they truly are - he's been steeped in American politics for years - but he probably isn't expecting anyone from such a legacy of historic power and entitlement to be, at their core, an actual cinnamon roll.
Their initial meeting also comes at a time in Henry's life when any chink in his armour reveals only pain and anger, leading Alex to assume that what lies behind the carefully controlled façade isn't pleasant.
This assumption is only reinforced by further antagonistic interactions, fuelled by Henry's attempts to balance civility while protecting his heart as Alex consistently pulls Henry's metaphorical pigtails.
The fallout from cakegate forces them into extended periods of proximity and we see Alex start to glimpse pieces of the real Henry beneath his bland public persona. Each further piece that's revealed surprises and delights Alex and it's a joy to watch Taylor Zakhar Perez bring those moments to life.
Allow me to ramble about some of these:
1. Alex's pause of panic followed by surprised relief as Henry suavely responds to the interview question, "How did you end up on the floor of Buckingham Palace, covered in cake?" Alex's relief is two fold: he was floundering with no idea what to say (shouldn't have rebuffed Henry's request to prepare for this interview, Alex...) and Henry's answer is not at all what Alex was expecting. Henry could easily have attributed the event to clumsiness or tomfoolery on Alex's part - even just by subtle implication. That wouldn't have been out of line with some of Alex's answers (e.g., "Three words to describe Henry? Um... White, blond and British.") but Henry chooses a more protective route, deflecting attention from Alex, which comes as a pleasant surprise. [Of course he can't show this, so instead retaliates with something as annoying as possible. Cue side eye from Henry.]
2. Alex's big-eyed expression of sympathy as Henry tells him the Palace insisted on parading him around while he was grieving for his father. It's the key moment Alex realises he's built a lot of assumptions on a misunderstanding and has probably treated Henry rather unfairly.
3. Alex frowning at Henry talking and laughing with the little girl in the hospital bed. He's seeing Henry through a new lens and realises this picture doesn’t fit with a lot of his previous assumptions.
4. Alex shaking his head at Henry's joking attempt to decline an invite to his NYE party that most people would kill to get. "That's perfect, you kill me and then I won't have to go." It's the first time Henry uses his sharp wit to share a joke with Alex, rather than directing it at him in a fit of pique. It's an olive branch and I don't think Alex was expecting such easy forgiveness.
5. The sublime series of text based interactions where Alex is surprised and charmed by Henry flirting (under the guise of gentle ridicule).
6. The iconic "I can't believe how wrong I was about you," while he and Henry are as close as two people can get.
7. My all time favourite: Alex's reaction to Henry pointing out the yellow roses on his tie. Henry employs this in a sweet distraction during a moment of all encompassing anxiety for Alex. It's enough to bring Alex out of his fog, to realise how much strength he draws just from Henry being there to support him. The way Taylor says "Oh my god. I'm so grateful you are here," is perfection.
I'm a gooey mess thinking about all the future moments where Alex is surprised and overwhelmed by Henry's kindess.
[Sobs]
On a related note @mulderscully has a great post titled: Alex's headshake of Love™, which captures several of these moments, and more, in perfect gif form.
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kisinthehouse · 3 months
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Felix Catton x Reader 
Warning(s)- Drinking, Kissing, Dub-Con, Slight Exhibitionism (Felix and Reader don’t know about it). Let me know if I forgot something <3
When the Catton’s threw a party, they really threw one. You often wonder where Felix got his high-strung energy and need to be around chaos, however, all those thoughts and wonders left your mind as soon as you stepped into Oliver Quick’s birthday party, hosted at Saltburn over the summer. When Felix invited you to join him over the break at his family’s estate, you thought they would be snotty people with an old-money attitude. Your mind was quickly changed after you attended a few of their lavious, and booze-driven, events. You wore a sparky, baby pink dress that Elsbeth smiled at when she saw it. “It’s just beautiful! It’ll look so realistic when you add fairy wings”. Now with your hair, makeup, and outfit completely done, you were starting to see her vision, and so was Felix. 
You had both had a few drinks now, and he was dancing over to you, clearly quite tipsy, with a giant smile on his face. You smiled back at him as he wrapped his hands around your waist and started to lead you away from the party. You didn’t realize where he was even leading you, too lost in the feeling of his body so close to yours. You only came to your senses when suddenly the lights from the house got blurred, and you realized that he had led you into the maze. You both drunkenly giggle as he pushes you against the wall of the maze and grow more invested in each other. “You just look so pretty in this get-up darling. As pretty as the moon”. You smile up at him while blushing slightly as his hands move up your thighs to go under your dress. You moan softly and pull his body closer to yours. 
The moonlight illuminates the both of you, dressed up for the party of your life, but as you open your eyes and glance behind Felix, it also illuminates someone else. You jump back away from Felix and push him off of you as he gives you a confused look, thinking he did something wrong or pushed you too far. Your eyes quickly move to his and he looks back to where you were looking. Oliver was standing in the entrance to the area of the maze you guys were in, still in his party outfit, and looking as intoxicated as you and Felix were. Felix jumped back and put his hand on his heart “Jesus Oliver, you can’t just sneak up on people like that”. Oliver looked between the both of you and raised his eyebrows slowly before putting his hands up in surrender “I was just coming to look for you Felix”. You looked up at Felix and then back at Oliver as you opened your mouth “Fel I can go, i’ll meet you back at the house”. He looked down at you and smiled softly, but you could tell that he was anything but relaxed. He nods before kissing your temple softly “Alright, i’ll see you up there”. You walk past Oliver and give him a quick smile and a “happy birthday Ollie”, before walking out of the maze, careful to follow the exact route back to the entrance that you used to enter into it.
 You joined the party again, and grabbed a glass of champagne before talking to some of the Catton's friends. As one glass of champagne turned into 3, and 3 became 4, you lifted the glass up to your lips, wondering where the boys were. Before you could think any more about your thoughts, and before you could take a sip, you heard a blood curdling scream break through the chilly night air. The scream was so loud that you, and a couple other people, dropped your drink glasses onto the pavement below your feet. Elsbeth stood up from where she was sitting and talked to her friends and looked around at everyone in the party, her eyes wide before turning to look at her husband, who shared the same expression.
“Did that come from the maze?”
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HELLO AGAIN EVERYONE my tummy aches but im being brave about it and im going to fight the pain with the power of love and friendship (aka im going to thank you for the christmas tree messages)
okay let me be emotional for a moment...
because of the current circumstances at home, this Christmas was very different and much lonelier for me. i did my best not to get the blues and i think it was okay for the most part! now looking back at it, without a doubt, the highlight of my Christmas this year was reading the tree messages. it was very late in the night, i had just finished reading Napo's story event route and i saved the best part for desert, barely containing my excitement to finally read the messages. and i expected just a row of "merry christmas"-es 😭 you know, because, i did that? i kept mine all short and i was just shouting some wishes at you.... BUT NO, YOU OUTDID YOURSELVES IN TURN! WHAT WAS THAT! i was right there sobbing in my bed being all "?????" .... i seriously didn't expect 1) to have so many because i did the tree very last minute 2) to receive such sweet messages...
and then i realized, was my Christmas really all that lonely? because, just 3-4 years ago, i didn't know any of you here. before that i never was more than a lurker in online spaces so... i think that's when i had truly lonely christmases, not now. thank you for being here. i don't deserve you... no im sorry if you hate it when i say that, pretend that i didnt say it ( i lowkey think that) (im sorry im in my low self esteem era these past months)
OKAY SO
thank you person called Bread, thank you Lorei for being the first sob of my sob session, it's all YOUR fault that i got so emotional oh my god im totally dm-ing you after this, thank you irl bestie who not only left me a sweet personal message but also roleplayed my faves for me because i screamed (you heard it), thank you kat for your three messages that made me feel all kind of emotions (im touched that youre willing to write this even if i feel like im going to hate it), THANK YOU NINNI HUGS BACK!, thank you Ally i know it was you. using roy to threaten me with a good time.... smh... MERRY CRIMMY SCUM!!!!, YAY TO YOU TOO, SOLACE!! Thank you aqua, you're right, he's good to me 🥺 just as chev is to you, i believe! THANK YOU DREW im still thinking about it. Thank you Fang, I could say the same and you know it 🥺, THANK YOU DEVON!! Thank you so much Ana, I too hope the same, I'm glad I became your mutual! 🥹 Same goes to you too, Oliver! I'm just always so happy to see new faces around, truth is im a little bit shy with interactions at first because i feel annoying... so thank you for becoming my moot! 🙇🏻‍♀️💗 Thank you, sweet Julie 🥹 THANK YOY MYARA, I CRIED A LITTLE! right back at ya, i think that you're an irreplaceable part of our little space and im just so glad to be here and see everything you do and share with us! hope your 2024 is full of joy both on here and irl ❤ Thank you mimi, i feel the same and you better not forget that! Thank you Michelle, love you too!!! THANK YOU, NAMI! Thank you, Impromptu!!!!! Thank you Nori!!!!!!!!! And thank you sui you're so right as ever. nods.
