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#mentally physically or because of a corrupt system

luckykiwiii101 · 3 months

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What I Will Be Manifesting This Week :

What I will be manifesting this week:

- Desired Body (Revised)

- Always Waking Up In The Void State Aware

- That my 3D always conforms in under 48 hours

What Will I Be Doing?

- Embodying the state of having my desires.

- Fulfilling myself in imagination whenever I think of my desires.

- Fulfill through visualisation and inner conversations because that is what feels most natural to me.

What Will I Manifest In The Void State?

- Desired Face & Body but with some finishing touches. (doll - like, kind of like Karen smith from mean girls)

- Desired Height (5’7)

- Desired hair (doll - like)

- Desired Name (so elegant and pretty!)

- Desired Personality

- Desired voice (singing & speaking)

- Desired Vibe (90s Supermodel)

- Desired house (so luxurious)

- Desired room (Barbie x Gossip Girl themed)

- Desired Wardrobe (Blair Waldorf type outfits)

- iPhone 15 Pro + Desired Phone Case

- New Desired Biological Dad + New cousins & aunties etc to match

- Revising that my parents got married in Paris

- Rich Family

- All my family members are happy and have everything they want

- Privacy

- Pretty School Interior & Exterior

- Desired School Uniform

- My best friends to live on the same road as me and to have everything they want.

- Perfect mental and physical health for all my loved ones.

- Desired Career to start early (Supermodel for when i’m 17)

- Perfect Posture

- Perfect Eyesight

- Perfect Culinary & Baking Skills

- Fluency in French & Dutch

- Piano Prodigy + being able to play desired songs on it

- Good at playing electric guitar

- Changing Appearance of my family members

- Revising my family’s names

- Always knowing what to say

- Family celebrates holidays like Christmas & Halloween

- Revising my memories to align with my dream life

- Photographic & audiographic memory

- Perfect grades

- Whenever I listen to a song, it feels like listening to it for the first time again.

- Desired Items

- Immune from embarrassment + Revising that any past embarrassing moments never happened

- Life feels like the early 2010’s again

- Life feels like a Gossip Girl Episode (You know I had to XoXo 💋)

- Life feels like a barbie movie (like princess charm school or smthg idk)

- Looking like desired songs

- Can Choose To feel hot or cold

- airport and plane processes to be always extremely fun and quick for my family, friends and I

- Teen Wolf & The Originals to be put back on Netflix

- Season 3 of One Of Us Is Lying to come out

- Some cute things for my pets

- Always know what my pets want

- My whole family to have good taste in fashion

- Go on nice holidays every year

- Materialise something instantly by affirming for it x3

- Kind, Respectful & Secular Family

- Disgusting Roadman fashion in London to be stopped (ew if u saw that shizz)

- Fashion to go back to the 90s and early 2000s

- People At School Don’t annoy me

- High Spice Tolerance

- Always Wake Up Feeling Fresh & Energised

- Never late to school

- Desired ear piercings

- Scary Insects never come near me (especially spiders AAAAH!!!)

- I appreciate all aspects of life

- Never abuse my manifesting abilities

- Everything i manifest manifests 10x better than how i imagined

- Basically revising my whole entire life top to bottom

+ much more personal things

Things I Will Be Manifesting For The World:

- World Peace in all realities

- No wars in all realities

- Palestine being free in all realities

- World healing

- Healed society

- Righteous justice system

- No corrupt leaders

- No corrupt governments etc

- Healthcare everywhere is free

- People are good people

- People treat eachother with respect and kindness

Guys, I will definitely go into more depth when i actually materialise all these and post my success story. + Will probably post some picture proof of materialistic things in my home and outfits etc but not my face or anything personal like that.

I wrote everything i’m going to manifest on here because I know i’m not going to be bothered to type it all out when i’m actually living my dream life in the 3D 💀

Share what you guys will be manifesting and stick to your new story so we can all post our successes together!!!

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa blog #loa tumblr #loassumption #loablr #manifestation #loa #neville goddard #live in the end #living in the end #law of assumption blog #manifesting

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whoeveniswren · 6 months

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my friend: hey, so how come Hannibal likes Clarice so much?

my other friend: i don't know probably because-

me:

