#there's still a long way to go if they want to conquer europe. and this isn't 2018/19 messi anymore

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 9

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, dirty talk, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, praise.

Part 9

"What did I miss?" Liana asked as she sat down, seeing the boys exchange looks. Sometimes they spoke without words. She always envied that connection. She didn’t have anyone who could understand her with just a nod or a blink or, in this case, a stare.

"Hello, Earth to Art and Patrick?" she tried to join in, but something about the current situation didn’t feel right. "It's my turn to go inside. I need to drink some water. You two catch up, it's been a while since you’ve seen each other," Art said without looking at her, causing Liana to frown as he walked away. "That was weird, right?" she asked Patrick, who responded with a half-smile. "When is Art not weird?" he said. "How are you?" he asked, turning his gaze back to her and seeing her give the widest smile she could offer anyone. "Do you forgive me?" she asked, moving to sit next to him, placing her head on his shoulder. "What do I have to forgive you for, Amanda?" he chuckled, tracing shapes on her shoulder while taking another sip of champagne. "I was terrible. The exams made me crazy," she tried to justify her behavior over the past month. "Do you know if you're leaving yet?" he asked. "I’ll know when we get back from vacation. I’m terrified," she murmured. On one hand, Liana desperately wanted that year in Oxford. She wanted to see Europe. The architecture. The atmosphere. The culture. She wanted to see something other than the American suburb she had lived in her whole life, with the same people and the same opinions and the same tennis. On the other hand, she didn’t want to break her parents’ hearts. Her parents who had always talked about Stanford and how she’d join the family business after she finished school, and her parents who were the best people she knew but whose dreams for her flew past them as if they were never there. And now there was Art too. Art, who in the past two days had made her feel things she had never felt before. Art, who in the months at Stanford had become an inseparable part of her life. Art, who made her stomach ache at the thought of not seeing him for a year. Art, who still didn’t know she was considering leaving. "You’ll pass that test, we both know you will," Patrick said calmly. "And then you'll conquer Europe, building by building." He chuckled, but his voice faded with each word. "And we'll stay here, missing you," he said, and she straightened up, looking at him. "I’m not going to die, you know," Liana rolled her eyes, trying to lighten the conversation. "No, you're just going to meet people much better than us, and I'm enough of a bastard to be worried about that," he said honestly. "I don’t think there are many people in the world better than you, Patrick," she concluded. The next day Art left. He texted her that a spot opened up in some tennis group he could join, and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity. That he’d see her at Stanford. When Liana tried to call, he didn’t answer. So they kept missing each other throughout the vacation, she trying to call just as he was going into practice or the shower or falling asleep, and him sending messages that he was okay, just busy. On the last day of the vacation, she received a message that her exam results had come in. She had been accepted. Liana cried. Which wasn’t anything special because objectively Liana cried a lot, but this time she cried out of excitement. All the effort she put in had paid off, and now she could prepare for the student exchange. She could make her dream come true, start being a real person in the world. The conversation with her parents was horrible. There were shouts and accusations, and her mother said they wouldn’t pay for this, which Liana had suspected might happen. Her father seemed more conciliatory but didn’t say much. "Do you think Mom will be mad at me for long?" she asked him on the way to the airport. If there was one thing Liana hated, it was that it was always obvious she had been crying. Her pale face would turn red, and her eyes would swell, sometimes for days. This was one of those cases. It could be said with confidence that Liana looked like she had been run over by a bus yesterday.

"I know it doesn’t look like it, but we’re proud of you. Mom will come around, don’t worry," her father hugged her as they got out of the car. "I want this so much, Dad," she sighed.

"I know, honey," he said, kissing the top of her head. He hated seeing the emotional turmoil his daughter was in. His daughter, who above all feared disappointing people. "I’ll come back to Stanford after that," she mumbled, feeling the lump in her throat take over again. "I don’t want her to hate me," she looked at him with teary eyes.

"She doesn’t hate you. Li, look at me." Her father tried to wipe her tears. "Your mother is a stubborn woman, and you’ll see that a month after you’re there, she’ll come visit you." He smiled, and she nodded, not sure she believed what he said. "Besides, you have another semester at Stanford. Make the most of it, maybe you’ll love the place as much as we did." He shrugged, seeing her take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I love you, Dad," she hugged him again and started to walk away, hoping everything would calm down and her mother would eventually look at her like she did before she told her she was planning to leave. Art opened the door after five knocks, looking at her with a puzzled expression. "Did we have plans?" he asked. "Hey Arthur, I missed you too," she rolled her eyes and gave him a small kiss on the lips, seeing him close his eyes and deepen the kiss within seconds as he closed the door. "Hey," he smiled at her and moved her hair out of her face. "Have you been crying?" he asked after examining her. Art couldn’t stop himself from asking. It was like an instinct; seeing what he could do to make her feel better. But he was so mad at her that he didn’t really want to talk to her or know how she felt right now; after all, she didn’t care how he felt. He did want to fuck her. He wanted to feel like she was his. He was afraid he was a little addicted to the feeling of looking at her and feeling like she was entirely his. He was afraid that if she left, he wouldn’t feel that way again. He was afraid of losing.

"Did you know?" his mother asked on the phone. Her voice worried. "What?" he returned the question, panting after practice. "That Liana is planning to leave for Oxford? Did you know that?" she demanded the truth. And the truth was that he knew she was leaving. But he didn’t know where or when and he didn’t know it was official. His heart pounded faster. "Yes, I knew," he mumbled, not wanting to reveal how far he felt from Liana in reality. Not wanting to reveal how stupid he felt that of all people, Patrick knew before him. "How could you not say anything, Art, she's our Liana. How will she manage in England alone? She barely manages to find her way in the supermarket without getting lost," his mother sighed. And she was right. He knew she was right. And she wasn’t even their Liana; she was his Liana. And she was his Liana for exactly two days. What an idiot he is. "She’s a big girl. She can navigate the supermarket in England without getting lost. I have to go," he mumbled, angry at himself for still feeling the need to protect her. "Just tired from the flight," she smiled at him a tired smile and felt his lips leaving small kisses on her neck, causing her to close her eyes. "Can I help?" his voice was teasing as he took off her shirt without much resistance. Examining her for a second, as if trying to remember how she looked. "You're already helping," she smiled a genuine smile, and his lips were on her again, hungrier than she had felt him so far. "I want you so much, Li," he groaned into her mouth. His tongue intertwining with hers as if he had wandered for years in the desert and she was his source of water. "Do you want this?" he asked, as they moved to his bed and she nodded. In complete haze, at this point, she decided that Art Donaldson could do whatever he wanted with her. And it was a liberating decision. Knowing she was safe in his hands and he decided how good she could feel now. "Words, Liana," he demanded as he started taking off her jeans. She didn’t even notice she was already half-naked in front of him. "You're wearing too many clothes," she mumbled incoherently as his hand brushed over her panties. "You're already wet, Li?" his voice was amused as he took off his shirt. "Already ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet," he whispered in her ear and heard her moan, which caused him to release a groan of his own. "Do you want this?" he asked again. This time his hand applied more pressure over her panties. "Art." Her voice was desperate. "Please," she whispered, and he bit his lip. Stopping himself from all the things he wanted to do with her. "Please, what?" he asked, his mouth close to hers, teasing, barely touching. He kissed her right cheek and then her left

"Touch me. Please," she almost cried out of frustration and desperation, exactly the way he wanted her. His. His again. And he felt desperate too, so her panties came off in a flash and he gave her exactly what she wanted. He heard her moan beneath him as his fingers moved inside her rhythmically. He felt how tight she was. He tried not to imagine his dick inside her, thinking he might not last. She was a virgin. He knew that. She had told him. He was going to be the first inside her. "So good for me, Li," he murmured and smiled, never taking his eyes off her. He didn't think anyone could look better than Liana did now, beneath him, eyes closed, desperate sounds escaping her, moaning his name. He was sure the student in the room next door was jerking off to the sound of her. He was sure no one in the world could resist Liana Levy when she looked like that beneath him. He was no different from anyone else. Almost captivated. Almost helpless. Just wanting to deliver. Just wanting her to always be like that for him. His lips roamed over her body until they reached her clit, while his hand sped up.

"You take me so well, Li," he said as the room filled with the sound of her fluids and moans.

"I'm going to-" she mumbled, her voice breaking, making him look up at her. He had to see her come. He had to remember this moment.

"Come for me, Li, come on. I want to see you," he demanded in the most authoritative voice he could muster, even though he felt himself melting under her influence.

"Art," she moaned again.

And he was right, her face in that moment was truly the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his 20 years of existence. Her half-open mouth, her eyes closed, slightly teary, her hand on her breast. It was a magnificent sight and he knew only he had seen her like this.

Her body shook and he gave one last kiss on her sensitive clit, then stood before her.

"Open your eyes, Li," he said, and she did exactly as he commanded. "Kiss me. Taste yourself." Another half-command with a smile and scheming eyes. Within seconds, her lips were on his, her tongue mingling with his intensely, just wanting more.

"I want to be inside you," he murmured, and she nodded. "Can I?" he asked. He had to ask. He knew she could say no and he would have to accept it, and if he were less greedy, he might even be satisfied with that anyway.

But he was so angry with her. He wanted her to know. He wanted her to know that just as he was hers, she was his. That she couldn't just ignore him like that. Dismiss him as if he didn't matter.

"Yes," she murmured into his mouth, feeling him smile against her.

"Yes, what?" he asked, teasing.

"Fuck me," she whispered, and it came out vulgar and blunt, uncharacteristic of the girl in front of him. She was even surprised by the words that left her mouth, her eyes widening for a moment before remembering it was Art and relaxing. She was safe with Art. He wouldn't use her words against her. It was okay for her to need him.

"I didn't hear you," he murmured, removing the rest of his clothes and moving to his desk to grab a condom. "I'm on this side of the room, Liana. You need to speak louder." He leaned against the wall as he put the condom on, taking a breath. He had to steady his breathing if he wanted to last inside her for more than three seconds.

"Please, Art. I want to feel you inside me," she said louder, more confidently, more desperately. He moved toward her. "Please fuck me," she looked him in the eyes and bit her lip, feeling almost small but also kind of powerful. He looked almost as desperate as she did as his hand traced her face and then her chest, stopping at her sensitive nipple, making her moan.

"That much, huh?" he asked, positioning the tip of his dick at her entrance and hearing her sigh in response. "Don't worry, I've got you. Are you going to be good for me, Li?" he asked, watching her nod in response. "Are you going to take me like you were made for me?" he asked again.

"Yes, please. Art." She was almost crying with frustration. Liana didn't know what to do to make him enter her already. To feel him. For him to fill her with himself. For him to be close to her. Part of her. She didn't know when she started feeling all these emotions for Art Donaldson, but now was not the time to figure it out. He began to slide into her.

"Oh, Art," she bit his shoulder, making him groan.

"Fuck, Liana. So tight. Fuck. Hang in there, baby, are you okay?" he asked, studying her.

"More," she mumbled. The pain didn't matter. She just wanted him. She wanted all of him. He did move more. A bit more each time. Another moan and another sigh each time until he was fully inside her. Their lips merged in their most sloppy kiss yet. They were one for a moment.

"You can move," she managed to say after a few seconds.

"Are you sure?" he asked, seeing her nod. "Fuck, Li. I won't last long like this," he murmured, his movements gentle. He was careful with her.

When he felt he was close and knew she wouldn't come from the first time someone inside her, he added a finger to play with her clit.

"Fuck, Art," she moaned his name for the umpteenth time.

"I know. You're doing such a good job, Li, taking care of me so well," he said, feeling her tighten around him, bringing him to the edge almost with her.

After a few seconds, he gently pulled out of her, seeing her panting and feeling just as spent. He took off the condom and walked it to the trash, finding his boxers on the way and putting them on. He saw the girl in front of him, completely naked. Completely his.

"When were you planning to tell me?" he asked, looking at her from a distance.

Liana was still in euphoria, her eyes half-closed, confused by the question. "What are you talking about?" she sounded amused, looking at him with a smile as he put on a shirt. For a moment, she felt fragile, not understanding how she was still completely naked while he was fully dressed in front of her.

"About leaving Stanford. About Oxford? I don't know. Maybe there are more things you'd like to tell me." His gaze was cold, making Liana freeze too. She felt her nakedness now. She understood why he was dressed and she wasn't. She was vulnerable right now.

"How long have you known?" she asked quietly, swallowing and searching for her clothes.

"My mom asked me about it yesterday," he said, never taking his eyes off her. "Do you know how stupid I felt when I lied and told her I knew?" he asked. His voice didn't rise, but the frustration was clear.

"Art, I found out two days ago," her eyes glistened and she breathed quickly, feeling everything slipping away from her. He was slipping away from her.

"You're lying," he stated with an eye roll, sitting down on the bed.

"Art," she knelt in front of him, studying his face. He showed no emotion, only coldness.

"It's okay, Liana. We both know what this is," he said, instinctively moving her hair out of her face.

"What is it?" she swallowed. She knew Art. She knew he was about to say something he'd regret, and yet she still pushed him to say it.

"It's me passing time until Tashi realizes she wants me," he said, seeing her expression change to one he'd never seen on her before. She moved his hand from her face quickly and scooted back on the floor as fast as he didn't know she was capable of, as if afraid of his touch.

"Wow." She swallowed, looking at him, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," she tried to salvage the situation, and he chuckled.

"Come on, Liana." He rolled his eyes and lay down on the bed, no longer looking at her.

"You just fucked me, Art." She felt sick. It was the first time she had slept with someone. He knew that. She felt so humiliated.

"I know. I was there, and if I remember correctly, you asked for it. More precisely, you begged-"

"Shut up. Just shut up." She cut him off and stood up. She couldn't hide her tears anymore.