i think thats all im so sorry if i forgot anyone ALSO im so sorry for doing this. i tried to keep my responses vague in case you wanted these to be extra private... i initially was going to dm all of you but. that was because i thought there were going to be like 10 of you!!! again im sorry. love you all so much im an emotional wreck
i hope you had a good time these past few days and i hope we can all look forward to a great 2024 together 🥺 i'd be nowhere without you
@lorei-writes @yanderepuck @claviscollections @yarnnerdally @scummy-writes @aquagirl1978 @ikemendrew @fang-and-feather @devonares @bicayaya @olivermorningstar @queengiuliettafirstlady @keithsandwich @mimi-but-main @xbalayage @namine-somebodies-nobody @the12thnightproject @mcwentfandomtraveling @leonscape
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90percentstudios · 4 months
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What is the Hello Puppy show in CKC actually like? Because it has the PA characters in it, but it can't be just a straight adaptation of the PA games because the two events we hear happened in the show are both death events in their respective games
My friend thinks it's an anthology series with each season being a new scenario with the same cast but I think it's just a cartoon where some amount of the cast dies almost every episode but come back the next episode with no injuries and no memory of it happening, what do you think?
man this is a fun question. here's what i'd do if i actually had to make a purrfect apawcalypse animated series that worked in as many "death" routes as possible: for the sake of a continuous plot, rather than die characters are just gravely injured before finding a witty way to escape. some game routes would have to be omitted because olive having several variations of stair-related oopsies wouldn't make for good tv, and some routes are just plain conflicting (like, ginger probably can't skin olive and sparky and expect them to pull up to the good ending without some serious grafting). season 1/pa1: olive and their friends would be quite bloodied, but would make it out of hachiko high school alive.
season 2/pa2: they get stitches and wind down at the grimalkin estate for olive's bday only to face patches yet again. by the end of it maybe ginger could use some minor healing magic to clot their accumulating wounds.
season 3/pa3: people get stabbed, people get pelted by spiky baseballs, patches makes it out with minor injuries, and bapawmet would definitely get summoned. maybe we could witness a vision of all the terrible things they could do, only for patches to do the right thing for once and have bapawmet heal everyone. it ends with olive still somehow finding the heart to forgive patches and the show is cancelled for teaching bad ethics to kids.
and since i have a mock-up on hand, pretend it looks like this:
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xtruss · 2 months
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‘You Become A Traitor And A Bad Jew’: “Illegal Regime of Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐖 Isra-Helli” Anti-War Activists Speak To RT About Their Country’s Actions
Despite the Extremely High Level of Support for the War in Isra-helli Society, Some Isra-hellis Advocate Peace and Condemn their Government
— January 30, 2024 | RT | Elizabeth Blade
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© RT/RT
For more than 115 days Israel has been fighting in Gaza, in a bid to free its 136 hostages and destroy Hamas, the Islamic militant organization responsible for the October 7 massacre that claimed the lives of more than 1,200 Israelis.
So far, over 26,000 Palestinians have died in the relentless Israeli shelling. Thousands more have been injured. Israel is facing strong international pressure to end the war, but officials in Jerusalem are refusing to budge, while a recent poll indicated that 87% of Israeli Jews support the operation and want it to continue.
Yet, there are also those who refuse to follow the majority view. RT spoke to two representatives of the so-called anti-war bloc, which is calling for an end to Israel’s occupation. Gaia Dan is a 23-year-old Jewish student originally from Haifa in northern Israel. Dr. Salim Abbas is an Arab Geologist. Both are concerned about the route Israel is taking, and have been resorting to demonstrations to change the reality.
‘There Is No Justification For The Murdering of Innocent Civilians’
RT: First of all, how did the events of October 7 impact you? What was your reaction?
Dan: I was at my place in Be’er Sheba, where I am renting an apartment for my studies. I had just come back from Canada and I was really sick. Suddenly the alarms went off and I was too sick and confused to understand what was going on. Only after two hours of alarms did I realize what was happening and went down to the neighborhood shelter. At the time they said there was an infiltration of terrorists... no one in my vicinity understood the magnitude of the incident. The next day I returned to Haifa and started to slowly realize what had actually occurred. At that moment what I felt was mainly great pain. We knew it would happen someday, because there is a limit to how much you can belittle and how arrogant you can be when it comes to Gaza, but the pain was enormous, the pain for the innocents who died and those who would die later.
Abbas: The events of October 7 surprised us all, and especially me, I did not believe that Palestinian freedom fighters could commit such atrocities and descend to such a disgusting and painful level as the behavior of the occupation army and the fascist settlers. I believed in a just struggle of an entire people living under continuous humiliation, oppression and murder but there is no justification for the murdering of innocent civilians.
On October 7, I was on my way to a Palestinian village in the occupied territories (near Qalqilya), where we were supposed to pick olives with Jewish friends. But the news did not stop pouring in. Even now, with after more than 105 days, the magnitude of the tragedy and the failure – due to which I lost good friends, and some are still kidnapped – have not been determined yet.
‘This Is Pure Revenge’
RT: What promoted you to take this path of demonstrating against the war?
Dan: When October 7 happened, I was in no hurry to leave the house with chants of protest. I believed there was still a chance for negotiations. But as time passed, and the bodies in Gaza piled up, I realized that it is not in our culture to negotiate; we only understand the militant language. They slaughtered us so we will slaughter them back. This is pure revenge.
But I’m not ready for them to act on my behalf. I am not ready for them to ignore the big picture of why the events of October 7 took place. I’m not ready for people to be massacred, or settlements inside our outside the Green Line to be erected. Not ready for them to lie that what they are doing is for our security.
Plus, I have an aversion to people who sit on the sidelines and are ready to watch the world burn. I don’t have this privilege.
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Gaia Dan, Anti-war Activist Participating in a Demonstration Demanding the End of the Operation in Gaza. Haifa, January 20, 2024
Abbas: I am a social activist and coordinator of a group of citizens against crime, which brought me to be at the heart of the current storm... I am not used to sitting on the fence as a citizen. What has been happening in recent years, the madness and the destruction caused by the fascist right-wing government hurts me. So as a citizen who has a dream and a vision for a reformed and equal democratic state for all its citizens, I wanted to act. This impulse comes from my parents, who were born in an uprooted village called Maalul (5km west of Nazareth), and I decided to go in the footsteps of my father, pursuing the just struggle that he fought for all his life. I have hope and optimism that it is possible to bring change for the better, that it is possible to build a reformed state that strives to live next to an independent Palestinian state, in peace.
‘We Can Only Dream of Raising The Flag of Palestine 🇵🇸’
RT: How freely can you actually protest? We are not seeing these protests that often...
Dan: Even before October 7 it was difficult to demonstrate. It was tough to raise Palestinian flags. We made countless attempts to do so during protests, but it all boiled down to the mood of the police officers. Sometimes our flags were taken away, sometimes we were arrested. Sometimes they were less violent and sometimes more. But we did manage to negotiate and even reach some understandings with the police – for example small Palestinian flags were indeed allowed.
Then came October 7, and now we can only dream of raising the flag of Palestine. Any attempt to demonstrate against the war is brutally dismantled, whether it is in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem or Haifa. Gagging is everywhere. They tell you that the war is justified, that Israel didn’t have a choice. When you try to protest against it, you become a traitor, a bad Jew or an anti-Semite. Your opinions become irrelevant.
On Saturday we staged a demonstration after going through the High Court of Justice. There, too, the police were present. They checked each of our banners. Such words as “Massacre” or “Palestine” serve as a trigger for them, and prompt them to act violently. So we constantly need to think in what language and what exactly we will write on our banners so that they don’t take them away from us.
Police violence is a big problem for us, simply because people don’t want to leave the house, fearing they will be arrested or beaten up. Another issue is that the police remember you so if you happen to be a prominent activist in Haifa, you end up living with a constant feeling of political persecution. It frightens people, so this intimidation works.