*AHEM* You see, Hannibal respects Clarice because she is different from all of the money-hungry, insatiable male police officers who are after glory- Who get a rise out of saying they spoke to the great Hannibal Lecter while not being actually brave enough to converse with him authentically. They think of him as less than human, and only care about advancement. Because of this, Hannibal has come to know the FBI as a corrupt field full of corrupt officers, therefore he feels no need to give them any respect since they can't even look him in the eye. But then Clarice comes along. Instantly, she gives him respect, calling him "Doctor Lecter," being "courteous and receptive to courtesy". Hannibal is surprised she does not back down, especially since she is a woman in a very masculine career, something he already admires her for. He expects that, after he insults her, she will not come back, just like all the other cops. But she does come back, in the pouring rain, and suddenly his opinion of her soars. Nobody has ever exuded such passion for saving these victims like Clarice before. He offers her his towel, likely one of his only possessions, because he sees her goodness, her intelligence, her drive. He revels in her remarkable frankness and honesty, two things he values very highly. In the very last scene, in Memphis, is when he is truly moved by her person. In the Memphis scene, is when he truly becomes not only interested in her, but admires her deeply. Her emotional retelling of her childhood trauma about saving the lambs is what allows him to understand the goodness of her- She is truly a selfless, caring person in a world so cold and unforgiving. He changes him, and makes him believe in the goodness of humanity. THAT is what he respects about her the most, above her intelligence and respect: That she has a good heart. These lambs are the girls in a metaphorical sense, which is why he asks if saving Catherine will "make the lambs stop screaming." In the last scene, when he says goodbye to her, you can see tears welling up in his eyes. He cries because he sees her goodness, and knows therefore that she will never make it in the corrupt world of the FBI because of her refusal to stoop to unethical means in order to achieve power. This is proven true in the sequels, when Clarice’s career is tarnished because she rejects a sexual advancement made to her by her boss- Paul Krendler. Krendler makes sure after this she always gets the worst assignments and never advances because she refuses to sleep with him. He also believes Starling “robbed him” of the glory of catching Buffalo bill and is jealous that a woman, and a rookie at that, beat him to the punch. In that moment in Memphis, it’s as if Hannibal is able to see into the future, and predict her self-destruction at the hands of the FBI. He cries because he believes this is the last time he will ever see her again. He cries because he knows she is too good for the FBI, and for the patriarchal, corrupt system, yet he knows she will always blame herself for her imminent failure. (Clarice wanted to save Catherine Martin, but the FBI wanted to catch Buffalo Bill.) Her purity is a tragedy in a world so vile. For me, these two quotes from the screenwriter and director put all the underlying messages and dynamic rapport of TSOTL into an fascinating perspective:

“These are two extraordinarily gifted thinkers engaged in a tremendously important conversation. At last, a mind came into his field that was worthy of verbal and mental intercourse. I don’t know that sex has any place in any of this. I mean, yes he’s a man and yes she’s a woman; he’s very handsome and she’s very beautiful, but so what? These are minds at work here. There’s an eroticism in the thought process that transcends any kind of physical eroticism that might be between the two.” - Jonathan Demme (Director)

“The scenes between Lecter and Clarice are basically seduction scenes. They play, oddly enough, as if they were lovers. They only touch one time in the entire movie, in their last scene when he says goodbye to her- when as he hands her back her notes, he touches her finger. And it's almost a shock to the audience, when they touch. But these scenes, you would approach almost as if you were writing a sort of courtship between two lovers." - Ted Tally, Screenwriter.”

#thisiswhyihavenofriends #justkiddingidoandtheystillloveme #the silence of the lambs #clarice starling #jodie foster #anthony hopkins #film #tsotl #film analysis #jonathan demme #tedtally #horror film #autism

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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months

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Children's media can absolutely and does radicalize kids when written correctly,it's just that shitty bigoted adults in fandoms deliberately misenterpret their messages and trick them into believing they're canon and that's how we got here.Bleach had Ichigo be a goth punk dude who's a fantastic older brother and choose his female love interest because she's his best friend and he finds her weirdgirlness to be enchanting which is good rep for us because being punk is about nonconformity and so is the fact that he never joined the military system his species was largely a part of because he didn't give two shits about them but over half the fandom is convinced the mangaka is a 'sellout' and 'pandering' for not making him essentially a paranormal cop for the sake of pairing him up with the fem mc that he has a familial and queerplatonic relathionship with as confirmed by the aformentioned mangaka

Pjo had Percy hate the gods as much as Luke does and act on it too but directly TO them instead of grooming younger halfbloods to work for him as soldiers and in fact he basically adopted every one of them he came across as his siblings and pseudo-kids and this is explicitly framed as why he's a hero and Luke's evil but you see nonstop erasure of his anti-corruption and anti-authority mentality and direct action despite being his core character traits to make him more palpable as an 'average fantasy protagonist' when the point of him is that he's not normal in any way

The Owl House had 3/5 of it's mcs be poc with the two white ones being an autistic and ocd lesbian and the other a disabled boy with zero conventionally physical traits that're never made out to be ugly and the protag is an inmigrant afrolatina girl while the big villain is a puritan colonizer and every single ship on the show is queer including the m/f one and the token white boy has almost all the important characters to his arc being black and the only one who isn't is a fat asian girl who's also disabled but the HUGE amount of positive rep in the show is deliberately taken out of context for bad faith critisism by a bunch of 20/30/even 40 year olds who've never written actual good stories themselves and this includes them adoring and gushing over the colonizer guy while dismissing the poc and women in the cast as irrelevant

Across the Spiderverse had an EXTREMELY black in every way character literally named SpiderPUNK who makes his beliefs clear in every single one of his lines and isn't all talk for a single second but he's reduced down to 'annoying edgy older brother figure' and made to listen to Taylor Swift and go to Hot Topic and called 'obviously a skater boy' and every other poser punk trope in the books

Atla had Aang and Katara be a gnc boy of a lesser known type of asian race and Katara a brownskin native girl that reclaims femininity for herself with their character drives being to save the world with Zuko's arc hammering it in again and again that while he always had good in him,he WAS evil,he DOES have a lot of bad traits and that made him do a lot of bad things and THAT'S why he needed a redemption arc to be a hero but Aang gets called racist for following the buddhist belief that in-universe he was sole remaining follower of that killing humans is bad,Katara gets adultified and stripped of her actual personality to make her just 'hashtag relatable teen gurl' and Zuko gets infantalized and upholded as the least problematic character in the whole show