"Why did you do it? We could have just continued meeting at family dinners. Seeing each other in the hallway and occasionally saying hello. Why did you do it?" It came as a sob. She had never felt so humiliated. It was like a truck had run over her.

"I was bored, and you were cute, and let's be honest, a little desperate," her hand found its way to his cheek with a force neither of them knew she possessed. She wanted to apologize automatically because she wasn't violent, but it didn't come out.

"I hate you so much. I will never forgive you. You are the worst person I know." She mumbled and moved toward the door.

"At least I beat Patrick to it," he found himself saying. He had to have the last word in every argument.

"No, Art. You lost to Patrick. Even in twenty years, you won't have half the character and heart that Patrick has already. You're a complete loser compared to him, and I hope you never forget that." She said without stuttering while he didn't take his eyes off her, swallowing hard, finally hearing the door slam.

The moment Liana reached her room, after passing a considerable number of people who looked at her with worried expressions, some even trying to ask if she was okay, she collapsed on the floor and let out the loudest cry that had probably ever escaped her. She felt dirty. Almost used. She had trusted the wrong person.

She picked up the phone to call the only person she thought could understand her.

"Liana, are you okay?" Patrick sounded concerned and confused, probably because of the late hour.

"He really hurt me and I didn't know who else to call," she managed to say through her tears, hearing Patrick sigh, as if silently saying he knew. He knew this would happen.

Writing this part kinda broke me. I know Art was being cruel, but well, he was acting out without thinking about the consequences. Got your requests and maybe on the weekend we'll give Liana/Patrick/Art some more layers. Keep sending me questions and such. I LOVE it. Hope you're still enjoying and again, if you wanna join the taglist, say the word ❤️

taglist: @swetearss @ganana @yoitsme-04 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @serenadingtigers

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fic #challengers #tashi duncan #art donaldson smut

[meowmeowmessi]

Honestly, as much as well talk about it, I kinda don't seen City as an option just becauss they've built their team over the last 2 years, including ofc Grealish who also plays as a 10 and is a starter, and it doesn't feel like they'd want to make any big transfers now. But still I guess we will see in the transfer window for sure, both for City's squad and Messi's decision.

appreciate the reality check, anons 🥲 it's all on leo and whether he believes in whatever "sports project" nonsense pissg is feeding him atp. i seriously doubt he's going to stay in the tinpot club for much longer (dear god let this not be a jinx), but considering barça's financial situation rn, not to mention tebas,,, i really don't think it's a feasible option. and i don't want it to be, either :// not at this moment, anyway. so yes, we can only wait and see what happens in the next transfer window. i'm not too worried about his options tbh— it's fucking messi, not just any random player: all it takes is the news "he is wants to leave" to break out just like the burofax in 2020 and he'll have clubs lining up at his doorstep

#also i've heard grealish has been flopping lately? #saw some ppl on city twt saying they wouldn't mind messi in their squad in place of grealish that got me going HMMM fjdkfj #jokes aside tho. if he leaves pissg and barça can't sign him then i don't see him going anywhere other than city #bc messi enjoys familiarity. he has juli and pep over there. not to mention city was an actual option he was considering back in 2020 #i'd love to see him in napoli too but they're broke so 🥲 #but i really really don't want barça for him rn. administrative and political issues with la liga aside #the way true coolers are moving rn #coupled with PLAYERS saying they hope messi comes back and helps them win the ucl #it's not looking good bruv. hate to burst the bubble but the current squad is only good enough to win the league #there's still a long way to go if they want to conquer europe. and this isn't 2018/19 messi anymore #who can singlehandedly drag them to the ucl semis #if messi comes back and they flop he'll be made the scapegoat. and it'll be so much worse #i understand there's the romantic inside all of us that thinks messi can definitely help the club of his life win the ucl #bc he's the main character of football and a real life mary sue #but listen. even cinderella's magic runs out when the clock strikes midnight #some things are just impossible #and im tired of seeing messi taking the blame for everything. i can take french media throwing stones at him bc they're pests anyway #but i don't want him to get hurt by the club of his life. that'd be too much for me to bear #at the end of the day it's his decision but yeah. city or napoli for me. barça can be his pit stop right before he r words #i have a lot of feelings regarding this sorry :// #asks

[elbiotipo]

If you're from Argentina, you've probably heard about the Iberá wetlands, and you know the tourist pitch: a vast expanse of natural wonders in the middle of Corrientes, full of beautiful lapachos, cute carpinchos and yacarés, and now home to the fastest-growing wild yaguareté population, all with the unique Guaraní influenced culture of rural Corrientes.

Now, things aren't as shiny as they look, since the creation and management of the new national park is still a point of contention in many ways, but you will be suprised that this kind of thinking about the Iberá is very, very recent. Most people considered it an obstacle to progress, a big bunch of swamp in the middle of what could be a very productive ranching province. In a geography book from the 1910s (unfortunately I lost the screencap) it says something like "the biggest obstacle for the development of the province is this swamp, and it should be drained"

This took me to the other side of the world, to the Netherlands. They're known for land reclamation, from literally building their country from the sea. Especially when we're facing rising sea levels because of climate change, the Dutch seem like miracle workers, a look into our future. You will find no shortage of praise about how with some windmills and dams, the Dutch took land "from the sea", and turned it into quaint little polders, making a tiny country in Europe a food exporter and don't they look so nice? But when you look about it, you can barely find anything about what came before those polders. You have to dig and dig to find any mentions of not "sea", but of complex tidal marshes and wetlands, things I've learned are ecologically diverse and protected in many places, but you won't find people talking about that at all when talking about the Netherlands. It's all just polders now. What came before was useless swamp, or a sea to be triumphantly conquered. It's like they were erased from history

The use of that language reminded me of the failed vision of draining Iberá... and the triumphing vision in the Netherlands, and many other places. Maybe those wonderful places, those unique wetlands, would have been a footnote, you wouldn't find anything unless you were a bored ecologist who looked, and not even then. Now, far it be from me to accuse the medieval Dutch, who wanted to have more space to farm, of ecocide. And don't think this is going to be a rant against European ecological imperialism either, as the most anthropized places you can find are actually in China and India. But it does get me thinking.

I work with the concept of landscape, and landscape managing. (Not landscaping, those guys get better paid than me) The concept of landscape is somewhat similar to the concept of ecosystem you know from basic biology, but besides biotic and abiotic factors, you also have to involve cultural factors, that is, humans. There is not a single area of "pristine" untouched nature in the world, that is a myth. Humans have managed these landscapes for as long as they have lived in them. The Amazon, what many people think about when they think about "unspoilt" nature, has a high proportion of domesticated plants growing on it, which were and are still used by the people who live on it, and there once were great civilizations thriving on it. Forests and gardens leave their mark, so much that we can use them to find abandoned settlements. From hunter-gatherers tending and preserving the species vital to their survival in the tundra to engineers in Hong-Kong creating new islands for airports, every human culture has managed their natural resources, creating a landscape.

And this means these landscapes we enjoy are not natural creations. They are affected by natural enviroments; biomes do exist, species have a natural distribution. But they are created and managed by humans. Humans who decide what is valuable to them and what is not. The Dutch, seemingly, found the tidal marshes useless, and they created a new landscape, which changed the history of their nation forever. We here in modern Argentina changed our perception of Iberá, decided to take another approach, and now we made it a cherished part of our heritage, which will also speak about us in the future.

Ultimately, what is a useless swamp to be drained or a beautiful expanse of nature to be cherished depends in our culture, in us humans. We are the ones who manage and change ecosystems based in our economics, our culture, our society. This will become increasingly important, as climate change and ecological degradation becomes harsher and undeniable. We will have to decide what nature is worth to us. Think about what is it worth to you.

#I REALLY had to restrain myself not to make a football joke about the netherlands #cosas mias #ecology #biology #culture #cultural landscapes

[padfootagain]

Walking on Water (I)

Part 1

Here we go for a cute little story for Ben Barnes! This was not requested, and I’ve written this a while ago. Just wanted to include a place I’ve been to, because I was looking at the pictures from these vacations and it was super pretty. That’s all!

There are a few links to some pics of the mountains and places I’m talking about, if you want to get an idea of the landscape on the masterpost for this fic (I’ve tried to describe it, but it’s still interesting to have actual illustrations).

It got a bit too long to be a mere oneshot, so I’ve split it into two parts, I guess you can call that a mini-series? Part 2 is already finished, and will be posted in a couple of days!

Hope you like this cute piece! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: None! Fluff, a little bit of angst, Ben being an idiot, the usual… Best friends to lovers, only one bed, mutual pining, almost kissing… honestly, I’ve used so many tropes in this one!

Summary: Going for a trek across the Alps with your best friend aka crush aka love of your life is bound to get you into an awful lot of trouble.

Word count: 5226

“Why is summer so hot?! I’m melting!”

Ben merely chuckled and kept on walking in front of you. Or rather ‘climbing’, considering the slope you had to conquer.

Come with me hike across the Alps, he said. It will be fun, he said…

You regretted every single one of your choices at that moment. You would have expected for the temperature to be fresh at those altitudes, but you were quickly disappointed. You were covered in sweat and dust, under a burning sun, climbing up a mountain when you could have been in your bed reading a good book.

You cursed under your breath the idiot who was responsible for all your misery.

And there he was, walking in front of you. Oh, for sure he was out of breath and sweating as well, but he somehow managed to look good doing it. You did not. And you could not have cared less about how you looked because you could feel a bloody cramp spreading across your calf and that was really the last thing you needed…

You had followed Ben in his crazy idea of walking for four days straight. Going all the way around the Grande Casse, which, undoubtedly was part of the most beautiful spots of the Alps. And that was saying a lot.

But after two full days of walking in the mountains for seven to eight hours, sleeping on uncomfortable beds in shelters, and feeling like every single one of your muscles hurt… you were starting to lose your joyful temper.

But then again, you had planned this with Ben. You had talked about wanting to spend some time in nature, and you both enjoyed walking and running together; whenever Ben was around, of course. He had had a busy year, between acting and his new music projects, so travelling together for the summer sounded like a brilliant idea. Two full weeks lost in some of the most beautiful mountains in Europe. What could possibly go wrong?

Your crazy friend. That was what went wrong.

And sure, the first couple of days spent in a chalet felt like heaven. You relaxed, you visited some pretty sights, you ate good food, and had so much fun finally spending some quality time with your best friend.

But then came the time for the two of you to start this crazy project of yours to walk for four days in a row, sleeping in mountain shelters and enjoying the wonderful landscapes with your best friend. When Ben had proposed this idea, you were excited.

And now… now the harsh reality of it all had caught up with you, and if you could have gotten away with murdering your best friend, you would have pushed him off a cliff, without a doubt.

“Come on, it’s not so bad!” he encouraged you.

He reached a turn in the path, and waited for you there, moving to the side to let other tourists pass.

When you joined him, he handed you your bottle of water with a grin.

And you wanted to punch him in the face so hard…

“I hate you,” you breathed.

You were struggling to catch your breath, drinking the cold water in long gulps. It felt good. It was cooling you down under the burns of the sun. There was no wind to make the heat more tolerable either.

Ben nodded towards the path up ahead. He was out of breath as well.

“We’re going to reach some trees over there. It should be easier in the shade.”

“I hate you,” you repeated, handing him back your bottle so he could put it back in the little net on the side of your backpack. “Why did you convince me to do this again?”

He laughed, a bright, wonderful laugh, before he pointed at something behind you.

“That’s why.”

You turned around, and took in the breathtaking view.

You had reached a turn in the path, and there was a clear view of the mountains from there. You were too busy looking at your feet to avoid falling because of roots and rocks during your climb, too busy struggling with your breathing and this horrible heat to actually pay attention to your surroundings.

This was a nice and necessary reminder.

Before you a field of wild flowers – purple, red, yellow and white – descended along the side of the mountain you were climbing: a peak on your left that fell abruptly at first, but then more smoothly, gently enough to let grass, bushes and flowers grow. Further on the right, the mountain you stood upon stopped, or rather you lost sight of it beyond pine trees. And beyond these trees, you could see the mountains on the other side of the valley. They faced you with all their height and might, chiselled rocks that seemed to be reaching for the azure sky above, fingers thrown upwards trying to hold the firmament. The tops of the sharp peaks were painted with splashes of white, eternal snow that never melted. They were like innocent spots across black stone.

And all around you, in all direction, as far as the eye could see, it was just mountains. Peaks and falls and snow and forests of greens and golds.

It truly was indescribable. Some of the most beautiful things you had ever seen…

You slowly nodded.

“That’s a pretty good argument.”

But when you turned to Ben again, you were glaring at him.

“Won’t save you from my wrath though.”

Your best friend merely laughed again, readjusting his old red cap upon his head.

“You’ve always been merciless,” he teased, an annoying grin plastered on his features.

He brushed away a couple of droplets of sweat that were rolling down the side of his face, from his temple down to his jawline.

“Have to admit though that walking under this heat is quite painful,” he added, taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

“How long till we reach the shelter?”

“Two hours.”

“I’m going to die.”

“Of course not. I would then have to carry your corpse all the way down the mountain, and that would be way too much effort. So, I’m forbidding you to do so.”

“How generous of you. You could always leave my body here.”

“For your family to kill me? No, thank you.”

You let out a laugh, and he soon joined you.

“It is a pretty sight though,” you nodded once more, letting your gaze drift back to the landscape splayed before you.

You didn’t see Ben’s tender smile as he kept on looking at you.

“It is a beautiful sight, indeed…”

But even if you enjoyed this short break, you still had a long way to go to reach the shelter. You heaved a sigh, turning towards the path again.