Abbas: It has always been problematic to demonstrate against the occupation and its injustices, but in recent months the situation has worsened in the face of the political persecution of Arab and Jewish activists and the prohibition of demonstrations and protests against the massacre and the extermination of the people of Gaza.
We are facing more and more restrictions through the threats of the police and the Shin Ben [Israel’s internal security agency - ed.] – something that I have experienced myself. I can say that for the first time I felt fear and despair, something that brought me back to the period of martial law that was imposed on the Arab community within the country [from 1949 till 1966 - ed.], a period which included suppression, arrests and political persecution. Yet, these things only prompt us to go on and swim against the current. They make us strengthen our humane position against a mentality that sanctifies the horrific circle of blood.
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Salim Abbas: A Palestinian Anti-war Activist.
“Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐖 Terrorist Isra-hell” Wants Its Citizens To Be Violent
RT: Israel prides itself on its flourishing mass media that provides a platform for all opinions. Would you agree with this? And what do you think of Israel’s education system and the set of values it gives?
Dan: Only two local media outlets gave me the platform to express myself – Sikha Mekomit and Haaretz. Others don’t invite me. The media is mobilized for the war effort. We are being hidden because they don’t want to show that there are other options. They don’t want to show that people like me exist.
They are talking about the de-Nazification of Gaza but what about de-Nazification here? Listen to how people here are talking, they are calling for mass extermination, and this is exactly what they see in the news.
As for our education system. Israeli society is militant because we are in the mindset that everyone wants to kill us. People grow up on this ideology, in schools they pump you the narrative that everyone is against you so it gives you an existential dread.
We are a society where the discourse is violent. Your success in life is measured by what you did during your military service, and how combative you were. Israel wants its citizens to be violent. Of course, I can blame the education system and the media for the current mess, but the truth is that they are only tools in the hands of the government.
Abbas: State media tries to ignore the sane voice that fights for peace, equality and social justice for all citizens.
As for education, the problem is that the majority of Israeli society is militant. It comes from an education that is built on a militaristic mentality that raises generations of fighting machines and not normal human beings. This mentality is based on fear and terror while cynically exploiting the issue of the Holocaust and the concentration camps. It can thereby turn the young people into murder and hatred machines for anyone who opposes their spirit.
RT: Do you think the events of October 7 changed things for the worse?
Dan: I think that every incident of terror or violent resistance in which innocent people are involved changes Israeli society for the worse. What happened on October 7 was not an exception. Just like violent acts before, it brought out the demons in 90 percent of Israelis including in those who were initially supportive of peaceful solutions to the conflict, and following the events ditched that path.
Abbas: Such events always succeed in changing Israeli society for the worse because most of the citizens are led as a herd and the establishment media concentrates all its efforts in transmitting disinformation in favor of the government which has failed in the simplest task: to secure its own citizens. Let’s not forget that similar events on a smaller scale – such as Hamas’ suicide attacks from 1996 onwards – led to the radicalization of Israeli public opinion and resulted in the right-wing government and Bibi’s Likud coming to power [reference to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu - ed.].
Unfortunately, the victims of Hamas have become the fig leaf of the Israeli occupation. They are now used by the Israeli government to incite the world public opinion and divert it from the daily injustices of the occupation.
‘Salvation Will Not Come From The Zionist Terrorist 🐖 🐖 🐖 Cunts Jews’
RT: Do you think a change is possible? What needs to happen for it to occur?
Dan: I do believe in change but for it to take place, it requires a reset of Israeli society as we know it. It requires us ditching the notion of a Jewish and democratic state because if you define yourself as Jewish, you cannot be democratic towards non-Jews; and it requires a lot of international pressure that will force Israel to reach a compromise.
For me, one thing is certain: salvation will not come from the Jews, the ones who will eventually end the occupation and bring about a revolution will be the Palestinian people themselves. What I can do as a Jew is to spur it on, speed it up and push it in every possible way as I am doing now.
Abbas: I do believe that the situation will change for the better despite the difficulty and madness that rages around us.
The road is still long but what prompts me and my partners in this struggle is the belief that we are fighting for future generations, for the sake of young men and women who deserve a bright and just future.
It seems that many things need to be done for us to reach that goal. First of all, is the establishment of a left wing, Arab-Jewish democratic bloc that will unite all human rights organizations, movements and parties. Then, later on, it will expand and grow stronger until it becomes a true partner in a government coalition. Such a development can also involve a serious ambition from political parties to design a constitution for the country through a referendum that can guarantee full rights and equality for all citizens.
— By Elizabeth Blade, RT Middle East Correspondent
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lorei-writes · 2 days
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Tell Me Why You Love Me Story Event; Nokto's Route; Chapter 2
All I could think about while reading this was @olivermorningstar 's Oliver being real in canon universe and having biographies written about him.
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awesomefringey · 1 month
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Sabine, I think Crown Bee Olive is back pretending to be an industry insider on the twitter account Nostradamus Insider. Same stilted English and scattergun predictions like 'Zayn Spring'.
https://twitter.com/insider_nostra1/status/1760656772002357304?t=6FtCKGX5nWzY62BMjLXtgw&s=19
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These accounts bore me the hell out, but I know plenty of people give them credit because they were right about something in the past.
I think they’re just a troll but instead of calling themselves prediction account, they call themselves “Nostradamus” who - come to think of it - was never an insider but envisioned events in the future without actual knowledge and being wrong about them most of the time.
I bet you could easily be able to predict something about Louis and Harry, and be right. The Nostradamus account claiming that Harry will go the Bowie/Prince route for HS4 isn’t new. That’s been put onto Harry since HS1. But who cares, people will forget they were wrong with literally everything else when you got one thing right.
And people love to believe they’re ahead of everyone else by knowing stuff that’s not supposed to be out there (see Deuxmoi, CDAN, CBO). Of course these accounts will be successful.
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danceofdragonsrphq · 3 months
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THE CORONATION OF KING JAEHAERYS II TARGARYEN
Hello writers! We are traveling again, thank you for your patience as we all worked through this busy holiday season. Let us start the year on the right foot, for the month (Jan. 01 - Jan31st) our muses will find themselves in the Kingdom of Jaehaerys Targaryen as the King holds his coronation in the traditions of Old Valyria with a series of games and feasting. Old enemies, friends, and lovers are reunited once more, what is in store for the citizens of Westeros.
Beneath the cut you will find a breakdown of housing for the visiting realms of Westeros. Here you will find a list of activities taking place during the event so our muses will have many options available during this event.
setting change: locations in new valyria note: there are some liberties taken with towers 
The Kingdoms of the Reach and the Westerlands: Due to the relationship between Kings Jaehaerys Targaryen and Tyland Lannister the dragon King has allowed them residence within the Red Keep. This invitation has been extended to the Reach on the strength of Jaehaerys’ “familial” connection with the MIstress of Ships Lucrezia Redwyne and his bastard sister Laena Oldflowers position as the Mistress of the King. The Kings and Queens of the Reach and Westerlands respectively will have quarters within Maegor’s Holdfast allowing their Kingsguards to take up residence as well giving them the extra feeling of security from their own people. The courts of these Kingdoms will stay in the Maidenvault, a long slate-roofed behind the royal sept, the Maidenvault includes a library, gardens, and its own Sept.  Note: The people of the Crown and Stormlands will be staying within the Red Keep as well. The Red Keep is overflowing with guests, including those from Lys, Tyrosh, and Volantis.
The Kingdom of the Riverlands: Because of the King’s desire to forge some kind of connection with the Riverlands, namely within their River Market, they have been given residence within The Riverwalk, a tower close to the river walk and godswood. It’s within walking distance of the main Holdfast though a touch further away than the Maidenvault. The belief is the Riverlanders will enjoy being close to water. 
The Kingdoms of the North and the Vale: These Kingdoms have been given residence in Librarius Tower, a building of black marble typically houses the maesters and few remaining alchemists has been given to these allied kingdoms with hopes of giving them peace of mind with being in quarters among people they seemingly trust. This tower has many chambers for meetings, most of the librarius is open to exploring save for any locked quarters which will be plainly noted. The tower is between the White Sword Tower of the Kingsguard and the Blackwater Bay. This was done with hopes of extending an olive branch between the realms and providing assurances that just because they have had or have disagreements Jaehaerys aims for a new day. 
The Kingdom of Dorne: Due to the tensions between realms, namely their courts of the marches, the Kingdom of Dorne has been given residence in Hayford. The castle being a half day’s ride from Red Keep allows the Dornish court to move freely through the city should they choose that route or travel down Hayford’s Hill. Monterys Belaerys has happily agreed to allow the Dornish to stay within his hall, making all he has available just as available to them. 