And my last and not quite like the rest example is Harry Potter,including the spinoffs and fanon.Everything in it is neoliberal bs and the fandom just made it worse-Oh,the house that's a metaphor for fascism and white supremacy legacies?They're just misunderstood little babies and every minority-coded🥺The lower class family who canonically were Jkr's best attempt at good people that still flopped?Awful homophobic bastards😡All the female characters?Perfect slay 'You can't sit with us' girlboss,precious little baby angel who can't tie her shoes without her reverse harem's help or manipulative self-obsessed hyperfemme pick me,those are the only three categories they can ever fall in.Marauder's Era not only existing but being very,VERY popular is nothing but whiteness-What is there for you to be attached to there exactly?With the canon cast i can least see why you'd have nostalgia but M Era is literally nothing.You just CHOOSE to pick a franchise that's violently bigoted towards basically everyone and who's creator actively influences and helps caused that hurt irl oppressed groups instead of making ocs since you're already building them from scratch anyway

It's not the fault of actual good creators and especially not kids in fandom that grown ass bootlickers couldn't accept that their precious 'escapist comfort media' isn't apolitical at all instead of absorving it's messages like they should have since they have no care for other people despite insisting how kind and unproblematic they are

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emo-batboy · 1 year

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I know a lot of people want to see Harvey Dent’s origin in the future movies and maybe even Harley Quinn being “friends” or unwilling acquaintances with Battinson, and I really want those too because they’re such good characters…but I was thinking…what if it already happened?

Batman started out about 5 years prior, when he was 24/25, and I’m sure a lot has happened since then. He’s definitely got a rogues gallery gathering, and canonically a handful of that gallery is personal friends of Bruce Wayne. There’s a lot of potential angst in those ones, ESPECIALLY Harvey Dent, and it makes me wonder if that’s one reason why Battinson is so dark?

What if Bruce started out much more hopeful, even if he was pretty jaded by his parents’ death, but he had the clear intention to deliver justice by locking away the bad guys without killing anyone? He knows there are good people out there to help. His friend. DA Harvey Dent, is fighting for a Justice system free of corruption. And his friend from med school, Harleen Quinn, is working in Arkham to rehabilitate criminals who suffer from poor mental health.

But then Harvey Dent is targeted by thugs during a court trial. He meets a terrible fate at the hands of Sal Maroni that permanently scars him, physically and mentally, until he starts killing. Then Harleen is kidnapped by the Joker and stockholmed into being an accomplice to countless killing sprees. Rather than helping her patients, Harleen’s methods of rehabilitation are used against her and others.

Bruce watches for years as the people he trusts to protect the same Justice as him are swept away into the jaws of corruption and ill fate, to not fault of their own, but it’s devastating, and he’s cracking under pressure.

Bruce becomes less about Justice and more about vengeance against the criminals that did this to his friends. He beats criminals even harder to teach them a lesson. He cares less about the letter of the law because Gotham never helped its victims anyway. He stops caring about Wayne Enterprises as much because what’s the point if everyone fighting the good fight only gets locked up anyway?

He asks himself why he’s still upholding his moral code, why he doesn’t kill. And Harvey and Quinn comes to mind over and over again. How does he know the criminals he’s fighting aren’t also just victims too? He’s not the judge in this system. He can’t kill. Not when he knows from personal experience that everyone, victim and criminal, has someone who loves them and wants to see them get better.

Death isn’t the right option, and The Batman will never act as prosecutor, Bruce makes sure of that. But if he ever sees Sal Maroni or the Joker, he’s damn well going to let his punches fly.

#battinson #batman #bruce wayne #the batman 2022 #harley quinn #harvey dent #pre-the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #oooooo this is angsty #with a capital A for AAAAAA

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barry-j-blupjeans · 9 months

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During the Day of Story and Song, Maureen Miller could only describe herself as feeling enlightened. An emotion she had not felt for years, at that point. Inside the Astral Plane, all her senses were both dampened and vehement. There was the coursing, crashing anger, but only after periods of such lowness that she was unsure if the Eternal Stockade had just consumed her entirely. Mostly, after finally breaking free, it was crushing guilt.

Maureen Miller was a proud woman. There was nothing worth pride in what she had done. She had stuck her head into a realm that no mortal or God were made to see and she had paid her price for it. Her mind hadn't been able to handle the pressure and because of that, she had lost herself. Not only her life, but her chance for a peaceful afterlife. She sought to escape and when she did? There was no justifying the way she acted on the Prime Material Plane, even if she had quite literally been driven to that point by the weight of a knowledge someone as small as her was not meant to hold.

She attacked her son. And, when she came to, Maureen figured that the Eternal Stockade was the right place for someone like her.

It was more bearable when you collected yourself back up. Maureen supposed that's why it was seen as a punishment for those who couldn't— the years she spent in here with her mind gone were torturous, a long loop of pain and rage where there. Whatever had driven you to breaking the laws of life and death now consumed you until you fizzled out or sought help.