You walked for about twenty minutes until the path slowly faded, from a clear line to a mere passage drawn through the grass by the many footsteps of hundreds of hikers. You followed this passage through the tall grass and flowers that tickled your calves and perfumed the air with a sweet smell. You kept on walking until you reached a barrier, made of barbed wire. In the distance, you could hear bells ringing, breaking the quiet of the peaceful scenery: you needed to cross a field where cows were grazing.

You found the handle that allowed you to detach a segment of the wire so you could cross, and you entered the field with Ben. You stopped to admire the cows, remaining at a respectful distance of the quiet animals. They didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the two of you though, eating grass and wildflowers while the bells around their necks rang loudly in the motionless air. Butterflies flew from flower to flower as well, adding even more splashes of colour upon the idyllic landscape. Beyond the cows and field, you could still see the same tall mountains that rose majestically on the other side of the valley.

You were about to start walking again, laughing at Ben as he tried to get rid of an annoying fly, when you heard an animal walking towards you.

It was a donkey. Grey with cute, darker ears and a lazy pace that made you wonder if he really was walking purposefully towards you and Ben or if he was simply minding his own business, and you happened to be on his way.

You had to admit that you looked at the quiet animal with some worry, not sure how to react. Ben, however, had an adorable smile on his face.

“Hi, there,” he said in a calm, welcoming voice.

The animal stopped, seemed to study the two of you, and took a couple more steps to get right in front of Ben.

“You should be careful…” you advised him, but Ben rolled his eyes.

“This guy seems quite calm.”

He tentatively rose his hand, gave the donkey’s nose a few scratched, and the animal wriggled his ears in an appreciative way.

You took the opportunity to take a couple pictures, while Ben was grinning like a boy, still petting the donkey.

“This guy’s very friendly!” he grinned. “You should pet him!”

But you were hesitant…

“Come on!” Ben encouraged you. “Look, he’s very calm.”

Before you could protest, he held your hand in his and guided your palm to rest on the donkey’s muzzle.

The fur was surprisingly soft under your touch. Ben’s touch was burning your hand, it seemed…

You were struggling to breathe, and it was not because of the donkey.

Ben looked down at you with tender eyes, his grin growing fonder and brighter at the same time.

“It’s pretty great, isn’t it.”

You couldn’t help but nod.

“Yeah, pretty great.”

You realized then that you had taken a step closer to Ben, and that you were standing very close, shoulder to shoulder. When you looked up at him, you noticed the way he turned away in a hurry. After spending three days in a row outside, he had caught small sunburns on his cheekbones and on the tip of his nose. Nothing painful, but enough for the skin to turn into an adorable shade of red. You were certain though that he seemed redder than before, as if he were blushing.

He let go of your hand.

“We should get going,” he said, looking away again and he started walking without waiting for your answer.

He didn’t want you to realize that his face was on fire. That even his ears were on fire, actually. That his heart was pounding because of you, because of your fingers under his, because of your shoulder resting gently against his arm, because of the light of the bright sun in your eyes…

He heard you hurrying behind him, and he forced himself to slow down. He took a few deep breaths, calming down.

He had been so good these past few days at hiding the way he truly felt about you, he couldn’t just… show it now and blow everything away and destroy all that you had built together along the years…

No, no… he couldn’t do this. It was too much of a risk to take to tell you about his feelings for you.

For a while, he had thought it was a mere crush, that it would pass. But time had flown by, carrying weeks, and months and years and it seemed that it only got worse. Only got more intense.

The more time went by, the more he was falling desperately in love with you.

He really, really was an idiot for falling in love with his best friend…

“Huh… Ben… I think we have a problem…”

He turned around, and indeed, you had a problem. A problem in the form of a donkey.

Because that friendly animal apparently wanted more than just scratches. He was following you across the field, and had started sniffing your backpack suspiciously.

You hurried to reach your friend, and bravely hid behind him.

“What do we do?”

Ben couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he got an apple out of his bag, and handed it to the animal.

“I reckon that’s why he was so friendly. He was hoping for a treat.”

Indeed, the donkey grabbed Ben’s apple and started munching on it, bits dropping on the grass.

“Let’s make an escape while he’s distracted,” you proposed, and you resumed your walk towards the other side of the field.

When you crossed the barbed wire again, the donkey had started following you once more. He let out a loud cry as Ben walked away.

“You’re really good at making new friends,” you complimented Ben, making him laugh.

“This one’s a little too intrusive though. Very stubborn,” he joked.

He patted the donkey one last time from the across the wires though, before turning away.

“You really do make friends everywhere you go.”

“That’s because I’m absolutely charming, obviously.”

He was joking of course, a giggle badly hidden in his voice and ready to come out at your reply. But your tone was not as humorous as he had expected it to be when you answered.

“Hmm… well, you are quite charming, that’s true.”

You didn’t laugh, and he guessed that you weren’t joking, not fully anyway.

He blushed even more fiercely than before, and was grateful that you were walking in front of him, so you could not see his crimson cheeks.

Le refuge du col de la Vanoise.

Last shelter of your crazy trip, before going down to a village down the mountain the next day.

There was an older building built in stone at the beginning of the 20th century, but that was not the building where you would be spending the night. You would be sleeping in the large, modern one made of wood and metal that sat by its side. When you arrived, you first saw it coming up from the path, its rectangular shape resting at the foot of a peak covered in snow and black stones. You had to admit that it was an impressive sight to see, it seemed ridiculously small next to the large shape of the peak, that some people were brave enough to attempt climbing.

When you turned to Ben, he was grinning, a dreamy expression painted over his features.

“That is one hell of a view to spend the night, don’t you think?”

He finally turned to you, and you couldn’t argue with his statement.

“I think if we walk a bit further, we can even reach the snow, look,” you added, pointing towards the fading grass, where the slope became more intense again and the ground lost any trace of green, in favour of dark grey rocks, that were splashed with stains of white snow.

“That would certainly cool us down,” he laughed.

You had noticed that the air was chiller now, but with so much effort put into trekking, you hadn’t felt the need to put on a pullover yet. The gush of wind that followed made you reconsider your decision, though.

Over 2500 metres above sea level… That was pretty high, you reckoned… And you looked up at the peaks above you, that seemed so close, reachable now, you truly realized how far you had walked in just three days. When you had started, they seemed to be so high above you, unreachable at the time.

You followed Ben as he walked towards the mountain shelter. Black t-shirt hugging his frame, a black backpack, grey shorts and his old red cap, its colours had fainted long ago but he still wore it often. You had gifted him that stupid cap ages ago. Almost… almost a lifetime ago, it seemed.

For how long had the two of you known each other? You had stopped counting. It felt like he had always been here, with you. There had been a change in what you saw in him along the years. Slow, barely noticeable at first. Something that settled in your heart without you noticing, that grew stronger with each minute you spent together. When you realized what it was, it was too late already. You couldn’t go back. You couldn’t see a mere friend in him anymore.

But how could you tell your best friend that you loved him?

It seemed impossible, unfeasible, unreachable. Just like reaching the top of this mountain. You felt too small to achieve such a thing.

A thousand things could go wrong, and you would have rather kept him in your life as your friend than try to have more and lose everything. So, you dated other people, and he had a love life of his own. Somehow though, you always ended up with a glass of wine in his apartment every Friday night. Somehow, he always called you when he was away on Sunday mornings. You watched movies together even if you were thousands of miles apart. You talked to him on the phone until he fell asleep. He listened to you for hours complain about work. He looked at you with this expression in his eyes that was so full of tenderness that you melted everytime.

And you thought, sometimes, as if caught in a dream, as if yielding to a moment of madness, that perhaps… perhaps he felt the same. Perhaps he had stopped seeing you as a friend at one point. Perhaps he loved you too.

But how could you tell your best friend that you loved him?

While you were lost in these thoughts of yours, some that were becoming quite frequent these days, you had reached the shelter, and Ben was checking with the guardian about your reservation. You were still too distracted by your own worries to pay attention to the conversation Ben was leading, in a mix of French and English. You did notice the few French words he spoke though; they made your heart jump every time.

You focused harder on the conversation though, when you heard Ben repeat himself several times. You saw him reaching for his phone in his pocket, and he showed his digital copy of the reservation to the keeper. The bearded man stared at the screen. He looked like he was about fifty, with a face marked by years spent under the wind and sun.

He nodded, taking his time to choose his words as he answered in English, but with a heavy accent.

“I can see that you have booked two beds. There must have been a mistake.”

He shrugged, emphasizing his gesture to show what he meant, in case Ben would have not understood his English. But he had, and so had you.

He lifted a finger to show the two of you to wait. He disappeared inside the shelter, looking for something. You asked Ben what was going on.

“Apparently there was a mistake and they have registered only one bed for us.”

“What? Does that mean we can’t sleep here tonight?”

“I don’t know. The guy is gone looking for something, apparently.”

“But we can’t reach the town tonight, it’s several hours away…”

Ben rested a soothing hand on your arm.

“I’m sure we’ll find a solution, don’t worry. We’re in the middle of the mountains, they’re not going to just abandon on us to spend the night out there.”

Right at that moment, the keeper came back. He had an apologizing smile on his face as he explained the situation, slowly, struggling to find his words sometimes.

The shelter was fully booked for tonight. He couldn’t explain the problem with the online booking system, and it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you needed a place to stay for the night, and it wasn’t an option for the two of you to go somewhere else.

He had found an extra mattress, along with a dozen of blankets. You would still be missing a bed, but you could use the old mattress and the extra blankets to sleep on the floor, while still being at least a little comfortable.

Ben and you exchanged a glance, but there wasn’t anything else to be done. And this poor man before you had no better option either, he couldn’t summon a bed, after all.

So, Ben helped the keeper to carry the mattress across the building, until you reached the corner of a large dormitory filled with many beds. They put down the mattress, along with the blankets, right next to a single bed set in the corner.

But, despite the seven layers of blankets added to the mattress, Ben couldn’t refrain a laugh as he laid down to test his bed for the night, after the French man had left the two of you alone.

“If I can get up again tomorrow morning, it will be a miracle,” he chuckled, running a finger through his hair before replacing his cap on his head.

“Is it that bad? I can sleep on the floor…”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just… destroy my back during the night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous…”

“I’m not. Help me up, would you?”

You offered him your hand, rolling your eyes at him.

You pulled with all your strength to tease him, making him almost fall as he got up. And it made you both laugh but also… It made him hold onto you to keep his balance, and when he looked down at you, you were very close.

Desperately close.

And being so close to you, with your hand still in his, so close that he could feel the air leaving your lungs come to brush his lips, he couldn’t look away from your eyes. He was trapped inside them. He couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. He could only stare, and take in the warmth of your skin against his, and the way he wanted to bend down and finally…

You both jumped as the door of the dormitory opened, and the spell was broken.

You did find snow a few meters away from the shelter.

You did enjoy a nice evening sharing a meal with a hilarious Italian couple, two French sisters, and an old French guy who had been coming here every summer for twenty years.

It was a light evening, filled with stars and funny stories shared with strangers and an awful lot of wine and cheese.

The temperature had dropped considerably during the evening, and when you finally headed to bed around 11pm, you were happy to stay in the shelter and not outside, in a tent.

When you let yourself fall onto the bed, you couldn’t refrain a sigh of relief. Some people sharing the room were already asleep, and you whispered when you saw Ben coming in from the showers. He was still drying his hair with a towel, his dark locks completely dishevelled. He was wearing an oversized black hoodie with a pair of dark jogging trousers.

“I’m so tired,” you whispered as he sat down at the end of your bed.

He yawned, as if to agree with your statement.

“We need to get up early tomorrow. Lots of walking to be done,” he added, his tone matching yours in the quiet room while he rubbed the towel against his rebellious hair.

You threw a glance at the mattress on the floor by the side of your bed, and heaved a sigh.

“You shouldn’t sleep on that thing, by the way.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll break your back.”

“It’s better than the floor.”

“You can sleep with me.”

You stared at each other for a moment. You realized you were staring but so was he. You were trapped in his brown eyes again, as usual. You always were…

The room was quiet, peaceful. Outside the wind had started to blow, got caught in the rocks of the mountains around the shelter. It howled. In the dormitory, you were the only ones talking, your voices mere whispers. On the opposite side of the room, someone was softly snoring.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a voice even lower than before, full with something kind and delicate, fond, almost loving…

You shrugged, trying to hide behind a casual gesture how nervous you truly were.

“Of course. We’ve been friends for… how long?”

“Too much to count at this point,” he answered with an amused smile, but his dark eyes remained on you.

“So… I reckon we can share a bed. We’ve done worse.”.

“Alright,” he nodded, finally freeing you from his intense stare.

He threw the towel on his bag, ran his fingers through his hair to tame the rebel strands. He was avoiding your gaze, but you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice either that he was blushing.

More people walked inside the room, there were only five minutes left before the main lights of the room would be turned off, so that everyone could go to sleep. Or at least, those who didn’t want to spend most of their night outside, enjoying some music and some happy conversations. You were too tired to join them though.

“Move over then, or I’ll have to crush you,” Ben joked, finally turning towards you and waiting for you to lie on your side so he would have enough space next to you.

You both tried to get comfortable, it was quite difficult in the tiny space of the single bed.

“You’ll lose any part of you that touches me during the night by the way,” you joked in a half-threatening tone.

“Alright, but then I’ll push you off the bed if you start snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do. Trust me, you do.”

You both chuckled, but didn’t manage to get comfortable for a while. He winced when your cold feet collided with his.

“How come your toes are so cold! How have they not fallen off yet?” he complained, making you roll your eyes.

But Ben stopped moving, and seemed to think for a second. He threw a glance at the pile of blankets on the empty mattress, before turning to you again.

“Would you prefer not to share the blankets? We have some extra ones. You can keep these two, and I can lie on top of them and get some for myself.”

You considered his offer, but shook your head.