Locations and events around King’s Landing, The Red Keep, and Hayford: 
The Red Keep: 
The Great Hall: The second largest chamber in Westeros after Harrenhal, the Great Hall has been able to house thousands, an example being the Maiden’s Day Ball where more than a thousand maidens, their family members, and servants overcrowded the hall. The Great Hall will be used to hold small council meetings when/if the many councils or multiple councils decide to sit together. 
The Queen's Ballroom: Can seat a hundred, is much smaller than the Great Hall and the Small Hall. Its walls are paneled in richly carved wood, and every wall sconce has beaten silver mirrors which reflect torchlight. Musicians can perform in the gallery above the floor, which is covered with sweet-smelling rushes. Arched windows on the south wall can be covered with thick velvet draperies. The ballroom has long trestle tables and a dais. 
The Godswood of the Red Keep: An Acre of elm, alder, and black cottonwood trees overlooking the Blackwater ruse. There is a heart tree stump that was clearly hacked to bits, the ground around the tree's great stone roots looks to be saturated with blood. 
Winding Gardens: The great garden of the Red Keep is an maze like winding path of stone benches, fountains, and fruit trees. 
Secret Passages: Barring the network of passages most people wouldn’t be able to get to there is still the great chamber that holds the skull of Balerion the Black Dread, the chamber of Septa, a chamber of Septons, and more. People have been known to hold private meetings here. 
King’s Landing: 
The Great Sept of Baelor: Where the most devout convene and will be the quarters of the High Septon whenever he visits New Valyria. The location is on Visenya’s HIll. 
The Dragonpit: A huge domed building once held the great dragons of house Targaryen though it now holds the small creatures being birthed. 
Flea Bottom: The slums 
Eel Alley: On Visenya’s Hill and the home of many Inns and Taverns. 
The Street of Steel: Where most smiths have their forges. It begins on the west of Fishmonger's Square inside the River Gate and climbs up Visenya's Hill. The higher up one goes, the more expensive the shops.
The Street of Silk: A street to the northwest of the Dragonpit lined with brothels of varying expense
The Street of the Sisters: Connects the Great Sept of Baelor to the Dragonpit. One can find the Guildhall of the Alchemists upon it. It runs straight as an arrow between the hills of Rhaenys and Visenya, from which it gets its name. Many horse races take place along this street. 
Hayford: The Villa of Emperor Tiberius is the inspo for Hayford
Ludus: Houses the gladiators in a warren of twists and turns beneath the training grounds. At top one will see the men training and fighting against one another before taking on their actual contests. 
The Grotto: The caves are embellished with colored opus, mosaic flooring, a triclinium (a dining space with seats) centered on an island in the cave’s mouth. 
The Great Hall: Often a place for elaborate feasts, parties, and gatherings there is always something happening in Hayford and for the Dornish guests, Lord Belaerys has made it clear that all they need to do is ring a bell and watch the hall come alive. 
The Gladiator Pits: A small area where one can watch gladiator contests, feats of strength, and/or recreations of historical events obviously told with the appropriate slants for the viewing audience. 
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shatcey · 10 days
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Ikemen Revolution
I decided to say goodbye to this game and say a few farewell words. I wish I had more kind words… I still can't believe how long I've been torturing myself…
I started playing this game RIGHT after the developers stopped supporting it. Lucky me! I didn't participate in any event, I didn't buy anything with real money, and I hardly heard voices. So… my impression is based solely on the main stories and some routes through the looking glass (Sirius and Lancelot).
There will be some spoilers in it… just to explain my point, but no more than necessary.
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Lancelot, Sirius and Jonah. These guys are smart, dependable, with strong morals and a value system… And they ended up with a girl whose only value is to be absolutely and unreasonably optimistic. And she's pretty. That's all. I feel like they sold themselves too cheaply. Well, in Jonah's route, she's not that bad, but still…
Kyle you're perfect, just don't drink so much. Dalim you're perfect, just stop sacrificing yourself. No one has ever asked you to do it. Edgar, you're perfect, but stop listening to your uncle. You're not a kid anymore, you don't have to do this.
I just realized… These are all victims of the magic tower… Even Harr in a way. Zero and Levie's lives were almost ruined because of the tower. And without Harr, Loki's life would have been as well. I feel very sorry for them. Especially about Levie. Sweet kid.
I guess I'm a bit of a masochist. Dean is a typical teacher, and I would love to see his route. What could it be… She is not particually bright and naive, she definitely needs a teacher! Maybe at the end of his route, she would finally start behaving like an adult… Who knows. And Amon… He's terrible. He's not just want to cut Alice into pieces to figure out how her abilities work, but he's always angry, he's like a burning volcano. But who knows what's in his heart? He's just an abandoned, unloved child, and no one understands him. Something like that… But we never know for sure…
They're just kids. I know Luka is not a child, but he behaves like one. So he's a kid. And I know that Oliver is definitely not a kid. But he's a child for a half of the time. I can't bring myself to date kids. That's creepy.
The most difficult one… I really wanted to like Seth. He has long hair and it's very attractive. But I am not into girlish-boy friend/more than friend relationships. And his sudden switch from sweet and melodious behavior to something very adult and sultry was not convincing. I was expecting something like that because it wasn't my first route, but it still doesn't feel quite right. I don't know how to put it… he wasn't shown from the right angle to makes him shine. Shame. Fenrir… (exhales)… I deleted this game once because of him. It was so boring… I didn't find anything interesting in him and I didn't feel at least a little spark between the characters. A very strange couple. Blanc… He appears at the beginning of each route to say a couple of lines, and at the end of each route to say a couple more lines. And that's probably all. Yes, he flirts, knows a lot of things and is very old (he remembers how Levie was imprisoned in the looking glass)… There is potential in this, but… We'll never know. And Moss. I've seen him a couple of times at most. In Zero's route and maybe somewhere else, but I don't remember… So I have no idea what this character is like.
But the biggest problem of this game is not the characters. Yes, I don't like Alice, outside Jonah and Dalim's routes. But if the concept of the game was a little different, I would turn a blind eye to it.
From the very beginning, there is a feeling that this game is a bit childish. It is based on the plot of a fairy tale, most of the characters are overly positive and hyperactive. Story unfolds in the midst of a war, but they don't show any anxiety, fear, or any negative emotions… This is the behavior of children. But… some romantic scenes are shown too much… in an adult way. So at first I couldn't even figure out what age this game is aim for. Teenagers, probably…
But despite how much I dislike about this game, I don't consider it a complete failure. The developers managed to create very interesting and memorable characters. And used them as prototypes for other games. It was a good foundation. And I think they had outgrown the game. The latter routes seem to be written much better than the others, and bring up more complex and more questionable topics. So I think that was one of the reasons they stopped this project.
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🔝 Start page 🔝
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dark-frosted-heart · 11 months
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Proposal Event - Keith Howell (main route)
One morning, Emma's in her room poring over a book when Keith throws her door open, announcing that he saw some flowers start to bloom. The two rush to the conservatory to view them. Keith starts to teach her about the flower and herbs that change with temperature. Emma can't help but smile when she watches him talk passionately about plants because of how his eyes sparkle and how easy it is to understand his explanations. However, he then apologizes for rambling. While he's always delighted by how Emma listens to him, he tells her that she's free to hit him if he starts to sound boring, if his explanation's too confusing, or if he's going on for too long. Emma could never; she has no complaints at all. She tells him that she could listen to him all day. Keith's relieved to hear that and wraps his hand around hers.
The two share a kiss and then stare intently at each other when Emma notices the dark circles forming under Keith's eyes. Keith's embarrassed that she's noticed and explains that he was researching the plant he had just been talking about late into the night. While it doesn't seem like he's lying, Emma's sure that it's not the only reason. She's about to ask about it when someone calls Emma's name and suddenly hugs her from behind. She starts to fall forward from the force of the hug, but luckily Keith stabilizes her.
Keith gently scolds his younger sister, Mireille, for the glomp. Just like her brother, Mireille has wavy olive-colored hair and golden eyes. Mireille apologizes; the moment she saw Emma, her body started moving on its own. Aww, she calls Emma "big sister". Emma says it's alright, she also gets the urge to run toward Mireille whenever she sees her. Mireille asks Emma to be the one to hug her next time. Emma will do her best.