It was chilling, hearing broken souls screaming until they lost their existence entirely. Maureen had been heading down that path once. There were others in here like her, of course, but it was rare. It was not often a soul could repent in this way, both physically and mentally.

But for her and the few others who did, the Stockade became a little less of an eternal tomb and a little more of a jail sentence. By the time they got to this state, they understood the weight of what they had done.

Most did, at least.

When Maureen built the Cosmoscope, there were no bad intentions. Only pure, unadulterated seeking of knowledge. After leaving the majority of the weight of that knowledge in her robot conduit back on the Prime Material Plane, she could no longer worry over it and thus, she had no explanation for her actions. She tried her best to unpack the little that she could remember. The dark force consuming planar systems, the Light, the research— but every meaningful connection sparked and fizzled out like a soldered wire. There was no moving forward from it.

Until the day Maureen looked out the window of her cell and knew she no longer had time to understand it. It covered the Astral Plane, taking hold of the sea. Maureen paced and thought and tried to act, but nothing would get her out of here. The other souls in the Stockade were growing restless— the corrupted ones banged against their walls, desperate for an escape, or to join in, Maureen couldn't say. And the ones like her— the ones who had finally realized what their actions had done? Maureen could see her fears reflected back in them.

The Eternal Stockade was just that— Eternal. But Maureen knew what the end of eternal looked like.

Story and Song was a wave. It was the silence in the middle of the storm, where the world-consuming force— the Hunger— paused and all the knowledge Maureen had been unable to access came flood back into her with a profound sense of understanding. And she knew these people— she knew them like she knew herself, like she had traveled with them for a hundred years, like she was the Light they sought after and she was the crew searching from it— and Maureen knew these people.

She laughed. It sounded more like a sob.

Lucretia had always been this dramatic, hadn't she?

The door to the cell hall burst open. But it wasn't the Hunger on the other side. Instead, the Reaper strolled it, a scythe materializing in his hand. He held the room at attention, just about the only person who could have drawn them back from the raging storm.

"I've got a deal to strike with you lot," he said. "Who's up for being put on probation?"

#unedited and thrown into the world ! enjoy slkdfsd #maureen miller #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #kravitz #at the end sldfsdf #ise cube writing

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lipstickchainsaw · 5 months

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What do you think about the Fury and the respective routes that you can take to her (Tower, Adversary)? In my playthrough I got her through the tower and was subsequently a little disappointed at Adversary's take (probably since I was expecting a little bit of variation due to the absence of godhood)

And, if you have time, what do you think of the Apotheosis?

Well, this one's been waiting in my inbox for a while, so let's get to it.

The thing about the Fury is that she is defined primarily by a great identity crisis, having a certain identity/role established at the end of Chapter 1 and then having it totally denied over the course of Chapter 2. Yes, the Tower and Adversary are very different, and the way you deny them are different, but the result of that is remarkably similar, so let's have a look!

(I'll talk about the Apotheosis in a reblog.)

I, too, got to the Fury via the Tower the first time, so let's start there. The Tower is a Princess defined by your attempt and subsequent absolute failure to slay her. Your perception of her is that of someone impossible to lay a finger on, so why even bother, and the role she grows to fill to meet that perception is of a god.

And your inability to resist her extends even to your choices in the Tower, because she can outright overrule or preempt your choices in a way no other Princess can, even taking control of the Narrator. It's how she defines herself, and being joined by the Broken only further enhances this.

And then you defy her anyway. You go right against what she demands of you, defy her even as you stab yourself at her command to cut her heel, to draw blood. This sullies her image to such an extent that it causes a mental break, because this shouldn't be possible. You should be a broken simp worshipping her at her feet, freeing her from her bonds in the culmination of her being as a god, and instead, here you are, plunging your blade into a god's heart.

So the Fury ends up looking the way she does, her flesh torn, her perfect image clearly sullied and corrupted, her heart open for all to see. At the same time, this incongruence between the two roles your perception might've made her fill (and the tension between the Broken and the Stubborn), the thing that's making her have this mental break, also leaves her tapping into some genuinely incredible power, basically insta-killing you no matter what you try, pissed off as she is.

Taking the Adversary route to get here, the connotations are obviously different. It is, as you mentioned, missing the divine element, but crucially, the Adversary is also defined by one very simple thing: you both fighting to the death and clearly enjoying it.

She outright says, as she dies in Chapter 1, that doing this was 'fun'.

So when you meet her again, her sole purpose in life, the one thing she wants and cares about, is fighting to the death. If you give her this, everything is fine, and she reaches the culmination of her reason for being, and it is glorious.

However, you can turn this desire to ash, either by talking to her and force her to think about her circumstances, or by turning this glorious desire into a horror show as you keep getting up despite your, uh, face being gone (which is fun, I definitely recommend doing this once).

And here, too, the Fury is an identity crisis. All her muscles, all the power you imbued her with in Chapter 2 were useless, so you see her tear her skin off, tearing the chain binding her (to her role, her position with this entire set-up) off along with it. She still wants to fight and kill you, but instead of being glorious, it's now turned bitter and hateful, and she can't even use physical violence to satisfy this urge, so, in her frustration, she just rips you apart with her grander power as she comes unshackled.