“It doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. You?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“If you steal all the blankets though, I will leave your body to be devoured by vultures.”

“Always so violent, Y/N…”

But he was chuckling, finally settling in a comfortable position. He was on the edge of the bed, but he didn’t seem to mind. A hand under the pillow, he was lying on his side, facing you. You could see his body finally relaxing, and he heaved a satisfied sigh.

“That feels nice,” he smiled. “I have to admit… it was a tiring day. My legs are very sore.”

“I thought you weren’t in pain. I thought you loved climbing.”

“Shut it.”

It was your time to chuckle as you eventually settled down. You didn’t notice that your position matched Ben’s. Hand under the pillow, facing him…

Only when you rested your cheek against the soft cotton did you notice that Ben and you were face to face, so close…

So close… close enough for you to fall in his eyes immediately, irises so dark they seemed the same colour as his pupils. You could feel his breath brushing your lips, the air leaving your lungs mingling in the small space between your faces. Only a few centimetres separated your bodies, you were so close that you couldn’t lay your hand flat on the mattress across the space between your bodies. Instead, your hand was partially closed, and when Ben moved his fingers a little, his knuckles brushed against yours. You didn’t move, but stopped breathing, still lost in his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, and you noticed how his breathing quickened, how he retrieved his fingers instantly, the touch disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. You stared for a few more seconds in silence.

But then it was back. Feathery, and hesitant. The touch of his knuckles against yours, brushing his skin against yours. Warm. Delicate. Slow, as if asking for permission. You didn’t move, and so he didn’t stop.

When he extended his fingers a little more, you opened your hand as well, slowly, as if to invite him in. To invite him to hold your hand in his. And he almost did, moving his fingers around yours. He was about to close them when he paused.

“Maybe I should… turn around. Would that make it… easier?”

Make it easier?

For you to fall asleep? Or for the two of you to act like this wasn’t happening? Like your heart wasn’t pounding, like his breathing wasn’t a mess, like your skin wasn’t on fire, like he didn’t have butterflies all over his stomach, like you didn’t want to close the gap between your bodies and finally run your fingers through his hair, like he didn’t want to lean in and finally kiss you and hold your face in his hands to keep you close…

Would that make it easier if he turned away?

“I don’t know. I’m not sure you should,” you answered in a whisper.

You moved your fingers against his, as if you encouraged him to imprison your hand in his. And he did start to bend his knuckles, to close the trap of his warm skin around yours…

…and then the lights went off.

You had been accustomed to the light, and in this new darkness you couldn’t see a thing. You felt Ben’s movement stop, as he was surprised as well by the sudden blindness.

And somehow, the spell was broken.

You pulled your hand away and turned around as quickly as you could, your back now facing him. You closed your eyes tightly. You tried to calm down…

“Good night, Ben,” you let out in a breath.

He blinked a few times, trying to get accustomed to the night. There was a little bit of light in the room, from the stars outside and the sign indicating the emergency exits. They were enough for him to see your shape after a few seconds. He stared at the form of your shoulders, opened his mouth to respond, to argue…

He lifted his hand slowly, bringing his palm closer to your back. He stopped millimetres away from your shoulder blade, hand open and ready to rest gently on your t-shirt. But he didn’t close the gap. He didn’t touch you. He kept his fingers there, still in mid-air, still close enough to feel the heat escaping your body and warming the world around you. But he didn’t close the gap, he closed his fist instead as he let his hand fall by his side.

He clenched his jaw, shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds. He wanted to call your name…

He didn’t.

“Good night, Y/N.”

You felt the bed caving under his weight as he turned around as well. You waited until he had stopped shifting his weight around to let out the breath you had been holding. You were grateful he couldn’t see the tear that rolled down your cheek.

***************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes x you #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fanfic #ben barnes fic #ben barnes series #fanfiction #fanfic #series #writing

[8iunie]

Måneskin: “When you get famous, people just want to know who you’re f**king”

The global Italian rockers open up about discovering themselves, mastering fame and finding their genderless sound. (posted on 20.01.2023)

It’s late morning and Italian rock band Måneskin are comfortably seated in a swanky West London hotel room, already kitted out in signature Gucci, jet-black eyeliner, and clean-cut 70s-style statement suits. The quartet, an electric gleam of cool against a silver-spotted setting, are nonchalantly scrunched into a deep turquoise couch. Their suave image serves as a reminder of how far they’ve come since their early Italian X Factor days.

Over a year has passed since the group’s whirlwind takeover as glam rock stars conquering the Eurovision Song Contest 2021 and they’re showing no signs of slowing down. In fact, the band’s authentic image and relentless sound has earned them over six million followers on their band’s Instagram account — a figure greater than the population living in their fashion capital hometown, Rome, where the rock and rollers were born. Måneskin’s rise as next generation figureheads isn’t too unconventional, after all, plenty of breakthrough acts – ABBA, Celine Dion, One Direction – have cut their teeth on televised competitions. And as game-changing winners, the rock band are eager to start writing their own legacy.

Måneskin’s commitment to being more than a hazy Eurovision memory is not to be unexpected. The band have committedly popped where you would least expect them – the 2021 BRIT Awards, Gucci’s luxury Aria campaign, or Disney’s live-action adaptation of Cruella – reminding us that they’re not going anywhere. And, just yesterday, the Italian artists spontaneously flew to London for a glitzy one-off showcase to debut their emo ballad, The Loneliest, co-written by British producer MNEK. While they’ve marginally recovered, the band are still buzzing from last night’s sweaty reception at Camden’s The Underworld in front of 500 die-hard fans. (“Oh my god, it was like a sauna in there,” bassist Victoria De Angelis chimes in, her voice hoarse from the manic show). It doesn’t matter if they’re pulling off last-minute sold-out performances or rubbing elbows with Guns’N’Roses, the Eurovision victors are doing it in style: flamboyantly dressed and with a compelling sense of gratitude.

Now, whether they’re rocking fashion red carpets or main stages, Måneskin are ready to make their presence felt. “We’ve gained a lot of successful things in the last year and we’re really happy about all the paths we’re going through,” drummer Ethan Torchio says, gesturing to the wider band. “We never had a specific ambition to gain or to achieve anything. It’s all about how we approach it day by day.”

While the band may not have pinned their hopes on a specific accolade, Måneskin’s shared teenage experiences primed them for their rapid accession as one of Europe’s hottest rock exports. Forming at high school as a unified three-piece, Ethan Torchio joined the gang after responding to an online open call out for a drummer. This fateful pairing, alongside the band’s long-standing friendship has become the crux of Måneskin’s outlook. “We all have a very clear vision — we are very bitchy,” Victoria says confidently, smiling. “We have very specific ideas. Being only four [of us] and not having overproduction, we think that our individual sound really makes the difference”. Ethan, who’s taken to perching on the couch armrest, echoes his bandmate: “We’re perfectionists.”

As Måneskin’s latest album, RUSH!, dawns, the artists have been busy splitting their legacy between Italy and the rest of the world – from showcasing support for Ukraine at Coachella in California to bringing their rock and roll swagger to The Green Fashion Awards alongside style icons Karolina Kurkova and Elisa Sednaoui. “These two ways of expression (rock and roll) are ways in which we have always liked to measure ourselves,” youngest member Thomas Raggi says in accented English. “We like to alternate them because they represent the different musical souls of which the band is composed.”

Måneskin’s rock and roll philosophy is more than a reliable shoehorned statement. Much like their striking clothing, it fits like a well-worn mantra. (“In a younger age, it really helped us define our personality and stand out in some way,” Victoria says.) Growing up in a “very conservative country”, the artists found the music scene as an opportunity to experiment with their image as teenagers. Labelled as “weird” or receiving “a lot of judgements” wasn’t going to hold Måneskin back. Instead, the alternative act learned to lean on each other for support, she says, and strengthened their bond. “It really helped to have a purpose and have this project together. It made us feel reassured that we’re doing something cool and we were allowed to be ourselves.”

As the band found themselves migrating from headline to headline, they became accustomed to facing off gossip together. Ask them about the cocaine-meets- Eurovision moment and they all laugh, sharing familiar smiles with each other. “We were already so successful in Italy so we got kind of used to hearing speculation about us,” Ethan shrugs. “The huge Eurovision blowout was a good moment of our lives because we were all at a point of growing and personality building.”

But the speculation didn’t just stop there. The questions of drugs subsided and talk about sexuality quickly rose to the fore. At the time, a quick internet search of Måneskin’s name would lead to autofills poking questions at everything to boyfriends, girlfriends, and identity labels. “We’re not very touched by these kinds of comments. We all are very sure of what we are and how we want to show it,” Ethan responds. Although the band were quickly dismissive of the online talk, a bigger lesson loomed, frontman Damiano David reveals. “In Italy, we did not discover that there’s more than one sexuality until we got to use social media. Just like everybody else, I was [use terms] ‘straight’ or ‘gay’,” he candidly shares. Since then, the vocalist admits he’s taking on “more knowledge” to better himself as an ally — “I’m fully straight but this doesn’t stop me from being an ally. I’m on the side that has to learn new things.”

The band’s public discussion of identity has been one they’ve decidedly kept close to their chest, until now. “We understand people can get very affected by [speculation] because they’re making themselves sure of what they are and how to express [themselves] to their parents or to their friends,” Ethan empathises. As a member who has faced the brunt of opinion, the drummer pauses, choosing his words carefully: “[Trying] to guess people’s sexualities is one of the worst things to do — it’s very bad.”

A time that was particularly testing for the band was when Måneskin’s provocative Want To Be Your Slave music video hit the internet. A visual centred on sexual liberation and self-expression, the band quickly faced questions on their aesthetic and affiliation to queerness. “People are curious about it because it’s been quite a taboo topic for many years, it’s something now that other people are so interested in, not only with celebrities, but just generally with everyone,” Victoria says. She recalls times in high school where similar-aged teenagers would guess whether an effeminate boy is gay or not. “Like, who the fuck cares?!” she huffs. “People are really interested in the private lives of the artists. They look it up because it makes them feel like they know you better or it’s just to gossip or break a scandal.”

A brief pause falls over the band and Damiano shakes his head, prepping an answer: “I think it’s easier. It’s just not that complicated. When you get famous, people just want to know who you’re fucking. It’s just sick curiosity.” The inner-band debate strikes up again as Ethan proposes the media curiosity is fuelled by a misdirected want for knowledge and understanding.

While this is one the few times the band disagree, they respectfully onboard one another’s opinions as they take stock of the bigger conversation. The root of animated discussion breaks open as the members begin to turn the question inward. “I don’t really know how to identify. In the past years, I’ve been identifying as bi, but, lately, I’m having no interest in boys. I’m discovering [my identity is] developing,” Victoria says, her striped brown tie falling forwards. “I like some girls and then it changes to ‘okay, I almost don’t like any boys at all’. It is something constantly… It’s lesbian but also Harry Styles.” Damiano cracks up with laughter and Ethan quips that the former One Direction star is christened “the chosen one”. Circling back to her line of thought, the bassist proves she’s hardcore with her closing line — “It’s just who you are and you can really express yourself and I think this is like what matters the most and what we think is real rock and roll and freedom.”

Måneskin are no strangers to taking a stand. If you ask us, it looks like they love causing a bit of a stir. Mid-last year, the band, once again, caught headlines after Damiano and Thomas shared an unplanned kiss on stage at the Polsat SuperHit Festival. The band vividly recalls fans sharing the impact their music had on them. “When you get there and see how you can help thousands of people, it really makes you understand the difference you can have in that moment,” Victoria reflects. The group’s commitment to ensuring freedom of expression is larger than a few lyrics in a song – it feeds into their interviews and on-stage actions too.

“Being part of this generation it’s hard. It’s useful to take some strong positions on topics, because we need some strong actions. We’re just trying to do our part,” Thomas elaborates, explaining Måneskin’s move to be controversial every now and then. “We also try to improve ourselves every day. But at least you can try to find and to look for the right thing to do.” Lead singer Damiano backs up the decision to use their platform to back political causes. “If you have the courage to speak up about things, I think it’s very, very helpful,” he says earnestly. “We have to be able to understand when it’s better for us to take a step back and let those really affected people talk about it, because we are just allies and we’re not getting discriminated against, but we can try to be empathetic and use our voice and our power to help everybody.”

The four-piece have chalked up a reputation for being unpredictable and stylishly outrageous, but this consensus doesn’t sway the young band. If anything, their years in the on-screen media pipeline has taught them how to utilise the spotlight. It doesn’t matter whether they’re discussing music, tours or politics, the band inevitably comes back to the value of being authentic for their fans (“We just feel very close to them,” Victoria says protectively.) At the centre of their overlapping comments on friendship and frenzied life changes, Måneskin are humbly aware of how their fanbase supports them. The bassist continues, saying it’s important to create a place where everyone can be who they want. Pausing, she periodically slips into Italian, asking her bandmates to translate a term.

“It’s obvious everyone wants to be free for who they really are. In my experience, at first, I was so concerned and worried ‘who am I if I do this’ or that I’m something else or that I’m changing, but it’s [best] to not be worried about these things,” she says passionately. “We want to create with our fans and to put everyone in this healthy environment. And doing this really gives strength to young people or people who are in more oppressed situations to have courage to see that it’s okay.”

There’s no doubt Måneskin have distilled their lived lessons into this new record to create a rock and roll oasis. From beat-thumping inductions to media gossip to tongue-in-cheek comments on becoming the “kool kids”, the monstrous, hardcore noise of RUSH! has it all. “For me, it is a very personal record. It tells the story of how I came to discover myself and what I want to be as a person and as an artist,” Damiano explains. “All this frenzy led me to look inside myself, somehow I felt free to express a part of me that I had kept more hidden.”