Keith asks his sister to let go or else Emma's going to stuck sandwiched between them. Mireille just tightens her hold on Emma and tells her brother to let go since he usually gets Emma all to himself. On the contrary, Mireille's usually stuck in her own private estate so she doesn't get to see Emma often so she'd like to enjoy the time they get together. Keith allows it. The two siblings always go back and forth like this, and it always ends with Keith giving in. Mireille really is just like Keith had described back when Emma acted as his guide in Rhodolite.
When Emma first met Mireille, the younger girl looked at her with such hostility and suspicion that Emma immediately put her guard up. She had asked Emma if she was a villainess who seduced her brother. If not, then it's weird that a lovely girl such as herself even fell for her brother who's eyes are like lumps of moisture. Those words definitely shocked her, but felt relief when Mireille believed that her feelings were genuine. And immediately started to call her "big sister". Just practice until the day it actually comes true, she says. Until it comes true, Emma thinks.
Mireille asks if she can join them. Keith's eyes soften and Emma tells her that she can. As Emma listens to Mireille talk about the times she spent her childhood in the conservatory, Emma feels Keith's fingers wrap around hers. He hopes she'll forgive him, he whispers. Emma nods in response. Keith's a lot more possessive than she thought.
Later on, a servant enters the conservatory, putting an end to their time together. As Mireille and Emma say their goodbyes, Keith asks his sister if she's greeted their father yet. She doesn't want to talk to him or even see his face. But she'll be seeing him soon anyway, Mireille then looks at Keith and asks if she can have a word with him.
~~
That night as Emma waits in Keith's room, Alter!Keith returns. Emma goes to make some tea when he takes her hand in his. For some reason, Alter!Keith's kneeling in front of her.
Alter!Keith: Do you love me?
Emma: I love you very much.
Alter!Keith: Always?
Emma: Of course. I'll never fall in love with anyone besides you.
Alter!Keith: Us too. You're the first woman we've ever wanted so badly.
Emma: T-thank you.
Seems like Alter!Keith then asks Keith if he heard what Emma said. He then kisses her left ring finger, making her heart flutter. Alter!Keith then tells Emma to marry them.
~~
In her room, Emma tries on a dress for the engagement ceremony. The skirt spreads like a flower while the bodice is embroidered with lace and beads. Keith can't take his eyes off of her. The moment he saw her in the dress, it took his breath away. He wishes he could have the engagement ceremony with just the two of them because he doesn't want anyone else to see her. Embarrassed, Emma looks away but Keith turns her face back to him. He'd like her to look at him just a little longer.
As Emma lets Keith continue to take her in, she wonders it Keith had asked Mireille for advice before having the dress made. Which means he had been thinking about getting engaged with Emma for a while. That night when Alter!Keith proposed to her, in response to Emma's shock at the sudden proposal, he teaseed that he should've warned her in advance. Emma asked how he'd known she would accept the proposal. Because he knew that she didn't come to Jade so half-heartedly. It's not like Emma didn't consider the possibility of marrying Keith one day, so she worked hard with her studies in order to support him. Atelier!Keith clumsily stroked her cheek in a comforting manner and asked if she was scared. Emma admitted that it would be a lie to say she's not scared or anxious. Internally, she added that Keith's proposal was like accepting her the way she was now, which gave her some confidence in her ability to be by his side for the rest of their lives. She told Alter!Keith that she's mainly feeling joy. At how simple her words were, she hugged him tightly to convey her feelings better. When Keith swapped back, he was surprised. It was as if he didn't think Emma would actually accept his proposal.
Back to the present, Emma changes back to her usual clothes and finds that Alter!Keith's swapped in. He beckons for her to come closer and pulls her onto his lap. He tells her that they'll decide the design of the engagement ring next. When Emma starts to ask why he she needs to sit on his lap, he hugs her close and bites her neck. Payback for only letting Keith have his fun. The second time she feels his teeth against her neck, she can't even flinch because of how adorable she finds him.
There's still half an hour before the jeweler arrives. Alter!Keith asks Emma what kind of ring she wants. Emma stares at her left ring finger and only one wish comes to mind; it's a selfish one, but she'd like one designed by the Keiths themselves. She gestures to her earring that they designed as a Christmas gift. When she wears it, she feels as if both of them are with her and supporting her, so she'd like the same with the ring. Emma then wonders if she's being a little too selfish since Keith had the dress made for her too, so she's about to apologize when Alter!Keith agrees to it.
Emma asks if it's really alright, and he replies that if the woman he loves asks him to design a ring that'd make her feel as if they were with her at all times, he'd be happy to do so. Emma kisses him on the cheek as thanks and he responds back with some nibbling kisses. Emma gets more nervous as the day of the ceremony draws closer, but more than that she's filled with a feeling of contentment. But there's also a tug at her chest for some unknown reason.
One day as Emma's in the conservatory with a book in hand, looking over the flowers that Keith had taught her about, she happens to run into Liam who asks her how she's feeling. Emma's nervous, ecstatic, and restless. Liam can see that. He says that Keith's the same way. And he can't stop talking about her. If it looks like Liam's not listening, Keith would even ask if he was. Emma tries to hide her smile because of how happy that info's made her and Liam snickers at that. Seems like the two get along well. Liam also lets her know that Keith was just as nervous as her when they went to see the king. Emma hadn't even noticed. Heck, Keith had even help calm her nerves.
Emma notices that Liam's always telling her stuff about both Keiths. The butler says he just has no one else to talk to. Emma's the only other person that's aware of both Keiths. Liam tells her that up until now, he wanted to fulfill Keith's wish to die while he lived because Keith was important to him and it was all he could do, so he's grateful for the happiness Emma has brought to Keith. He's more happy than anyone else that the two got engaged. Liam's blessing gives her encouragement. And it seems that she finally understands what the tugging at her chest is.
That night in Keith's room, Emma asks him to sit with her. She tells him that there's somewhere she'd like to go before the ceremony
Sweet End (Emma's POV)
Premium End (Keith's POV)
48 notes · View notes
choclodox · 9 months
Text
Change Is Who We Are
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Chapter 1 - Encounter
Word Count: 4023
(next chapter)
“Aunt Nikea, when will the Night People come see us?”
“They will someday, and when they do, it will be beautiful. But I am afraid that it is a day I will not live to see.”
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The sun was taking the light with it as it started to set behind Polyphemus. Oliver had just started a fire to keep himself warm for the night. Tomahawk, his banshee, was perched in the nearby canopy of the island’s small forest, snacking on some fish he had caught earlier. As Oliver stared into the flames, he was reminded of the events from two nights ago.
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Gunfire and screaming filled his ears. His squad mates were getting picked off one by one. If he thought the first encounter with the Sullies in the forest was brutal, then this was more than a rude awakening.
“Mansk!”
By the time he turned around after hearing Prager call his name, Oliver saw his teammate get impaled with a spear. Not even a second later, Sully had dropped from a staircase overhead and landed right in front of the private. He raised his gun to take aim, but before Oliver could fire, a dead body was being hurled at him with full force. 
Sully’s wrathful glare was the last thing Oliver saw before he stumbled backwards against the railing. He tried to stop himself from falling over, but he did anyway after losing his footing and banging his head against the railing.
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It couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes. Flashing lights overwhelmed his vision and made his head spin. Oliver wearily lifted a hand to push himself up, but the second he did, his body slipped forward.
The sudden slide was enough to speed up his recovery and make him grab the railing before he could fall any further. His eyes widened upon realizing that the ship was beginning to capsize: If he didn’t move fast, he’d be taken with it.
He could save himself from drowning by running across the deck and jumping overboard, but that was risky if not impossible after such a hard hit to the head. Opting for the only option he could, Oliver steadied himself, shook his head to ward off the double-vision, and ran for his life.
Hauling his ass to the boat’s edge while dodging the debris falling in his path was hard enough, but between a brutal concussion, the AR on his back, and flames nipping at his heels, Oliver was starting to wonder if he would even live to see morning. He tossed his AR to the side. It wasn’t ideal, but at least he still had his WASP revolver. 
He didn’t have a second to lose once he was at the rail: one of the catwalks above had just collapsed and was about to cut off his escape route. As he gracelessly leapt over the railing, Oliver could swear that a few hairs on the tip of his tail were singed by the surge of sparks. 
The landing into the water was simple enough. He just crossed his arms, straightened his legs, and closed his eyes. It was the cold shock of the water and darkness that caught him off guard.
Even with a Na’vi body that gave him better night vision, he couldn’t see a thing when he was underwater and struggling to remember which way was up. It’d been a while since he had done any actual swimming. In fact, this was his first time ever as a recom. But he couldn’t afford to panic. Not right now. 