In short, by forcing either Adversary or Tower to go against her initial nature, you break a bit of the greater system operating behind the scenes, and let her tap into some of the Shifting Mound's power to break you, right before the Shifting Mound claims her.

(Also, I compared the Adversary's lust for violence to sex, and I think you can apply some of this to the Tower, too (literally worshipping the domme 'goddess'), which makes the Fury the result of orgasm denial. You're welcome.)

#slay the princess #ask me #slay the princess spoilers #stp the fury #stp the adversary #stp the tower #stp the apotheosis

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radiosummons · 1 year

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Even though Wolfwood is very much not an actual Catholic priest, I do find it compelling that Vash--someone without any religious beliefs and minimal exposure to "Christianity," courtesy of Rem (OG Trigun)--is the most faithful of the two.

And by "faithful," I don't mean so much in a religious or Christian sort of sense. More that Vash holds onto his faith that there is good in people and that everyone is worth saving. That the taking of a life is something so unspeakable to him that it will literally cause him immense mental, emotional and physical pain when he is forced to do so. His unshakeable belief, i.e. his faith that every life is precious and no one is beyond redepmtion irregardless of how morally corrupt an individual may be is so foundational to who he is as a character.

While I've only really experienced this through anime and various other Japanese based video games, I do enjoy seeing depictions of Christian iconography and concepts form non-Western creators. I love the art and memes of Vash being a "biblically accurate angel" (even though Plants aren't angels, I am so fucking happy that people are picking up on the unintentional symbolism) and I do enjoy the amount of, again, art and memes of Wolfwood being a cringefail Catholic priest.

But I also love the non-Western depiction of Christianity in Trigun, or rather the apocalyptic remnants of it. Despite the fact I have lost my ability to have faith in a higher being (and my own personal beef/distate with the Catholic Church/conservative Christianity as a whole), I find the worldbuilding of Trigun fascinating in this aspect as it provides its audience an alternative form of a global religion that's very relevant to our daily lives.

In Trigun, Christianity is very much a shadow of its former self, a leftover remnant of humanity--more specifically, a remnant of an old forgotten belief system--that has been essentialy been lost. Save for a few remaining Bibles and some memories of particular Catholic iconography/symbolism.

But overall, that's all that remains. Just familiar symbols and various rituals that some people are able to recall from their former lives.

So the decision to pair Vash up with someone like Wolfwood, someone who has lost his faith in humanity as a whole but has resolved himself to protect those that he can (or rather, deems worthy of saving) ... I find that relationship absolutely fascinating. Because I'd argue that in most Western depictions of a holy man (typically Christian and typically Catholic, let's be real), it's usually the holy man that is doing the saving. Or at the very least, is usually helping guide the other characters on their own paths towards redemption.

Despite the fact Wolfwood isn't an actual priest but instead an assassin trained by a mercenary group using the guise of an old religion (again, that most of humanity has clearly forgotten about), I find it to be a wonderful storywriting choice to make Vash the "holy man."

They're both incredibly tragic characters that burden themselves with crippling destinies. Destinies that ultimately lead to their own destruction, but hopefully all for the greater good. Vash holds faith that maybe, just maybe, he can make Nai realize the error of his ways and turn over a new leaf.

Understandably, Wolfwood finds this way of thinking horribly childish and naive. He even takes it as a personal insult when Vash continues to insist that killing people, even if it's for the sake of protecting someone else, is wrong.

But Vash isn't wrong for wanting to see the good in people. To borrow a quote from Everything Everywhere All At Once: "You tell me it's a cruel world, and we're all running around in circles. I know that. I've been on this earth just as many days as you. When I choose to see the good side of things, I'm not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It's how I've learned to survive through everything. I know you see yourself as a fighter. Well, I see myself as one too. This is how I fight."

Granted, Vash doesn't express his beliefs as eloquently as this. But that doesn't really matter, though. Because Wolfwood doesn't need Vash to make express himself this way for Wolfwood to finally understand him. Vash, by the simple of virtue of being himself, is a good person who chooses to see the good in others.

And Wolfwood ... Wolfwood is someone who chooses to see the bad.

Wolfwood cannot quite bring himself to view the world the way Vash does. And Vash will never be able to share Wolfwood's opinions regarding who is worthy of living, either. But they respect each other and understand where the other person is coming from.

It does take Wolfwood a lot longer to understand Vash as a person, let alone his faith in humanity. But when he does, it's so satisfying to watch Vash become someone important to him. Someone that he wants to protects. Because if Vash won't defend himself, Wolfwood resolves to be the one to protect Vash.

Even if Vash doesn't really want that.

It's so fucking amazing to see these two clash over their ideals, whether it's in the form of playful teasing or straight up beating the shit out of each other. But they stay together and hold each other in such high regard despite their conflicting beliefs.

To me, one of the most beautiful aspescts of Trigun is that Wolfwood--a man of faith but only in name--gets to have such a close connection with Vash--a man of faith through and through--and that because of their relationship, they both inspire a existential AND spiritual crisis within one another.

Because in a world that makes no sense, they both find faith in each other. And if that isn't the most beautiful shit you've ever seen, then I don't know what is.