The album is a chaotic amalgamation of crushing guitar riffs, full-throttle lyrics, and sonorous vocals sways through lines of Italian and English. Måneskin’s charge forward with spluttering drums, cranked up instrumentation, with songs pouring their original larger-than-life stamp into their broad rock productions. At their height, the band’s best tracks (La Fine, Gossip ft Tom Morello, Kool Kids) ignite like a blazing stage sign giving direction to Måneskin’s inevitable rise as one of today’s spirited rock acts.

An evolution from their gutsy sophomore studio release, Teatro d’ira: Vol. I, new album RUSH! captures the spark of each member. “Each of us had the freedom to follow our own personal direction. This time we didn’t look for the synthesis, the lowest common denominator between our different personalities, but we kind of added them up, exalted them all to the same level, and despite everything I think we still retained our identity,” Victoria shares.

With that, the band did not shy away from splurging on animated guitar hooks or fret over going too heavy with the familiar political zing of their rock tunes. Victoria adds: “We live in the concern of a progressive loss of people’s rights and we are afraid that this common thought is growing. In the track La Fine we refer precisely to this thought. Our music wants to be free and genderless. The goal is that people can identify with our message without having any definition of gender or category.”

After months of mania and unrelenting bouts of success, Måneskin are eagerly positioned to take on what’s next. And with a sold out arena in London already on the cards, it won’t be long before they’re greeting roaring fans once more. But, for now, as they savour the release of RUSH!, the band have found renewed strength in their amped up sound. “We have found our synthesis in diversity. This record is a point of pride and artistic growth for us,” Damiano reaffirms. And in a lesson learned by all, Victoria shares a final note of uplifting advice: “Never be afraid to express yourself. Always be free!”

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH

PHOTOGRAPHY BY FABIO GERMINARIO

#måneskin #maneskin #article #interview #january 2023 #my posts 💫 #gay times magazine

[needcake]

@hetaberia-week

Day 2: summer

.

.

1544,

Lisbon

It was the end of summer and the branches of the trees lining the sides of the roads connecting their countries were heavy with fruit, the air warm and sweet as Spain rode at top speed through Badajoz and into Elvas, gripping the reigns tight and kicking back his horses’ sides to make him go even faster, ignoring the locals’ surprised and judgmental stares.

By the time he came into Lisbon the sun was hot and burning above him and there was a pang of hunger hollowing his stomach. He would deal with it later, the letter he brought with him from Madrid safely secured inside his doublet and he left his horse at the royal stables before climbing up the stairs of the Ribeira Palace two steps at a time, the guards opening the doors for their ally without question.

He looked around the antechamber while he waited, the palace’s high ceilings decorated with paintings of angels and saints, white and blue tiles depicting historical victories in battles long fought when Portugal had first ventured out into the north of Africa. Spain knew the stories, everyone knew the stories. No one knew exactly how Portugal had accomplished such deeds, but they had all heard about them. The long sieges, battles that went long into the night, city walls that crumbled under Portuguese cannons. Civilization conquering barbarism.

“It’s unlike you to come unannounced,” Portugal said as he came to greet him, and Spain spun on his axis to see him come into the antechamber, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I received a letter from a mutual acquaintance,” Spain answered in lieu of explanation, reaching into his pocket for the folded paper with the English seal, Portugal’s eyebrows furrowing further as he extended it to him. “I would like your opinion on it.”

Portugal’s eyes moved swiftly over the pages, his frown turning into amusement as he read, lips pressing together to hold in laughter, and Spain almost regretted coming to him in the first place if Portugal hadn’t looked up at him and asked, in the most serene of tones:

“Have you eaten yet?”

-

“England is a jerk,” Spain complained sullenly, slouched on the couch of Portugal’s private quarters after a full and hearty meal, watching him lay out cards on a low table while sitting cross-legged from it, playing a hard game of solitaire against himself. “I told him I wanted to end the war against France, I finally had France agree to back me up on the church reform project I told you about, he finally agreed to break his alliance with the Ottomans—” Portugal grunted loudly, laying a queen of hearts on top of a king of clubs, “—but if England doesn’t stop hostilities against France and Scotland in the north it’ll be all for naught!”

Portugal listened, but didn’t comment, turning three cards from the pile and frowning at his game. Spain threw an arm melodramatically over his face.

“I don’t know how you can stand England,” he groaned with a pout, “He’s a bully and his breath stinks and his King is an idiot,” Spain mumbled, but Portugal merely hummed from his spot on the floor, continuing to stack cards on the table.

“He makes me laugh,” he said quietly, still too engrossed in his game to see the way Spain peeked at him from under his arm.

He huffed in mild disbelief. He found nothing funny about England. The air that came in through the open windows was warm, the afternoon sun glowing gold on the horizon with the end of summer.

“When is your next trip?” Spain asked, peeking at him again.

Portugal’s lips moved worriedly from side to side, searching for a card until he finally spotted a jack of spades and placed it on top of his queen of hearts. “I have to be in Japan in four months.”

“Can I come with you?” he piped up excitedly, lifting himself up from the couch on his elbows, looking at Portugal pleadingly. “I haven’t been out of Europe in years.”

But Portugal merely gave him a reproachful look before turning his eyes back down. “We agreed you’d stay on your side of the line,” he said before going back to his game, and Spain let his body fall back down with a defeated groan.

“I’m starting to think you’re a bully too,” he told him demurely.

Portugal snorted. He snorted, but didn’t disagree.

#hetaberia 2023 #hetalia #hws portugal #hws spain #a wild fic appears

[posttexasstressdisorder]

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Why has America tolerated 6 illegitimate Republican presidents?

Thom Hartmann

April 15, 2024 9:11AM ET

"Ronald and Nancy Reagan, 1964” image showing The Reagans aboard an unidentified boat in this 1964 photo released on June 1, 2016. Courtesy The Ronald Reagan Presidential Foundation/Handout via REUTERS

As we watch the Trump campaign prepare to replace 50,000 civil servants with fascist toadies if he wins the White House, it’s important to remember that Dwight Eisenhower was the last Republican president who believed in democracy, the rule of law, and that government should prioritize what the people want.

From 1960 to today a series of leaders within the Republican Party have abandoned the democracy that American soldiers fought the Revolutionary War to secure, the Civil War to defend here at home, and World War II in Europe and the Pacific to defend around the world.

This has brought us a series of criminal Republican presidents and corrupt Republican Supreme Court justices, who’ve legalized political bribery while devastating voting and civil rights.

None of this was a mistake or an accident, because none of these people truly believed in democracy.

This rejection of democracy and turn toward criminality and it’s logical end-point, fascism, started in the modern GOP with Richard Nixon.

He took millions in now-well-documented bribes both while Vice President to Eisenhower and as President (his VP, Spiro Agnew, resigned rather than go to prison for taking bribes). Nixon saw public service as a way to bathe himself in money, power, and adulation.

He didn’t care a bit about democracy.

As Lamar Waldron and I point out in detail in Legacy of Secrecy: The Long Shadow of the JFK Assassination, then-President Eisenhower’s then-Vice President, Richard Nixon, was getting beat up badly in the 1960 election by his opponent, Senator John F. Kennedy.

Most of it had to do with Cuba, where mobsters affiliated with Nixon for decades had just lost fortunes, millions and millions of dollars in annual revenue.

After the Cuban revolution of 1959, Castro came to the US to seek military and economic aid for his island nation; Eisenhower left town, forcing Castro to meet instead with VP Nixon.

Given that Castro had just overthrown the dictator Batista, a friend of both Nixon and Nixon’s mafia patrons, the Vice President essentially blew off Castro, sending him into the welcoming arms of Nikita Khrushchev’s Soviet Union.

Thus, throughout the 1960 presidential race, Senator Kennedy pounded on Vice President Nixon for having “let Cuba go communist” on his watch. In response, Vice President Nixon put together a series of CIA and Mafia plots to assassinate Castro, timed to happen before the November 1960 election.

His hope was that if the Eisenhower/Nixon administration could be seen as having successfully overthrown Castro in 1960 it would de-fang JFK’s attacks and make Nixon — who Eisenhower had put in charge of Cuba policy — a national hero just in time for the election.

Nixon figured that would be enough to help him beat JFK at the polls. It was going to be his “October Surprise.” (The remnant of this scheme was the failed Bay of Pigs invasion.)

For Nixon democracy was just an inconvenience, an obstacle to be conquered. He never really believed in it.

You can imagine Nixon’s frustration when plot after plot was bungled or foiled and, by election day, Castro was still happily ensconced in the Havana presidential palace. This appears to be the moment Nixon decided that, if he had a chance to run for president again, he’d not just consider a CIA-Mafia plot but would embrace far more extreme measures.

Thus began the first Republican plot to commit full-out treason to win a presidential election.

It started in the summer of 1968, when President Lyndon Johnson was desperately trying to end the Vietnam war. It had turned into both a personal and political nightmare for him, and his vice president, Hubert Humphrey, was running for President in the election that year against a “reinvented” Richard Nixon.

Johnson spent most of late 1967 and early 1968 working back-channels to North and South Vietnam, and by the summer of 1968 had a tentative agreement from both for what promised to be a lasting peace deal they’d both sign that fall.

But Richard Nixon knew that if he could block that peace deal, it would kill VP Hubert Humphrey’s chances of winning the 1968 election. So, Nixon sent envoys from his campaign to talk to South Vietnamese leaders to encourage them not to attend upcoming peace talks in Paris.

The bribe was straightforward: Nixon promised South Vietnam’s corrupt politicians that he’d give them a richer deal when he was President than LBJ could give them then.

The FBI had been wiretapping these international communications and told LBJ about Nixon’s effort to prolong the Vietnam War. Thus, just three days before the 1968 election, President Johnson phoned the Republican Senate leader, Everett Dirksen, (you can listen to the entire conversation here):

President Johnson: “Some of our folks, including some of the old China lobby, are going to the Vietnamese embassy and saying please notify the [South Vietnamese] president that if he’ll hold out ’til November 2nd they could get a better deal. Now, I’m reading their hand. I don’t want to get this in the campaign. And they oughtn’t to be doin’ this, Everett. This is treason.” Sen. Dirksen: “I know.”

Those tapes were only released by the LBJ library in the past decade, and that’s Richard Nixon who Lyndon Johnson was accusing of treason.

At that point, for President Johnson, it was no longer about getting Humphrey elected. By then Nixon’s plan had already worked and Humphrey was way down in the polls because the war was ongoing.

Instead, Johnson was desperately trying to salvage the peace talks to stop the death and carnage as soon as possible. He literally couldn’t sleep.

In a phone call to Nixon himself just before the election, LBJ begged him to stop sabotaging the peace process, noting that he was almost certainly going to win the election and inherit the war anyway. Instead, Nixon publicly announced that LBJ’s efforts were “in shambles.”

But South Vietnam had taken Nixon’s deal and boycotted the peace talks, the war continued, and Nixon won the White House thanks to it.

An additional twenty-two thousand American soldiers, and an additional million-plus Vietnamese died because of Nixon’s 1968 treason, and he left it to Jerry Ford to end the war and evacuate the American soldiers.

Nixon appointed Harry Blackmun, Lewis Powell, and William Rehnquist to the Supreme Court, pushing it hard to the right and setting up the predecessors of Citizens United.

Rehnquist, we later learned, didn’t believe any more in democracy than did Nixon. He’d made his chops in the GOP with Operation Eagle Eye, standing outside polling places in Hispanic and Native American precincts in Arizona challenging every voter who showed up there’s right to cast a ballot.

Nixon was never held to account for that treason, and when the LBJ library released the tapes and documentation long after his and LBJ’s deaths it was barely noticed by the American press.

Gerald Ford, who succeeded Nixon, was never elected to the White House (he was appointed to replace VP Spiro Agnew, after Agnew was indicted for decades of taking bribes), and thus would never have been President had it not been for Richard Nixon’s treason.

Ford pardoned Nixon and appointed John Paul Stevens to the Supreme Court.

Next up was Ronald Reagan. He not only didn’t believe in democracy, he didn’t even believe in the American government.

Like Trump, he ridiculed public service like joining the military or getting a job with a government agency; he joked that there were no smart or competent people in government because if there had been, private industry would have already hired them away.

So, if you don’t believe in democracy and you think the US government is a joke, it’s not a big deal to betray your country to get the wealth, power, and fame that goes with the presidency.

During the Carter/Reagan election battle of 1980, then-President Carter had reached a deal with newly-elected Iranian President Abdolhassan Bani-Sadr to release the fifty-two hostages held by students at the American Embassy in Tehran.

Bani-Sadr was a moderate and, as he explained in an editorial for The Christian Science Monitor, successfully ran for President that summer on the popular position of releasing the hostages:

“I openly opposed the hostage-taking throughout the election campaign…. I won the election with over 76 percent of the vote…. Other candidates also were openly against hostage-taking, and overall, 96 percent of votes in that election were given to candidates who were against it [hostage-taking].”

Carter was confident that with Bani-Sadr’s help, he could end the embarrassing hostage crisis that had been a thorn in his political side ever since it began in November of 1979.

But, like Nixon, behind Carter’s back the Reagan campaign worked out a deal with the head of Iran’s radical faction — Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khomeini — to keep the hostages in captivity until after the 1980 Presidential election. Khomeini needed spare parts for American weapons systems the Shah had purchased for Iran, and the Reagan campaign was happy to promise them.

This was the second act of treason by a Republican wanting to become president.

The Reagan campaign’s secret negotiations with Khomeini — the so-called 1980 “Iran/Contra Scandal” — sabotaged President Carter’s and Iranian President Bani-Sadr’s attempts to free the hostages. As President Bani-Sadr told The Christian Science Monitor in March of 2013:

“After arriving in France [in 1981], I told a BBC reporter that I had left Iran to expose the symbiotic relationship between Khomeinism and Reaganism.