Oliver sacrificed a breath of air to see what direction the bubbles would flow and figured out that he was facing sideways. His lungs were burning and screaming for air; his arms and legs felt like they were about to give out, and right when he thought he wouldn’t make it in time, he gave one last kick and breached the surface. The gasp he let out could be heard for miles. 
The private panted as he regained his strength. He looked around and found a floating crate as if it were a Godsend. He eagerly doggy paddled his way toward it, and as soon as he latched on, the current suddenly changed.
He was far away enough that he didn’t have to worry about being pulled toward the scene, but in the distance, Oliver could see that the ship, engulfed in flames, had fully capsized and was now sinking. 
He pressed his hand to his throat comm.
“Z-dog, you read?”
Nothing.
“Lyle? Colonel?”
Silence.
He tried again, but he noticed that the comm wasn’t sitting correctly against his throat. Oliver tore it off and held it to the fire’s light to see what was wrong with the damn thing.
The backing of one of the buttons was dislodged and had allowed water to drown the comm’s inner workings: 
”Dammit!” he cursed.
The private couldn’t even start paddling toward the wreckage; the oil spill had been set ablaze, separating him from the ship. Oliver could only watch helplessly as the vessel fell below the surface.
His head started buzzing now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off. He didn’t want to accept that there was nothing left he could do, that he might be the sole survivor while all of his friends died in the fire. His ears fell back as he pressed his forehead to the crate. 
His thoughts were interrupted when a screech came from above. Oliver only had a few seconds to look up before Tomahawk tried to land on the crate next to his rider.
“Tomahawk, no!” he yelled. The crate swayed beneath them from the unbalanced weight, and the banshee let out a startled squawk as he tried to steady himself. As close as the two of them were, even Oliver had to admit that Tomahawk wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
Once they both balanced themselves on the crate, and now that Tomahawk had calmed down, Oliver was able to lean over and grab onto his saddle. It was an awkward process to climb onto Tomahawk’s back while trying not to topple back into the water, but the private couldn’t afford for his banshee to take off while he was still stuck in the ocean.
Once he was secure on the seat, he queued up with Tomahawk and took off for the sky. Oliver made one last circle around the wreckage, and as far as he could see, there was no sign of survivors in the wreckage. No sign of life.
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His stomach turned from the guilt, so he turned his eyes to the night sky. It reminded him of the night he first arrived on Pandora, back when he was human.
The officers barked at them to run straight into the compound and not to stop until they were inside. He’d only jogged a few yards when he glanced up. The sheer number of stars and the clarity of the other moons made him stop dead in his tracks. It was so much different than looking at it through a satellite station’s windows.
Oliver had only known what a night sky looked like from textbooks and the internet; Earth’s atmosphere was so polluted with smog that you could barely see the moon. It didn’t help either that he grew up in the city where the light pollution was bad too. Granted, the moon was practically gone ever since the RDA obliterated it to harvest its metal.
A nearby corporal snapped him out of his thoughts.  
“Quit the gawking and hurry the fuck up!”
That was how Oliver met Lyle. Good times.
The guy was a certified asshole, but surprisingly enough, turned out to be a great friend. And it was through Lyle that Oliver met his other closest friends, like Z-dog, Fike, Ja, and Prager. They were lucky that they all got to be friends in this life too. Even if it was short lived.
Tomahawk’s shrieks erupted from the canopy. Oliver’s head snapped upwards to see what was going on when he was snatched from the sands and lifted into the air.
He craned his neck to see what it was that grabbed him, but he couldn’t get a good look with the limited range of movement. The private struggled to reach for his WASP, but the animal held his arms too tight for him to move.
It dumped him onto one of the enormous trees’ limbs where he continued to tumble from the momentum. He managed to grab the moss in time before he fell over the edge and fell the long way back to the ground.
Sensing that the animal had left, Oliver scrambled to his feet and drew his WASP from its holster. His breathing was quick but calm. He remembered what Spider had taught him and the other recoms about using their new heightened senses. Something about when you see nothing, you see everything, right? 
Oliver flicked his ears in different directions and dropped into a crouch. His eyes couldn’t see anything disturbing the bioluminescent foliage, and his ears weren’t sensing anything behind him. He also couldn’t feel any vibrations in the tree limb through his feet to tell him there was something else walking nearby. His nose, however, told a different story. 
There was a new scent coming from behind him. Something about it was very particular. It was almost… familiar?
Apparently, his sense of smell was more sensitive that the rest of the squad’s, and that made things even more uncomfortable for him than they already were. It creeped him out to be able to smell someone’s emotions because of the way hormones worked . Oliver had asked one of the doctors about it when the recoms had to get a routine check up; They said that it was normal and “not to worry about it.” It didn’t make him feel any less of a freak, though. 
But he knew that whatever it was he sensed, it was behind him and drawing nearer by the second—
A hand grabbed the barrel of his WASP and a foot slammed into his gut. The kick was so hard that Oliver probably would’ve thrown up if he’d had a chance to eat earlier. He felt his gun get pulled out of his hand and fell square on his ass.
He looked up to see a Na’vi woman staring down at him. She was about his age (late 20s, early 30s), but it was hard to tell because of the strange way she dressed.
The RDA had given the rundown on all of Pandora’s Na’vi races regardless of whether or not the recoms would ever run into them. They’d seen pictures and watched videos for two weeks straight, but Oliver didn’t remember any mentions of the kind of Na’vi he was looking at right now.
The biggest difference was the clothing. She was wearing a long black clock that went down to her ankles. She also had one of those visors that he’d seen Na’vi warriors wear when they rode their banshees, but this one had black insect wings that covered the entire top half of her face. Only her big glowing eyes could shine through. Then there were the ears. Hers were so much bigger, and they each had tufts at the end that bounced as she adjusted her ears’ positions. Oliver noticed that her left one was mangled and scarred to the point where it flopped over slightly.
Yeah…if these guys had been in the lecture, he would’ve remembered.
His eyes widened when he heard a blade unsheath from under her cloak. Before he could blink, she was pointing a knife at him. Nope…not a knife, a machete.
He jumped to his feet and drew his knife. The Na’vi woman’s scarred ear twitched in annoyance, and, while maintaining eye contact with him, turned her machete to Oliver’s campfire in the distance. There, he could see a pack of viperwolves fighting over and munching away on the fish he had worked so hard to catch. Great. Now he didn’t have anything to eat for tomorrow’s flight to the next island.
Oliver let out a growl of frustration but stopped when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.
He thought it was nothing at first. Then a light flickered. It flickered again and this time, he could see it was shaped like an eye: the kind you’d see on a moth’s wings. As the light moved closer, Oliver realized that what he had thought was the trunk of the tree all along was actually the animal that had snatched him up earlier. 
It was shaped like a banshee, but it had two extra arms tucked to its chest. Instead of the typical bright colorations and patterns, it had black leathery skin, a smaller body, and much broader wings than Tomahawk. Oliver was going to comment on the lack of glowing freckles until the animal’s antennae bristled, and instantaneously, its body illuminated with thousands of rippling lights. It reared up on its back legs. On its enourmous curved wings, he could see giant pairs of eye-spots staring right back at him.
It was beautiful. It was terrifying.
When he turned his knife towards the animal, he heard another blade behind him leaving the sheath. Thank God this lady was smart enough to put their differences aside to fight off whatever this thing–
A blade’s point gently but warningly poked his back. His eyes widened, and then the animal before them leapt over the two of them. Oliver didn’t know what else to do, so he slowly put his knife back into its sheath. He let out a mental sigh of relief when he felt the machete lower itself from his back, and when he turned around, the banshee-like creature stood behind the woman in a defensive stance. There was a saddle sitting on its shoulders; whatever that thing was called, it was her mount, and she was its rider.
“Ka…ltxì,” Oliver said slowly. It might’ve been an awkward way to start a conversation, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Spider directed all of his Na’vi lessons towards Quaritch most of the time, so his vocabulary was limited.
The woman still had that owl-like stare locked on him when she tilted her head to examine him. It was probably his eyes that were weirding her out. Ever since he woke up on the table, he’d been covering his eyes with sunglasses because of a hiccup with his recom body. His left eye was yellow like it was supposed to be, but the right one was a shade of green for a reason the doctors couldn’t explain. 
“Oeru syaw,” he said, and then pointed at himself. “Um…Oliver. Oliver Mansk. Angya?”
The Na’vi’s banshee cocked its head at him disapprovingly. At least Oliver thought it was meant to be disapproving. It was hard to tell since it didn’t have eyes. Just soft indents on its face where they should’ve been.