#trigun #trigun meta #og trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #vash #trigun vash #trigun wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #wolfwood #vashwood #i've got a LOT of feelings about these two #yes i quoted #everything everywhere all at once #it just fits okay?#i haven't posted any trigun shit in a while #here's my way of making up for that

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acerdime · 6 months

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Lazarus Pit - DC x Riordanverse

Nico di Angelo and Pollux meet and save either Jason Todd, Tim Drake, or Damian Wayne at the Lazarus Pit and take them to Camp Halfblood.

Hades & Thanatos requested that Nico di Angelo and the only surviving Son of Dionysus, Pollux, rectify the problem of the Lazarus Pits.

Every Death/Underworld God of every pantheon has agreed that the Pits are an abomination of maddeningly corruptive resurrection that never should have been used, especially not for immortality. Ra’s al Ghul will face eternal punishment for his crimes in whichever underworld he ends up in.

As the most experienced child of Hades alive and the only one with teleportation powers, Nico was an obvious choice for the mission. Pollux, however, was chosen because of his father’s control over insanity and lesser known association with rebirth. Unfortunately, because Nico is a Prince of the Underworld, it goes against his very nature to touch liquid resurrection, and doing so would leave harsh burns on his skin in addition to the average effect of Pit Rage. A bottomless pot was forged and enchanted to fully drain the pits but even then, the essence bleeding through is too much. In order to combat this, a son of rebirth and insanity (Pollux) must be sent to drain and hold the pot while Nico acts as transport and defense from the League of Assassins.

While most of the Pits are drained with little to no problem thanks to Leo’s hacking and Nico soul sight, it’s the last Pit where the plan goes awry. Which bat the boys meet next is up for your choosing. A choose your own adventure for writers who already have that option anyway.

Personally, I believe either Jason or Tim to be the most plausible to be in the Pit Room and in such a bad situation that the demigods would feel the need to intervene. Jason because, obviously, he’d be about to get dunked in it to restore his mental capacity and demigods know that’s an awful idea. Not to mention that Pollux could ask Dionysus to fix that instead if needed. Once his mind’s back, he’s going to be absolutely pissed that so many kids are being used as child soldiers, cannon fodder, and monster food with little to no outside help. After he reunites with his family, he’ll definitely be setting up a series of fully-stocked safe houses with hero contacts taking shifts to protect them from monsters if not all are secure enough with bat tech. When he’s older, he’ll probably adopt some.

Tim because he just lost his Spleen and surgery isn’t cutting it so they also need to dunk him. The demigods take him to Camp for Apollo Cabin surgery. It’d be kind of weird for Will Solace to be a better surgeon than one hired by the al Ghuls (even if he’s a demigod) but it’s action/adventure fiction so we can afford to be handwavey about it. He’d definitely set up a safe house system too, but might not adopt a demigod when he’s older.

The demigods could also meet Damian since obviously he grew up there but I seriously doubt he’d be in there without Ra’s and/or Talia personally overseeing his safety. And while these demigods are good, 500 yrs of combat experience is pretty damn hard to beat (especially since many of the giants and titans probably relied more on brute force/power than skill) and Talia’s no slouch either, not to mention that it’s unlikely that Damian would be physically abused in that room badly enough to need intervention during such a high-stakes quest. He might not see the need for a safe house system, but when he meets/reunites with the batfam, Jason at least would probably still set it up.

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space-spooker · 1 month

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So, I've seen a weird amount of Astarion fans (mostly on tiktok) be weird about people enjoying Gortash when the two characters are...oddly similar? I'm not just saying this because they're both evil aligned men (obviously Astarion can be changed a bit as you go but I mean initially and ascended). Both characters are victims of prolonged abuse, both mental and physical, and are/were corrupt figures in Baldur's Gate's political system. Obviously Astarion's role as a magistrate didn't have as much power as Gortash's, but he was still a corrupt political figure. One of his rulings affected the gur people enough they jumped him and it lead to his death. I do think most people hate Gortash more because his choices as an antagonistic character directly affect a person we care about and can even be (Karlach). It's much more personal than Astarion's offenses against the gur. In the case of ascended! Astarion, I really don't see how he and Gortash are all that different. Yes, Gortash still has more political power, but Astarion is just as if not more controlling than the guy who's the chosen of the literal god of tyranny. In conculsion, I feel like if in all of Astarion's torment a god had answered his prayers, and it had been Bane, Gortash and Astarion could easily swap places. However, Gortash chose to keep the cycle of abuse going while Astarion has the narrative choice to put it to an end.

#clown.txt #astarion #enver gortash #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 gortash #bg3 spoilers #im not excusing gortash please please actually read the post #astarion acunin #baldur's gate 3 #character analysis #ill elaborate more if asked i really struggled making this concise

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submalevolentgrace · 5 months

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This system, shrouded in secrecy, has inflicted immeasurable damage – both mentally and physically – on hundreds of innocent individuals and families. It is their right to know who bears responsibility for their suffering.

This truth is not solely the right of refugees; it is the right of the Australian public. The deaths under this system demand an independent investigation – a right owed to the families and friends left in the dark.

We know how Reza Barati was killed in February 2014, but we don’t know how the system tried to hide the truth from the public. We know that Faysal Ishak Ahmed was killed because of medical neglect, but we don’t know which individual was directly responsible for that. We refugees know Hamid Kehazaei was struggling for months to receive medical treatment for an infection on his leg, but we don’t know who within the system prevented him from getting treatment.