“Ayatollah Khomeini and Ronald Reagan had organized a clandestine negotiation, later known as the ‘October Surprise,’ which prevented the attempts by myself and then-US President Jimmy Carter to free the hostages before the 1980 US presidential election took place. The fact that they were not released tipped the results of the election in favor of Reagan.”

And Reagan’s treason — just like Nixon’s treason — worked perfectly, putting a third Republican president in office after Nixon and Ford. Neither Nixon nor Reagan believed in or held up democracy and the rule of law that underpins it as a value.

The Iran hostage crisis continued and torpedoed Jimmy Carter’s re-election hopes. And the same day Reagan took the oath of office — to the minute, as Reagan put his hand on the bible, by way of Iran’s acknowledging the deal — the American hostages in Iran were released.

Keeping his side of the deal, Reagan began selling the Iranians weapons and spare parts in 1981 (and using the money to illegally fund rightwing neofascist death squad “Contras” in Nicaragua) and continued until he was busted for it in 1986, producing the so-called “Iran Contra” scandal.

Reagan appointed Sandra Day O’Connor, Antonin Scalia, and Anthony Kennedy to the Supreme Court, solidifying its rightwing tilt. We’d learn, in the Bush v Gore case in 2000 when they awarded the White House to the son of Reagan’s VP, that none of the three of them valued democracy.

And, like Nixon, Reagan was never held to account for the criminal and treasonous actions that brought him to office.

After Reagan, Bush senior was elected but, like Jerry Ford, Bush was only President because he’d served as Vice President under Reagan. And, of course, the naked racism of his Willie Horton ads helped keep him in office.

The criminal investigation into Iran/Contra came to a head with independent prosecutor Lawrence Walsh subpoenaing President George HW Bush after having already obtained convictions for Weinberger, Ollie North and others.

For the first time in history, the President of the United States could go to jail for criminal conspiracy. Bush was sweating.

George HW Bush’s attorney general, Bill Barr (yes, the same guy Trump hired), suggested he pardon all six co-conspirators — who could point a finger at Bush — to kill the investigation. Bush did it on Christmas Eve, hoping to avoid the news cycle because of the holiday.

Nonetheless, the screaming headline across the New York Times front page on December 25, 1992, said it all: “THE PARDONS: BUSH PARDONS 6 IN IRAN AFFAIR, ABORTING A WEINBERGER TRIAL; PROSECUTOR ASSAILS 'COVER-UP’”

If the October Surprise hadn’t hoodwinked voters in 1980, you can bet Bush senior would never have been elected in 1988.

That’s four illegitimate Republican presidents.

President GHW Bush appointed Clarence Thomas and David Souter to the Supreme Court. We learned quickly that Thomas doesn’t value democracy. We now know his wife actively worked to subvert it, in fact.

Which brings us to George W. Bush, the man who was given the White House by five Republican-appointed justices on the Supreme Court.

In the Bush v. Gore Supreme Court decision in 2000 that stopped the Florida recount and thus handed George W. Bush the presidency, Justice Antonin Scalia (appointed by Bush’s father’s boss) wrote in his opinion:

“The counting of votes … does in my view threaten irreparable harm to petitioner [George W. Bush], and to the country, by casting a cloud upon what he [Bush] claims to be the legitimacy of his election.”

Apparently, denying the presidency to Al Gore, the guy who actually won the most votes in Florida and won the popular vote nationwide by over a half-million, did not constitute “irreparable harm” to Scalia or the media.

And apparently it wasn’t important that Scalia’s son worked for a law firm that was defending George W. Bush before the high court (with no Scalia recusal).

Just like it wasn’t important that Justice Clarence Thomas’s wife worked on the Bush transition team — before the Supreme Court shut down the recount in Florida — and was busy accepting resumes from people who would serve in the Bush White House if her husband stopped the recount in Florida…which he did. There was no Thomas recusal, either.

None of them believed in democracy.

More than a year after the election a consortium of newspapers including The Washington Post, The New York Times, and USA Today did their own recount of the vote in Florida — manually counting every vote in a process that took almost a year — and concluded that Al Gore did indeed win the presidency in 2000.

As the November 12th, 2001 article in The New York Times read:

“If all the ballots had been reviewed under any of seven single standards and combined with the results of an examination of overvotes, Mr. Gore would have won.”

That little bit of info was slipped into the seventeenth paragraph of the Times story so that it would attract as little attention as possible, because the 9/11 attacks had happened just weeks earlier and the publishers of the big newspapers feared that burdening Americans with the plain truth that George W. Bush lost the election would further hurt a nation already in crisis.

To compound the crime, Bush could only have gotten as close to Gore in the election as he did because his brother, Florida Governor Jeb Bush, had ordered his Secretary of State, Kathrine Harris, to purge at least 57,000 mostly-Black voters from the state’s voter rolls just before the election.

Tens of thousands of African Americans showed up to vote and were turned away from the polls in that election in Florida. BBC covered it extensively, although the American media didn’t seem interested.

So, for the third time in 4 decades, Republicans took the White House under illegitimate electoral circumstances. Even President Carter was shocked by the brazenness of that one. And Jeb Bush and the GOP were never held to account for that crime against democracy.*

President George W. Bush appointed Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court. Alito not only doesn’t believe in democracy, he also doesn’t believe in a woman’s right to get an abortion. He’d put a judge like himself between a woman and her doctor, with a police officer and a prison to enforce his decree.

Most recently, in 2016, Trump ally Kris Kobach and Republican Secretaries of State across the nation used Interstate Crosscheck to purge millions of legitimate voters — most people of color — from the voting rolls just in time for the Clinton/Trump election.

Meanwhile, Russian oligarchs and the Russian state, and possibly pro-Trump groups or nations in the Middle East, funded a widespread program to flood social media with pro-Trump, anti-Clinton messages from accounts posing as Americans, as documented by Robert Mueller’s investigation.

And on top of that, we learned in 2020 that Republican campaign data on the 2016 election, including which states needed a little help via phony influencers on Facebook and other social media, was not only given to Russian spy and oligarch Konstantin Kilimnik by Trump’s campaign manager Paul Manafort, but Kilimnik transferred it to Russian intelligence.

Even with all that treasonous help from Russia, Donald Trump still lost the national vote by nearly 3 million votes but came to power in 2016 through the electoral college, an artifact of the Founding era designed to keep slavery safe in colonial America.**

And then, in 2021, after losing to Joe Biden by 7 million votes, Trump mounted a seditious effort to overturn the election he’d just lost.

Trump didn’t believe in democracy in the least; he openly fawned over autocratic and fascistic states and their leaders.

After Mitch McConnell and Senate Republicans blocked President Obama’s nomination of Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court, President Donald Trump filled Garland’s spot with Neil Gorsuch, the son of Reagan’s disgraced former EPA administrator, Anne Gorsuch.

For reasons that are still unclear, shortly after Trump mentioned Kennedy’s son to him publicly at the Gorsuch ceremony, Justice Kennedy decided to resign. Whether it had anything to do with young Justin Kennedy — then working at Deutsche Bank and having signed off on over a billion dollars in corrupt loans to Trump — is still unknown, and Kennedy, still in good health, isn’t talking.

Kennedy was replaced by “Blackout” Brett Kavanaugh, who had previously worked in the Bush White House. Republicans refused to turn over 95 percent of Kavanaugh’s papers to the Senate Judiciary Committee and jammed through his nomination after an epic meltdown on live television.

When Ruth Bader Ginsberg died just before the 2020 election, McConnell decided his “Garland Rule” was irrelevant and jammed through Trump’s nomination of Amy Coney Barrett in about six weeks; she was sworn in on October 27, 2020. When Democrats raised questions about Barrett’s role as a “Handmaid” (what she called herself) in a bizarre Catholic cult they were brushed aside.

Trump appointed Neil Gorsuch, Brett Kavanuagh, and Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court. We now know none of the three of them believe in democracy, either.

Fifty-four years of Republican presidents using treason to achieve the White House (or inheriting it from one who did) has transformed America and dramatically weakened our democracy.

Those presidents have contributed their own damages to the rule of law and democracy in America, but their cynical Supreme Court appointments have arguably done the most lasting damage.

Republican appointees on the Court during this time have gutted the Civil Rights Act, the Voting Rights Act, union rights, the Affordable Care Act, and legalized Republican voter purges. They legalized the bribery of politicians by billionaires and corporations.

In short, they’ve done everything they can to weaken democracy and enforce minority rule in America.

One of their wives appears to have been involved in the January 6th attempted overthrow of our electoral process and thus our republic. Republican justices and judges openly flaunt the judicial code of ethics and routinely hand decisions to the GOP’s largest donors.

Today’s fascistic behavior by elected Republicans and their appointees on the courts has a long history, deeply rooted in multiple acts of treachery and treason. “Power at any cost” has been their slogan ever since Nixon’s attempts to assassinate Castro in 1960 to beat JFK in that year’s election.

Democracy? They laugh.

Which is why it’s time to call the Republican Party what it is: a criminal enterprise embracing fascism to hang onto power, a threat to our republic, and a danger to all life on Earth.

*For more detail, this is extensively documented and footnoted in my book The Hidden History of the Supreme Court and the Betrayal of America.

**This is covered in depth in my book The Hidden History of the War On Voting.

[estbela]

@moonstone-vibe

Wellllll...I do have some thoughts about them(since I think that's what you're asking?) but theyre all very rambley and subject to change as I learn more etc etc etc (and this period of history is not one I'm very familiar with, I know a basic summary of stuff and some specific events, but not everything).

Alright, since we have gotten the (really long) disclaimer out of the way, I'm gonna ramble on a bit about these thoughts of mine.

(This took so much to write i stg)

anyway!

I think they met during the 14th century, the late 14th century to be precise, while the Ottoman Empire was expanding through Europe.

Apparently the first confrontation they had was during the rule of Vladislav I , a ruler of Wallachia, who was allied at the time with Ivan Shishman , the emperor of the Bulgaria in Tarnovo, who was not doing very well at the time btw, partly because of the Ottoman Empire lol.

Bulgaria is gonna be mentioned a lot during this, I fear, because I think he does play some role in their dynamic.

Ro, or well as he would have been called at the time, Wallachia, had been part of the Second Bulgarian Empire for a pretty long time, though eventually gaining more and more autonomy, and sort of becoming a vassal state of sorts for a time(basically still kinda being part of Bulgaria, but nominally really), still having to pay tribute to Bul tho. (Also for some time Hungary & Bul basically had a dispute over some part of Wallachia, but as Hungary was weakening due to Mongol attacks, it paved the way to Wallachia being established)

Although that's not important and Im kinda getting sidetracked. Anyway Wallachia does kinda get it's independence, altho it's more like Bul not being able to control it anymore due to the weakening of his empire (before becoming a vassal of the Otttoman Empire, which we'll get to shortly!)

I think they heard of eachoter before meeting, thought. Probably good and bad things, but mostly bad. For Wallachia, Ottoman was the guy that was going around conquering the lands of his friends, including Bulgaria & Serbia, and she...was not really happy about this, obviously. He was actually often allied with Bul, to fight him off(altho not always, relationships between Bul & Wallachia were not always good). For the Ottoman Empire, Wallachia was a thorn in his plans, Bulgaria's even more annoying other half.

Similar to the Byzantine Empire, the Ottoman Empire considered itself the successor to Ancient Rome, which really annoyed Wallachia, because he really didn't want to deal with another annoying guy who considered himself as great as the Roman Empire (Wallachia did not have a good relationship with the Eastern Roman Empire, but he would pick him over the Ottoman Empire surely).

And so, Ro did not see Ottoman as anything other than another empire trying to claim the glory of Rome, that would probably not last very long until the next one came. Simply a flicker in mankind's history. He had done and seen this before many times, just another nation that would try to claim her land and people. He was not scared of him, didn't feel much for him besides annoyance at first.

But I do think, over the years, they gained some respect for eachoter, for their skills in battle and outside of that.

Also annoyance eventually turned into anger at him, because how dare he take his friends away from him and hurt them! How dare he take Wallachia's independence away, too!

And so he became even more annoying. His plans were basically to not make it worthwhile to conquer his lands, to make the cost of a battle unjustifiable.

And they did fight, but Wallachia always somehow managed to keep being a vassal state, part of the reason because he was a buffer zone for a lot of european powers and stuff.

And like...I think this fighting of theirs became some sort of "dance" for them, something they were used to. Their own game of chess, if you will. Turk would make a move, then Ro, and it kept going, none of them ever truly changing the status quo, Wallachia remaining a vassal but never truly part of the Ottoman Empire, always slightly out of reach, never his.

It probably drove Turkey a little mad, but he also kinda liked it. I think when they weren't enemies they could get along pretty great, but both of them would rather eat knives than admit that (especially Ro :]]] )

I'll be honest, i think there were moments when Wallachia scared the crap out of Turkey, not that he'd admit it, of course, but little Ro could be really creepy.

The Ottoman Empire didn't scare Ro much, more like the reminder of what he could do to Ro and his loved ones(and what he already did) scared her, and his people also. Specifically that if Wallachia wasn't careful, the little freedom & independence he has could be taken away.

So Wallachia when he'd interact with him during times of peace ig, would always be careful to not actually get attached to the guy, constantly reminding herself of what he could be like. He always treaded lightly around him. Constantly telling herself that he's the enemy!!!

As time went on however, their relations got more...tense then they already were. Wallachia wanted independence and later a union with Moldavia and the Ottoman Empire did not want this to happen.

And of course, I ought to mention the Phanariots. God, save for maybe a few of them, Wallachia hated them so much! And sometimes it wasn't anything they did, it was more that they weren't his own people, and paying to get to rule over him and his people and lands. Definitely not happy about this was he.