Flapping sounds emerged from the darkness as Tomahawk finally came to his rider’s rescue.
“About damn time,” Oliver muttered and rubbed his banshee’s snout. Tomahawk let out a hiss at the Na’vi woman and the strange creature behind her. In return, her banshee’s antennae silently ruffled up, and Tomahawk cowered behind Oliver.
“Are you serious right now?” Oliver groaned. He turned his gaze back at the woman whose expression was now bordering on judgmental. She rolled her eyes and turned to hoist herself onto her banshee’s saddle. That’s when Oliver spotted something odd under the feathers of her cloak’s collar.
“Is that a throat comm?” he asked in plain English. Her eyes widened and she faced him again. The banshee-like creature snaked its head in front of its rider to protect her. Jesus, for an animal that couldn’t see, it could sure read a room.
“Looks like you know English, too,” he scoffed.
She didn’t move. Neither did her banshee. They just kept staring at Oliver and Tomahawk. Well… the woman kept staring. He wasn’t really sure what to call it when the banshee had the whole no-eyes situation.
“In fact, I knew that scent was familiar,” he said. “You’re from the forest, aren’t you?”
The woman’s large ears shot upward, and her eyes screwed up in confusion under her visor. Now that got her attention.
“And there’s no way you could’ve disarmed me the way you did. Not without someone with experience to teach you,” he said. “So I’m willing to bet good money you know Sully too.”
She still wasn’t moving, just watching.
Now, Oliver didn’t want to admit it, but without his gun, he didn’t stand a chance against her. Not when she was holding two machetes and had a freakish-banshee to back her up. He was just going to have to bluff and hope that it scared her off.
“Look, if you just take it easy,” Oliver said. “I won’t tell my squad about you when they get back to our little campsite. They’re gonna be wondering where I am, so you might–”
“For a demon, you’re not very good at lying,” she said. 
Now it was Oliver’s turn to be surprised. He didn't expect her English to be that good. Sure, she had an accent, but she was clearly fluent.
“And instead of raising your knife against my ikran, you could be more appreciative of the fact that I just saved your life,” she added with an annoyed tone. “Those aynantang had been watching you the moment you started cooking those fish.”
Aynantang? Oliver asked himself. She must’ve meant the viperwolves.
“Where is the boy?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Oliver answered. She tilted her head and frowned as if to say really? 
He sighed, “I don’t know. I got separated from my group. I’m just trying to find my way back home.”
The woman looked to her banshee who still hadn’t shifted its “gaze” from Oliver and Tomahawk. She rolled her eyes again and resumed the process of climbing onto the saddle. The private noticed that this saddle had wider foot holds and that there were straps tied along the creature’s neck in addition.
“Wait, so,” Oliver asked in confusion. “You’re just gonna leave? You’re not gonna kill me?”
“I don’t have to,” the woman deadpanned.
She made a clicking sound that signaled her banshee to leap off the tree limb and into the night. Oliver ran to the edge just in time to catch a glimpse of her banshee’s eye spots just before they disappeared into the night.
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Nikea couldn’t help but silently curse herself after that encounter. She must’ve gotten careless when she and Rini were tracking that pack of demons back in the forest. That or the man was just blessed with better senses than the rest of his friends. 
But no matter, that problem would solve itself: he was ignorant enough to camp on the forest floor where the aynantang and aypalulukan could catch him, and his fate was decided the moment he was chosen by that incredibly dense ikran. 
But Nikea had bigger issues at hand. It didn’t bode well that she found one of these demons so close to Awa’atlu, where Neytiri and her family had taken residence. On the bright side, if Nikea ran into him here, then there was a chance that Spider wasn’t far.
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“Are you listening to yourselves?”
Jake, Neytiri, and Nikea were standing in the Sullys’ family tent as they discussed an important matter. Neytiri was on the far side packing her personal belongings while Jake leaned against one of the posts. Nikea stood with her arms crossed across from Jake trying to talk some sense into him.
“They sent demons after our family!” Neytiri said while packing her things for their journey. “I do not wish to leave either, but it is for the best.”
If the situation wasn’t so grave, Nikea would’ve been laughing.
“I would understand if you wanted to leave your children with another clan while you fight here, but this is ridiculous!”
“It’s the only way to keep this family safe, the clan safe,” Jake said. “Them coming after me is what put the kids in harm’s way.”
“The Sky People threaten your children, and this is how you rise to the occasion?” Nikea asked. “Neytiri, how can you go along with this?”
Neytiri’s unwillingness to take her side was aggravating. She was opposed to leaving the forest too until Jake convinced her otherwise.
“And you,” Nikea continued, turning back to Jake. “Since when do you run from a fight? Even if the Sky People stop looking for you, they will still continue to destroy everything until there is nothing left of this world! The only way to save your family is to drive them out!”
“The war can be won without Jake leading—”
“Of course it can’t,” Nikea spat. “He used to be a warrior of the Sky People! The only reason we won the battle all those years ago was because of his insight!”
“Maybe we’d have a better chance at winning if you’d help us get the Night People on our side!” Jake countered, but he immediately regretted it when Nikea’s eyes widened and she bared her teeth.
“Do not try to blame me or the Alyara for your foolish decisions,” Nikea hissed. “I already explained to you that even if Nakir wasn't their Tsa'hik, they still wouldn't help.”
“They have Spider! Who knows what info they’ll get out of him!” Jake continued, trying to change the subject again. The hair on Nikea’s tail bristled at that remark.
“Spider would die for this clan knowing full well you wouldn’t even try to go back for him,” she hissed. “Everyone knows that boy is incapable of betraying us.”
“Of course he would betray us,” Neytiri said reluctantly packing the last of her clothes. “He is the son of the man who destroyed Kelutral. I’m the one who killed—”
“This animosity between you and the boy is of your making and yours alone, Neytiri!” Nikea replied vehemently. “He is just a child! When will you see that?”
“They can torture him, Nikea,” Jake said, trying to reason with her. “They have ways of picking his brain for all of the answers they want even if he’s not willing to tell them. Hell, they’re probably doing it right now!”
“All the more reason for you to stay!” Nikea exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “If not to rescue him, then to lead the people with a new battle strategy. We can work on finding him as we advance our attacks.”
“Do you have a death wish?” Neytiri growled. She tossed the now fully packed bag at Nikea’s feet. “Being within seeing-eye-distance of their settlements could get you kill—”
“What if it had been one of your children?” Nikea shouted. “Don’t either of you at least care that they took him? Enough to even try to find him?” 
Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Neytiri had nothing to say while her tail whipped behind her.
The silence that followed spoke volumes, and Nikea shook her head.
“You shame yourselves.”
Nikea turned to leave the tent and then paused at the tent’s entrance.
“The Sky People do not have outposts in the Eastern Seas,” Nikea said. “The Metkayina clan is in the center of that region. It will make it harder for you to be found. I have only ever been to the southern islands, but from what I have heard, Tonowari is a tough Olo’eyktan—their Tsa’hik Ronal is even tougher. I will have the route ready for you by sunrise.”
“You’re not coming with us? To guide us there?” Neytiri asked incredulously. She put her hands on Nikea’s shoulders, silently begging her to change her mind.
“So you can manipulate me into staying there once we arrive?” Nikea asked. She swatted Neytiri’s hands away.
“If there is a chance that Spider is alive, then I intend to bring him home,” Nikea stated. “Someone has to be able to say that they tried.”
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          Kaltxì = Hello oeru syaw = I am called Angya = You Aynantang =Viperwolves Aypalulukan = Thanators Ayram alusìng = Hallelujah Mountains
53 notes · View notes
conradscrime · 11 months
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The Mystery of the Mary Celeste
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May 11, 2023
The Mary Celeste ship was built in Spencer’s Island, Nova Scotia and was launched under British registration as Amazon on May 18, 1861. On the registration documents the ship was 99.3 feet long, 25.5 feet broad, with a depth of 11.7 feet. 
She had previously been in a wreck in Cape Breton and was very damaged. In November 1868, a man named Richard W. Haines, from New York paid $1,750 (US) for the wrecked ship and spent $8,825 to restore it. In December 1868, the ship was registered to the Collector of the Port of New York as an American vessel under the name, Mary Celeste. Haines also became the captain of her. 
In October 1869, the ship was seized from Haines and sold to a New York consortium. For at least three years there is no record of Mary Celeste’s trading activities. In 1872, she underwent a refit that cost $10,000 and her size was increased, and the new captain’s name was Benjamin Spooner Briggs. 