...

The public has a right to scrutinise the level of corruption embedded in this system – to identify those who profited and the politicians complicit in these contracts.

#auspol

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theuchihalawyer · 2 months

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Thoughts on Obito?

Sorry if this is too long lol, I just really like him and I despise how he's misunderstood

Obito is actually my second favorite character. Even when I didn't know he was Tobi/Madara disguise yet, when I watched Kakashi past, I grew fond of Obito immediately.

First of all, what I don't like is that he's reduced to a "simp" by the fandom. It's like, Obito is really misunderstood, for me, Obito is brillant, well-written. For me, he has even more depth and matters more than other popular characters (?)

But well, Obito was a child soldier, a 13/12 year old kid in the middle of an ongoing war. He was ostracized for being below the standards of the Uchiha clan, he acknowledged this, calling himself "the black sheep of the Uchiha", he always got surpassed by others and had no family but team Minato.. where Kakashi didn't even respect him until he was in the middle of dying, and always turned him down and.. Obito grandma was a filler.

And then.. half of his body gets mutilated, he has no leg, no eye, no face, no arm, he got CRUSHED during a mission against the opponets of the village he wanted to protect, while saving his comrades but he gets "rescued" and sewed by Madara, Madara tells him the shinobi world is too rotten, corrupted and since it won't change — it must be destroyed, and that he'll realize soon. He tells Obito he won't be capable of being a ninja in his state, but Obito, but he still has hope, despite being in such gruesome situation. Obito doesn't believe him, he spends most of his time thinking about his team while he recovers (which was incredibly painful and discomforting..people tend to ignore that, like, Obito really suffered during the time he was kidnapped by Madara), desperately wanting to see his team again, they give him the strength to recover, to do his absolute best! And then he does get the chance and goes back to see his team after a long time of being "trapped", of struggling, of the whole process he went through. But? It was for nothing. He watches one of the only persons who believed in him, kill herself with Kakashi's attack (which was a technique perfected by having Obito's sharingan) the guy he gave his life for, and she does it for Konoha, for what she was taught was right, that she was nothing more than a tool (and no one will remember her sacrifice, the village won't, but Kakashi and Minato, who dies later.)

Obito was destroyed mentally and physically, noticing Madara was right, but also because everything he went through, he says that he's living a horrible nightmare, and the horrible nightmare is the shinobi world. Rin, and everything he went through, the war, Sakumo, his own "death", etc made him completely notice the reality of Madara words and the system. The system it's corrupt, and it wasn't going to change at all. Rin died, she died because she was taught her life wasn't as important as the village, why? Because of Konoha fascist regime, and like it manipulated Rin, it was manipulating every child soldier and pretty much every generation (haven't seen it change yet lol) and if that system never changed, there would never be peace (it never changed during Obito whole life, the corrupted system never changed, Obito saw this happen his whole life. Over and over)

All of this happened because of the shinobi system, the will of the fire, and he began realizing it. And how was he? His body was mutilated, his love interest died, and a person close to him killed her, where was his teacher? Nowhere to be seen, just like when he "died", he was kidnapped, Madara promises him a better "world" if he comes back to him. He had just lost everything. He sees nothing but cruelty through his whole damned life, why? Because of the shinobi system, so he reveals against it. That's what I really like. Rin was just a catalyst to Obito view of the shinobi system and world in general, and no, his actions aren't because of Rin only, because if it was that way, he'd just revive her with the Edo Tensei, besides the fact he's not in love with her anymore after those years, and his ideology about the shinobi system being corrupt started before Rin's death, it was Sakumo death too, and Minato explaining it to him. But yeah..no, he's a simp in half of the fandom's eyes, lol

I also don't think Madara "brainwashed" him or controlled him (?) enterily, Madara did chose him (stated by Zetsu) but Obito himself saw with his own eyes the fascist regime that wasn't going to change, neither end..and for what? To be reduced to a simp.

Obito was a victim, yes, but anyways, I won't defend the clan massacre that he participated in, neither the Kyuubi attack, people he murdered and the war. Anyways, I love his character. He's my favorite and always will be. :]

#obito uchiha #uchiha obito #pro uchiha

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universitypenguin · 1 year

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Chapter XIII

The Princess & The Lawyer

Summary: A scare with her stalker causes Princess to take matters into her own hands. Meanwhile in Idaho, Lloyd finds himself between a rock and hard place.

Word Count: 8,058

Masterlist

Warnings: Description of a physical assault with a blunt weapon, stalking, harassment, dangerous encounter with a semi-wild animal, cowboy/ranch work, illegal drug trade, and corruption. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Author’s Note: I wish this installment hadn’t taken so long, but between going on interviews and then changing jobs, the past few months have been crazy. Thank you for waiting, encouraging me, and sticking with this story.

Chapter XIII

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were counting down the seconds until you could end this call but Weston Tafferty was in prime form tonight. Even though you’d clocked out thirty minutes ago, he seemed to think your personal time was fair game for work-related conversation. He continued to fire off questions as you struggled to fill in your eyebrows and carry your end of the conversation. If he didn’t wrap this up soon, you’d still be on the phone with him during your belated family birthday dinner.