Anyway eventually the whole thing happens when Moldavia & Wallachia elect the same guy (Alexandru Ioan Cuza) yada yada yada they unite and Turkey is probably not really happy (random, but apparently Austria was actually the main opposer of this while Prussia supported the union, and really not happy but was caught in the austro-prussian war do couldn't do much about it.)

And eventually Romania gains his independence, fighting alongside the Russian Empire, Bulgaria, and also Serbia & Montenegro I think? Anyway Romania gets her independence, and he & the Ottoman Empire are on pretty bad terms.

But after Romania became independent; things actually, slowly, started to improve between the two. They became...friends of a sort. Although they both wouldn't admit it obviously, they are fond od eachoter. They probably even look fondly back on some of their memories and shit.

But they don't have the best relationship either. That perhaps, there is still some resentment and hurt there, just a little, that neither is keen on adressing ever.

Anyway I don't particulary see them as romantic but I can imagine Ro getting probably mad at Bulgaria or something, feeling hurt and probably flirting with Turkey to piss him off.

I can see Ro kissing Turkey but like, to surprise him in order to fight him or something. Kiss him then surprise punch him while he's trying to process it haha.

Also I basically have my physical age headcanons written for Ro here but I basically see Turkey as being always a few years older than Ro historically, like 2, or 3 at most? (which is probably way younger than in canon, but then again, canon is dead and we do what we want.) I see Turkey as being in modern times in his mid to late 20s, at most, early 30s (I see him being called an "old man" but he doesn't look that old to me AT ALL so I'm really confused, plus it wouldn't make sense for him to be way older than the main cast for a lot of reasons etc etc. But maybe it's just me idk)

So yeah, I don't see turkro romantically, I guess? Nonetheless they have the potential of a very interesting and fun(and perhaps a little fucked up :] ) dynamic. Perhaps a little romance here and there, maybe in the current era, but they'd both have to go through a lot of character development for that :]]]

These days, they probably hang out sometimes, do stupid shit together, and actually have a really fun time. They probably recall some of their more fun memories, talk about the times they won in a conflict with the other, argue about something then get drunk and laugh with eachoter.

also a lot of these things also apply to my Moldavia OC and her relationship with Turkey, altho not all cause her personality is different from Romania's obviously.

#just talking recreationally #hetalia #romania #Turkey #Aph #Hws #Turkro #I was gonna write more but apparently I hit some sort of word limit or whatever???? #My brother in christ I dunno how I did that but well I did it!! #Anyway to me theyre more like a brotp of sorts. Maybe idk. A little fucked up brotp #Moldavia #<- Cause I mentioned her #Wallachia

[frozcnhearts]

@diverse-hearts-ocs asked: “   don’t  beat  yourself  up  over  this .   be  kind  to  yourself ,   it’s  not  your  fault .   ” - Ella / Yejun

Idk anymore :D

It was beyond the second oldest brother, how such a sweet girl fell for his brother out of all people. Questions of the fact, if she even knew his real face conquered Yejun’s mind, not letting him go too quickly for sure. Eyes of bright, clear blue stared at Ella for a long time, as they both waited for Sehun to arrive again in this room. The light shining in from the windows somehow bothered him a little bit, it was way too sunny outside for his current mood. But his smile shall not waver. For he was known as the softest of them all, good in hiding all his inner demons and emotions. Even from his own siblings.

That was the way, he was raised.

“Pardon me, I guess I just overthought everything.”, Yejun responded to the blonde, his eyes swifting back from the windows to her, “Those years of not seeing my siblings taught me a lot, even if it wasn’t exactly willingly. Though, I wouldn’t have guessed that our own parents would just tell around that I’m… well, dead.”. This was indeed a bitter pill to swallow. Especially those two knew that he was in Europe the whole time. Very well alive, just dealing with the weak body of his.

Without saying a word, Yejun stood up and skipped over to Ella. His hand slowly reaching out, as he put thumb and index finger underneath her chin. Forcing her to look up at him. A smile was put on his lips. He leant closer to her, without their faces touching, as he took a closer look at her. “Well, I guess I can see the qualities he sees in you.”, he suddenly spoke with hushed voice,“But why would you marry a guy like Sehun? It’s so unfortunate, that he’s probably just playing a game with you - and you don’t even realize it.”.

Steps suddenly resounded from behind the closed door. Yejun quickly let go of the woman, while muttering quietly that she should think about his words. He sat back where he was, pretending like nothing ever happened the moment Sehun came back in, balancing three cups of hot chocolate with his two hands.

Yejun on the meantime, swallowed back the words that still lingered in the head of his back. The words, he could not speak out loudly for now. But he sure would one day be able to warn her.

You don't want to be part of this family. You don't want to be part of him. Run, before it's too late - and don't look back.

#{ Yejun Lee } #{ Yejun ( Main ): The deceased } #// OKAY WITH THIS I'M GONNA ROLL BACK INTO MY INBOX #// I suppose his main verse is the MM verse? LOL #// I just stared at his tags and was all - ahuh; you only have a main tag and a genshin tag; SO WHAT'S YOUR MAIN VERSE; BOY?! O:< #// Or well; in this case probably post-MM since it's where those two dorks are married already #diverseheartsocs #diverse-hearts-ocs

[naturalrights-retard]

Russian President Vladimir Putin unveiled the new strategic long-range Tu-160M nuclear-capable bomber on Thursday, in a move likely to be seen in the West as a pointed reminder of Moscow’s nuclear capabilities. This is a new giant swing-wing type plane, where the pilots posted on the side “MY POMPEII,” referring to the destruction of Vesuvius.  NATO has codenamed it “Blackjacks” but this bomber is what Russia would deploy in the event of nuclear war to deliver weapons at long distances.

What is very clear and acknowledged behind the curtain is that there has never been a time of worse relations between the world’s two biggest nuclear powers, including during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. The West appears to be led by mindless politicians who do as they are told by the Neocons for nobody is interested in any peace negotiations. Former Russian President Dmitry Medvedev, now deputy chairman of Russia’s Security Council, has repeatedly warned of the risk of a nuclear conflict with the West since 2014. That seems not to bother any Western leader, for the Neocons keep swearing that it is just scare tactics and that Russia will never resort to nuclear weapons even as NATO invades Moscow. Nobody in any leadership role even seems to have common sense.

The Neocon who also is always pushing for war is Fiona Hill. Politico asked: “What happens to the West if Putin wins?” She responded:

We’ll be at each others’ throats. There’ll be no way in which this is going to turn out well. There’ll be a lot of frustration on the part of people who thought that this was the easier option when we reel from crisis to crisis. There’ll also be the shame, frankly, and the disgrace of having let the Ukrainians down. I think it would create a firestorm of recrimination. And it will also embolden so many other actors to take their own steps.

NATO is a highly dangerous organization whose only purpose is war. They were created to defend against Communism. When Communism fell, they never changed their position and maintained that Russia still wanted to conquer Europe. Of course, if that is not true, then we no longer need NATO. They must keep up beating their war drums, or else they lose their purpose and revenue as members divert it elsewhere.

[spielcave]

My Idea for next mainline God of War (Kratos as lead)

Okay, overall spoilers ahead, this is your warning! This is more about what the core story could be rather than otherwise side character interactions. Basically, we shall call this, the 'Roman' Storyline

So following the events of the Valhalla DLC, you can have any amount of time go by.

Kratos is now the revered and celebrated God of War of the Norse Realms. He, Freya, and Mimir are on a council keeping peace, fighting monsters and villains that threaten that peace etc etc. Kratos is now at a point where he can really feel a semblance of peace. Atreus is still out in the world, likely visits on occasion. His relationships with Mimir and Freya are great support. He's thriving. His time in Greece weighs less on his mind as he's learned acceptance and now has the wisdom to maintain himself. Speaking of Greece and, later, Rome a small tidbit of info. As the Romans grew in size all over the Mediterranean and Europe, they did what was called 'religious syncretism'. When they conquered a place, instead of stomping down the local religions and forcing their ideas on the conquered, they would merge their gods into their beliefs. Hence why, when the Romans took Greece, Zeus became Jupiter, Ares became Mars, Hermes became Mercury, and Apollo... actually stayed Apollo. They just got renamed into their gods and adopted their aspects, which is why so much of it seems similar. So how about, Rome has solidified it's place and now seeks to go further north... north into Norway/Scandinavia. The Greek Gods have now have been recreated into the Roman Gods (method still thinking over) and Mars leads the armies north in search of conquest. I know Santa Monica has gone on record saying they wont do another Norse Game, but perhaps they dont have to. Essentially, Kratos is now fighting off these invaders, leading the counter offensive as the God of War. We get to see his development in action. Mimir is with him, and it's intense. Think about it, all this time we've had the discourse within pantheons in the games so far, how fuckin epic would it be if we have pantheon v. pantheon. Kratos is anti-Ares from GoW1, maybe he has soliders praying to him to destroy their enemies like he did all those years ago but doesn't make them into slaves and, instead, guides them to remember their humanity. Of course it leads to the obvious showdown between Mars and Kratos. Perhaps it's just reskinned Ares and he wants payback, or maybe it's Ares that's not.... complete, or at least understands why he wants to fight Kratos so much but it doesn't matter. In Valhalla we face Kratos' regrets, but the only God that gets lines and screen time is Helios, as a head. Here we get to see Kratos face down new versions of his original kill list. Jupiter, Minerva, Neptune, Pluto. Really face his mistakes, perhaps for the last time so he can really lay it all to rest. Maybe the game takes you back to Greece for a time, you get to explore Italy, different myths. And hell, maybe a Roman version of Kratos if we really want to go off the walls. Atreus def shows up near the midway of the game. Angroboda and Fenrir with him. And maybe, just maybe. As Kratos dismantles the Roman Pantheon as they don't give up, perhaps a plot point can be making sure there's something in their place so they aren't plunged into agony... Enter, Christianity. Now it would be a hell of a long ways away from the middle east (unless it takes us there for some reason) but i could see it as Kratos knowing what is at stake when he faces a pantheon. He can't leave the people in ruins all over again. He's God of War elsewhere, he can't do it. Hell it can even be a conflict that Kratos has pushed the enemy far back but doesn't want all out counter invasion, but the soliders he leads, everyone around him, knows that they will just try again so it needs to be dealt with. Kratos tries peaceful route but it nearly kills him... OH! I got it, Kratos is at the walls of Rome, he sues for peace. He is tricked, mortally wounded, and tossed into the sea, ends up in the middle east and finds Jesus (literally) and they go from there. Literally figured that out as I typed. I know, it's just ramblings at this point but that's what I love about God of War, nothing crazy is off the table. Maybe it warrants it's own duology, trilogy if you really squeeze it.

#writers on tumblr #gow #god of war #gow ragnarok #kratos #mimir #atreus #roman #greek #christianity #mythology #mars #feel free to share any ideas you might have!

[aonoexpat]

05-11-2023 (3/3)

After getting Elrond back in working order, I said goodbye to Motueka (and a little baby Pīwakawaka who came to say goodbye back) and went on my way to Elaine Bay. I made a brief stop in Whakatū to get some groceries, and then drove down the road I mentioned in yesterday's post, which offered stunning views that were hard to photograph:

I had to fight not to get out of my car for photos at every turn. I spent the night there and in the morning I went back out to the water. The sun was shining brightly now and the water was just as clear as the night before, which meant I could see the fish, the starfish, and the absolutely massive stingrays I had been wise to avoid encountering in the dark last night:

I enjoyed the (still) lovely sunny weather by going on my last hike of the island: Pīwakawaka track, which led to a very peaceful little beach in about 45 minutes one way:

And despite my reluctance, after having lunch (cooking in Elrond for the last time) I had to get back on the road. I managed to take some more pretty pictures of the view:

I'll admit, I was very emotional during the hike and the drive. It really feels like the end of an era, and even though part of me never wants to leave, I feel like it's a good thing that it's ending. I have been alone for too long, and today I really felt that. Not only have I been physically alone, and dealing with a lot of stressful things, but this trip has also forced me out of my sociopolitical bubble and that has been unsettling to say the least. It has made me think a lot about what I find important, what home means to me, and how I want to live my life going forward. It's like I've stepped out of my comfort zone, and now have lost all sense of where it's supposed to be. I crave to go back, I'm homesick, but I know I've changed. I still am changing. I don't know what my comfort zone is supposed to look like anymore. I'm sure I'll find it again eventually, but that is a scary feeling. A feeling that makes me look forward to being hugged again, and having at least a little more normalcy and luxury than I have now. But that also makes it scary to step into a new chapter.

As I drove and listened to harmonious, pensive music, the clouds rolled in and it started raining. It didn't stop until about an hour ago. I still couldn't resist getting out of the car to take a photo at one of my trip's very first stops, Pelorus bridge:

I could almost see myself from four months ago right there, hanging out on the rocks and taking pictures. Feeling nervous and excited, the whole trip ahead of me. But also a lot less experienced, a lot more nervous about driving still, and in no way yet used to van life. I may still have so much to learn, but those things I feel like I well and truly have conquered, and I'm pretty proud of that.

I completed the way to Waitohi, recognising some stops along the way where I once stopped and took pictures and hiked. And then I finally made it to my first - and now also last - camping spot. I got myself some food, saw a familiar face (and told him how I remembered him, and he had made me feel welcome on my first day), and ate in Elrond while watching my favourite series. Now I'm just dreading the six minute walk to the closest public toilet, but I'll undertake that journey after finishing up all these posts!

Tomorrow I will take the boat back to Te Ikaroa, and hopefully get some rest. I'm already mentally preparing for the seasickness. I just hope the weather will stay dry now, and I can enjoy the views from the boat like I did last time!

For now, sweet dreams to Aotearoa, good afternoon to Europe. You'll hear from me again soon I hope!