In October 1872, Briggs, his wife, and infant daughter took Mary Celeste on her first voyage, after her New York refit, to Genoa, Italy. Briggs had left his school aged son behind to be taken care of by his grandmother. 
Briggs chose the crew for the voyage himself, including first mate Albert G. Richardson, second mate Andrew Gilling, 25 years old, the steward was Edward William Head, and four seamen who were German from the Frisian Islands: brothers Volkert and Boz Lorenzen, Arian Martens, and Gottlieb Goudschaal. Briggs and his wife were extremely satisfied with the crew. 
On October 20, 1872, Briggs went to Pier 50 on the East River in New York City to supervise the ship loading 1,701 barrels of alcohol. Briggs’ wife and infant joined him a week later. 
On Tuesday, November 5, 1872, Mary Celeste left Pier 50 and went into New York Harbor. The weather was uncertain, so they waited for better conditions. After two days, the weather was good enough to begin the voyage, and so Mary Celeste sailed into the Atlantic. 
A Canadian ship, Dei Gratia was nearby in Hoboken, New Jersey, waiting on cargo before they set sail. The Captain, David Morehouse, and first mate Oliver Deveau were Nova Scotians who were highly experienced. It was even rumoured that Captain Morehouse and Briggs were friends and had dined together the night before Mary Celeste departed, however the evidence of this comes from Morehouses’ widow 50 years after the event. 
Dei Gratia departed for Gibraltar on November 15, 1872, following the same route as Mary Celeste had seven days earlier. 
On December 4, 1872, between the Azores and the coast of Portugal, Captain Morehouse on the Dei Gratia was made aware that there was a vessel heading unsteadily towards them about 6 miles away. The ship appeared to be making erratic movements, leading Morehouse to believe something must be wrong. 
Captain Morehouse noticed there was nobody on deck when the ship came closer, and they were receiving no replies from their signals. Captain Morehouse sent Deveau and his second mate John Wright in a boat to investigate the strange vessel. 
The two men discovered that this vessel was indeed the Mary Celeste, as the name was on her stern, so they climbed onto the ship and found that it had been completely deserted; there was not one person around. The sails were partly set and in poor condition, some were completely missing and a lot of the rigging had been damaged, with ropes hanging over the sides. The ship had a single lifeboat that was missing. The binnacle that had the ship’s compass in it was out of place and the glass cover was broken. 
There was 3.5 feet of water in the hold, however that was not suspicious for a ship of that size. A makeshift sounding rod which measures the water in the hold was found abandoned on the deck. 
The Mary Celestes’ daily log was in the mate’s cabin, and the final entry date had been at 8 am on November 25, nine days before the ship was discovered. The position was recorded to be about 400 nautical miles from the point where Dei Gratia had found her.
Deveau reported that the inside of the cabin had been wet and untidy from water that had come in through doorways and skylights, however it was mostly in order. There were personal items scattered in Captain Briggs’ cabin, however most of the ship’s papers were missing, along with navigational instruments. 
There was no obvious signs of fire or violence, and there was no food prepared or being prepared. It appeared that there had been an orderly departure from the Mary Celeste, the crew using the missing lifeboat. 
Captain Morehouse decided to bring Mary Celeste to Gibraltar, which was 600 nautical miles away. Under maritime law, a salvor could get a decent amount of money of a rescued vessel and cargo. 
Morehouse divided his crew, and sent 3 members on the Mary Celeste, which he and four other members stayed on the Dei Gratia; however this meant that each ship was very under crewed. Dei Gratia arrived at Gibraltar on December 12, while Mary Celeste arrived the next day due to fog. 
The salvage court hearings began on December 17, 1872, Captain Morehouse had written to his wife that he believed he would be paid well for the Mary Celeste salvage. Testimony from Deveau and Wright convinced the court that a crime had been committed, foul play was involved.
On December 23, 1872, there was an examination of Mary Celeste, which reported that there were cuts on each side of the bow, caused by what they thought a sharp instrument. There was also what appeared to be possible traces of blood on Captain Briggs’ sword. 
The report stated that the ship did not appear to have been struck by heavy weather, or been involved in a collision. A group of Royal Naval captains also examined the ship and said the cuts on the bow seemed to be caused deliberately. There was also stains on one of the ship’s rails that might have been blood, with a deep mark possibly caused by an axe. 
On January 22, 1873, the reports from the court hearings were sent to the Board of Trade in London, with Frederick Solly-Flood, the Attorney General of Gibraltar concluded that the crew on the Dei Gratia had wanted to steal the alcohol on the Mary Celeste, and murdered Captain Briggs’ and his crew in a drunken frenzy. Flood believed that Captain Morehouse and his men were hiding something, that the daily log of where the Mary Celeste had been had been doctored. Flood did not believe that the ship could have travelled 400 nautical miles while being uncrewed.
It was discovered that what appeared to be “blood stains” were in fact not blood, which setback Flood’s theory of murder. Another blow was when Captain Shufeldt of the US Navy reported the marks on the bow were not man-made, but came from natural actions of the sea. 
There was nothing concrete, so Flood had to release the Mary Celeste from the court’s jurisdiction on February 25, 1873. The salvage payment was decided on April 8, 1873, the award was about one-fifth of the total value of ship and cargo, far lower than what was expected. 
While Flood’s theories of murder were not very convincing, there was still suspicion that the ship had met foul play of some sort. Some believed that Briggs and Morehouse were involved together, wanting the money, but it doesn’t make sense that they would have planned such an attention drawing event. Others also comment that if Briggs wanted to disappear permanently he wouldn’t of left his young son behind with his mother. 
Some believed the Mary Celeste was attacked by Riffian pirates who were active off the coast of Morocco in the 1870′s, however this has been largely dismissed because pirates would have looted the ship, yet the captain’s personal possessions were found; some which had significant value. 
A New York insurance appraiser named Arthur N. Putman, was a leading investigator in sea mysteries in the early 20th century. He proposed a lifeboat theory, stating that only one single lifeboat had been missing, the rope had been cut, not untied, which meant that when the Mary Celeste was abandoned, it happened very quickly. 
There was multiple times in the ship’s logs where it was mentioned there was ominous rumbling and small explosions from the hold. Putman believed that the alcohol on ship gave off explosive gas and one day there was a more intense explosion of this. A sailor perhaps went below deck with a light or a lit cigar which set off fumes causing an explosion that was violent enough to blow off the top covering on the hatch, explaining why it was found in an unusual position. Putman believes Briggs and the crew were in a panic and piled into one lifeboat, abandoning Mary Celeste. 
Deveau, who was one of the men who examined the abandoned ship on sea, proposed that Briggs abandoned the ship after false sounding, there might of been a malfunction of the pumps or another mishap, giving the impression the ship was taking on water at a rapid pace, the crew might have assumed the ship was in danger of sinking. 
Mary Celeste made her way to Genoa, and then left on June 26, 1873. She arrived in New York on September 19, 1873. Due to the Gibraltar hearings and newspaper stories she became quite unpopular, nobody wanted her. In February 1874, Mary Celeste was sold at a considerable loss to a partnership of New York businessmen. 
Mary Celeste sailed mainly in the West Indian and Indian Ocean routes, but was losing a lot of money. In February 1879, her captain was a man named Edgar Tuthill, who had fallen ill. Tuthill died and some believed the ship was cursed, as he was the third captain who had died prematurely. 
In August 1884, a new captain named Gilman C. Parker took on the ship. On January 3, 1885, Mary Celeste approached a large coral reef, the Rochelois Bank, where she purposely ran into it, ripping out the bottom and wrecking her beyond repair. The crew then rowed themselves ashore, and sold what was left of the cargo for $500. 
In July 1885, Parker and his shippers were tried in Boston for conspiracy to commit insurance fraud, with Parker also being charged with “wilfully casting away the ship” which was known as barratry, which you could be sentenced to death for. 
On August 15, 1885, the jury could not agree on a verdict. Instead of having another trial, which cost a lot of money, the judge negotiated an arrangement where Parker and his crew withdrew their insurance claims and repaid what they got. The barratry charge was deferred and Parker was set free, though his reputation was ruined. 
Parker died in poverty three months later, one of the co-defendants went mad and another ended his life. This further caused people to believe Mary Celeste was cursed. 
At Spencer’s Island, Mary Celeste and her lost crew are commemorated by a monument, and by a memorial outdoor cinema built in the shape of the vessel’s hull. The fate of the crew of the Mary Celeste have never been discovered, and over 150 years later, it is unlikely we will ever discover the truth. 
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