#aotearoa #backpacking #van life

[official-oshun]

i think the thing that's hardest for jewish people who are trying to leave old ideas behind and become anti-zionist is that non-jewish ideas of anti-zionism generally range anywhere from enacting a ceasefire + putting a leftwing government in control of israel, to ending the occupation, to establishing an arab state with a jewish minority, to kicking out / killing / celebrating the deaths of israelis in order to dissolve the state "by any means necessary" (even if those jews were forced out of their previous homes in europe + the swana region and can't return easily nor want to).

it's like... what does anti-zionist even mean when you're look at the future? can we be anti-zionist and want to preserve israeli lives? im asking this genuinely and in 100% good faith. i really do want to hear your opinion.

ur right. ur 100% right, so many times leftist will be so antisemetic but "progressive" so they can't even see they are calling for jewish death. lots of jews in isreal had no homes to return to after ww2. factories, houses, farms, etc were occupied (stolen) or reduced to ash. having a safe space for jews is very important to me, especially considering how few there are of us compared to say muslims or christians. we deserve a safe and free space but israel is not providing that. in my dream world israel still exists, thought much smaller and it is a legitimate safe heaven for jews of all races. it is pushed back to its original boarders, or smaller, as designated by the UN and previous land that had been conquered is given back with monetary reparations given to the people of palestien, not only by israel but by the western countries that allowed this to happen. in my dream world it is a leftwing government that doesn't require military training for all adult civilians. in my dream world isreali people, regardless of if they are jewish or not, can feel safe and can activly cross boarders with their neighbors in a mostly friendly way. no country is ever going to best friends with all its neighbors, but i wish desperately for israel to demilitarize itself and help it's neighbor palestien flourish. there is money in our blood and each war time strife brings in major that most israeli's and no palestienans will ever see. it might be too idealistic but my anti-zionism is shrinking israel, funding palestien, and creating two nation states with friendly relations who can support themselves primarily. and for the record i don't support celebrating israeli civilian deaths, especially those who haven't even done heir military training. active soldiers I will celebrate accordingly to how they behaved (some missing / dead soldiers have posted and supported actual genocide so idgaf). but most soldiers I mainly will just ignore. there is no honor in dying like this, there is no honor in dying in war. this is my short answer (my long answer would require me exaplaining how western countries have helped spark this conflict even more so and how I think a lot of them namely the english and USAmerica owe palestien way more than the israeli government does.)

#ask tag #wow does this make sense or do i sound deranged? #i know i sound like a lofty gen z idiot but in my heart this is what i think even if it cant be achived #also im ngl random tumblr anon im mourning a family friend who died in gaza this past week so if israel imploded today i wouldnt gaf #but eventually i would get over my self and mourn the loss for a lot of jews because we are always the 2nd most hated group in the world #yeah israel shouldnt exist but it holds too much jewish life to remove it atp especially given how ppl think israel = jew #we need to first remove the idea that israel = all jews and that its the only way we can be safe. we can be safe elsewhere i know it #we always find a way we will always survive #somedays i wish we just found an island for ww2 victims and prosecuted jews to live on instead of the english stealing land “for us” #i firmly beleive it wouldnt matter if we were on the holy land or not #a lot of them just want a safe space but that doesnt give them a right to steal from our brothers

[talktomeinclexa]

The Iliad

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, Blood and Injury

Status: Complete (22/22)

Summary: Lexa, the best warrior that ever lived, and her cousin Anya accompany the Greek army on its way to Troy to recover Helen, queen of Sparta and Bellamy's wife, kidnapped by the Trojan prince Finn. Will the two lovers and their faithful Myrmidons be able to conquer the impregnable fortress, or will they succumb to fate and the blue eyes of a prisoner?

***

Prologue

The prince woke with a start, his reflection in the mirror across the room panting and looking at him with confused eyes.

Naked, the young man stood from the bed and walked to the nearby cabinet where a servant had placed a golden basin full of water for the night. Shivering despite the fire burning in his room, he submerged his hands and splashed cold water on his face to chase away the images of his last dream without success.

Finn, prince of Troy and son of the benevolent King Marcus, had seen himself herding cattle on Mount Ida, not far from the city. There, three superb women appeared before him and asked that he determine the most beautiful among them. Facing his hesitation, the women disrobed to show him all their attributes, and the prince thanked all the gods for the vision that burned itself in his mind. Still, he could not choose a winner, as the three goddesses were all stunning in their own way.

In an attempt to bribe him, the first one, a stern brunette with long brown hair and dark eyes, introduced herself as Hera, Zeus’s wife, and offered to make him king of all Europe and Asia. The second woman, Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war whose gray eyes stared deep into the prince’s soul, said she would make him the greatest and wisest warrior. The last one, Aphrodite, with her long blond hair and creamy skin, promised him the love of the most beautiful woman on earth: Helen of Sparta.

After careful consideration, the romantic prince made his choice with his heart, and he awarded the prize, an apple, to Aphrodite.

The dream had been most peculiar, so vivid that the young man could remember every single detail clearly, and it kept him awake for the rest of the night.

--

When morning came, Finn put on a woolen tunic and a himation1 with a hood to hide his identity and made his way to a small temple near the palace dedicated to Apollo. Once there, he purified himself and offered a sacrifice to the god before taking the priest to the side and telling him about his strange dream.

Confirming what the young prince had thought, the priest — an old man named Jaha with a gray beard and curly black hair — announced that it had been a vision sent by the Olympians themselves. By declaring Aphrodite the most beautiful of the three, Finn was in the goddess’s good graces. He did, however, give him a warning the woman born of the froth had forgotten to mention. The most beautiful woman in the world, Helen of Sparta, the natural daughter of Zeus and Leda, the wife of the former Spartan king Tyndareus, was a married woman.

Not wanting the old man to grow concerned, the prince assured him that he would not act irrationally. If Helen was destined to love him, the gods would see to it in due time.

After leaving the temple, Finn returned to the palace to devise a plan. Helen’s husband, King Bellamy of Sparta, was a healthy young man. The Trojan prince had no intention of waiting decades for him to fall sick or get killed before he could claim what was rightfully his. With the help of his most trusted friend, a noble by the name of Murphy, the young man came up with an ingenious idea. He would travel to Sparta as an emissary on behalf of his father, King Marcus, and leave with his intended.

Convincing the King to let him go to Sparta took some time, but Marcus eventually relented. The middle-aged king was happy to see his son take an interest in the political life of Troy instead of spending all his time courting young women. The prince had left a trail of broken hearts and stolen virtues in every district of Troy, from the noblewomen to the fishermen’s wives. Over the years, the king had had to pay off more than one scorned husband to avoid scandals.

Keep Reading

#clexanya #clexa fanfic #the 100 #Lexa is Achilles #Anya is Patroclus #Clarke is Briseis #g!p #no rape or abuse #The Iliad

[maxanddogspike]

My life story . Part 1/ ?

So.. This will be my blog, the blog of Max.

Before talking and venting, I should start with telling something about myself.

I'm Max, a male from Europe (somewhere west), old (29) ..

All my life I've been depressed, chronically if I may say so myself. But nothing has really helped me conquer it. I've been to therapists, did anything, currently on meds and still losing the fight that has been there for over 23 years. As far as I can remember, my youth wasn't as great as it seemed for anyone else.. We had it all, litterally all we could ever want. I grew up in a big house, with my family, doing anything we could and enjoy everything that we were blessed with. Being at the verge of everything new .. As I remember being one of the firsts with internet etc. We would do fun stuff together, enjoy the gifts we were given. All was loveydovey .. My dad was mostly gone for work, while mom got to stay home and we even had a nanny to help her with us.

One of the days I remember, we were eating diner and my dad phoned, telling his father passed away.. Suddenly the food felt cold and we really didn't enjoy our time no more. A while later, I noticed changes throughout the house, everything was different. I remember hearing crying come from upstairs.. My room, to find my mom on the floor trying to clean my toys while crying her eyes out.

Suddenly dad was gone, we didn't see him for weeks.. He left us.

At that point our lifes changed dramatically, we didn't do anything fun anymore and we didn't even see dad for weeks on end. The only contact we got was once a week a short phone call..

I remember sitting at the computer, my mom guiding me as I was just 6 years old, sending an email to my dad as we were visiting him soon and if he'd have a gift ( I know it sounds odd now.. But at that time I loved toys)..

The days passed and I remember getting in my moms car, to be driven somewhere new and strange. It ended up being a vacation home rented by my dad.. He was waiting for us, only to get in a verbal fight with my mom and we quickly had to leave the car and go with him.

That day was rather odd, as we did do fun stuff.. But it all felt weird, not knowing the truth (which I'll probably explain in a later post). We quickly had to go back to our mom the day after. I remember growing up as a Christian.. At some age I did the "Sacrament of Confirmation" .. In a church, it should've been a celebration.. But when I went in, I noticed my family split up.

Not knowing the trouble it would cause, I sat down at my dad as I hadn't seen him in so long.. It caused rather much anger and pain on my moms side. During the "Sacrament of Confirmation" I had to sit with all the kids in front of the church, at some point the father of my mom jumped up to start shouting and yelling at my dad as he brought his new girlfriend .. Making me litterally sink through the floor as I dropped down and tried to hide in shame.

My parents settled in a lot of courtcases and in the end I could visit my dad for a day every other weekend, being allowed to phone him once a week on a set time ( if the phonelines weren't disconnected .. ) .

At around 12 I started stating I'd rather live with my dad, as my mom got a new boyfriend. They both started to physically and mentally torture me, I was promised a lot (not a lot of items but more promises like "you can sit with me on the way back on a day out") and never actually got it as my mom preferred spending time with her new flame.

They met as we moved in next to him, so he was our neighbour. I remember a night I got a bloody nose and I couldn't find my mom, only to be found hours later somewhere in the streets looking for her by my dad. He was rang up by my sibling and drove an hour to come help.. Turned out my mom was sleeping with the neighbour and left us alone for the night.

Weeks,months,years passed. My parents fighting eachother, my mom not being ashamed to keep us involved as her minions. As at one point we'd have to give messages to my dad from her. She even tried to run him over with her car.. Whilest I sat next to her in the passenger seat.

At around 12 I had enough, I was hit and tortured enough and requested to live with my father. Only to be shouted at and talked into that she'd stop loving me if I did and "What would your friends think.. You'll lose them".. around this time I started to Self harm myself intentionally ( I was told I did it before, but can't really remember).. When my mom saw all she said was "Don't do that.. ".

At 16, I recently broke up with my first girlfriend, I took the dive and left to live with my dad. Tortured and broken, depressed and lonely I moved about 100 miles away from her.

My first contact with her was her calling me, asking why my phonebill was high. As it was still registered to her.

And why she had to pay 5$ a week for healthcare for me, as my weekly therapy sessions had a "voluntary pay" of 5$ a session.

For now, I'm leaving it here.

Maybe someone reads it.. Maybe not.

Those with issues or questions may always reach out,

Thank you for your time <3

Never forget. "You matter to someone, even if you think you don't"

#self worth #self portrait #depressing shit

[twiintaurus]

YOUVE AGREED TO OPEN THE BOX. PREPARE FOR LONG MESSAGE…… i’ve loved hetalia for a long, hellish 10 years. and ive been on such a strong kick for like 2 weeks, probably cuz i’m finally going to college and the 12 year old running my brain wants me to not do that. this all started when i remembered my first OC and thought “i’m getting a degree in creative writing, i could do so much better now”… that was a mistake :)

when nations are discovered, the personification do so whenever (thanks Iceland). so a long while ago, there was the first personification of the Americas (dubbed Mom). but when the white men came, slaughtered, and conquered, Mom was sick and started to disappear. it was expected that a personification would come in her place; instead, she left behind several children make up America. the AU is that everyone thinks it’s just Alfred, but there are 2 more that totally shit talk the other nations in his ear.

first child: made up of the original colonies and Florida, it’s everyone’s favorite- Alfred! he had to stay regardless of how i tried to get rid of him! he’s probably mostly the same, he’s already perfect.

second child: made up from the land of “the louisiana purchase”, and later Texas, she’s Louise-Ann, aka the original OC (totally not just a better version of me). she’s probably the brain of the group, but hates Europe just enough to never want to go to the meetings.

third child: made up from the “Oregon Country” and land from Mexico (aka from Washington to California to Texas), it’s Allan!! 2p Alfred has to stay, i had to use him cuz i wanted a die hard vegan from California in here somewhere. it’s so funny that everyone thinks Alfred and Allen are the twins when they aren’t.

children 4, 5 and 6 are actually adopted, but my babies; its Alaska and Hawai’i! because everyone needs a Russian and beloved baby sister in their life <3 and then the group forcibly adopts Molossia, i just love him so much, i want to baby him and garden with him.

the AU would consist of “the wacky adventure of the Jones siblings and European government” :)

Omg okay, the west coast kid being Allen is great lmao I think that'd be funny esp to see the dynamic between all of them.

Like they have their own meetings trying to figure out the clusterfuck that is America and it's pretty much the same as the world meetings where they get nothing done cuz all they do is argue with each other.

I've always felt, personally, that it would make more sense for Native America to be made up of a group of people. Since there were so many different tribes with different cultures the First Nations would literally be several different personifications of each nation. Kind of like the German states before they made Germany (I'm talking specifically abt the Hetalia canon, not real history. Cuz obviously America was formed in a much more violent way and I don't think the First Nations willingly formed together to create Alfred but more so had a similar structure of several states/nations combining and becoming something else) or perhaps they began to disappear as they got sick and that's when Alfred and Co. started to pop up.

But yeah America is such a huge country I feel like it does make more sense to have several different personifications for different regions. Going from one end of the country to another can still give people culture shock because it's just so different.