“Why wasn’t I cc’d on your emails to Detective Roth?” Weston asked.

“I’m not using my work account for those messages. Roth set me up on their encrypted server.”

“And this prevents you from emailing me how?”

“Wes, that information is too sensitive to share.”

“Hmmm. I’ll give you a pass for now, but next time, make sure I’m in the loop. I also noticed you haven’t been using my spreadsheet system. If you don’t comply with departmental requirements, I’ll have to write you up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. Listen, I’m already off work and I have plans. Email me the details and I’ll take it up with HR.”

A while ago this sort of micromanagement would’ve sent you through the roof. Tonight, other stresses were taking up too much mental space for you to care. And thanks to Weston’s call, you were running ten minutes late. You tapped your phone to check the time and realized ten minutes had become fifteen. Great. Your Mom would kill you if you were late to your own party.

Another icon on the home screen caught your eye. There was no little red number hoovering in the corner of your message app to announce new texts.

There had been no new messages for a week.

Aiden had just… stopped. It should feel good, but your nervous system was screaming. An impending sense of doom settled over you and kept you trapped in the house all week. Your gut said this ceasefire was temporary and Aiden was biding his time.

You’d filed a complaint with the police and he'd gone no contact. It was disorienting. Just when you started taking Aiden’s threats seriously, he stopped making them. Filling out the paperwork at Metro had stripped away the delusion you’d maintained last week. Writing the incidents in black and white on police forms laid waste to your sense of security. As the silence had stretched from one day into two, and then into four, fear sank deeper into your consciousness.

Staying locked in Lloyd’s house forever wasn’t an option. If it were, you’d do just that. But your parents had already delayed your birthday celebration because of the Singapore trip, and backing out now would demand an explanation you weren’t prepared to give.

Checking your reflection in the full-length mirror, you frowned. Thanks to Aiden’s threats about your apartment, you’d avoided going home, so the only dinner outfit you had was the dress Lloyd gave you in Singapore. Unfortunately, the skirt didn’t cover your knees. Self-defense lessons with Landon and Jake had left them covered in ugly bruises.

There was no way Vivan wouldn’t notice and then your mother would make a fuss. You tried covering the marks with concealer. As you were applying setting powder, your phone buzzed. Hands full of makeup, you glanced at the screen.

A message read: Here.

You were expecting Jake and tapped ‘K’ in reply.

There was a noise from below as the front door opened, then the scuff of sneakers on tile. You tossed the concealer into your makeup bag and rinsed your hands before heading downstairs.

“Hey, Jake! Guess what? No new messages today. He’s gone from obsessed to silent. It’s crazy…”

You turned the corner and froze. The visitor wasn’t Jake.

“Zach!”

He removed his sunglasses, hooking them on the top button of his shirt.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by,” you said.��

“I texted. Jake’s working late. He asked me to check in, said there’d been trouble with raccoons knocking over garbage cans.”

“Yes… Racoons.”

“Everything okay?” Zach asked.

“Absolutely.”

He cocked his head. “Yeah? Who were you talking about before?”

“Uh… I was scheduling a follow up with a witness. A witness in another case. He was responsive at first, like, obnoxiously, but suddenly… you know. He’s ghosting me.”

“You seem nervous.”

You needed to lie - convincingly.

“I’m fighting with Vivian, and my birthday dinner is tonight. It’s going to be interesting.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah. Just family drama.”

“Hmmm. Jake’s been cracking his knuckles all week, which is never a good sign. I checked the location history on our work phones and saw Landon and Jake have been stopping by regularly. What gives, Y/N?”

“That sounds like an invasion of privacy,” you said.

“They’re my phones. Speaking of… give me yours.”

He held out his hand.

“No way.”

“Suppose the racoons aren’t just racoons, Princess. Give me your phone. I won’t check the location without cause.”

You hesitated.

Zach wiggled his fingers. “Give it.”

You handed him the phone. Zach tapped in commands as you collected your purse. By the time you’d checked your wallet and keys, he’d installed the app.

“When did you hear the racoons?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Did the floodlights come on?” Zach asked.

“Ah… I don’t remember.”

You wished Jake had given you a heads up about the cover story. Zach passed you the phone.

“I’ll take a look. Don’t let me keep you, I’ve got my own keys.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Charlene, don’t be a bitch. Let’s talk about this before you do something crazy.”

Lloyd tried to make his tone as cajoling as possible. Facing down the bad-tempered female with death in her tawny eyes, he was willing to press any advantage he could, including charm.

The cow snorted and bobbed her head. He recognized that look and untethered his rope from the saddle horn in response. Through the act his eyes stayed locked on Charlene. She might be a Charolais heifer, but her temperament rivaled the most vicious Jersey bull. He uncoiled his rope and extended the loop to allow for her horns. While he understood his father had been sick, it was a crime not to have de-horned this monster when she was born. Her attitude was defense enough without having weapons attached to her head.

He swung the lasso a few times, getting it into shape.

“Charlene” – so named because all Charolais heifers were Charlene in his book – pawed the ground. Getting her out of the pasture hadn’t been easy and herding her through the corrals was an event he’d rather forget. But he hadn’t expected the sight of the narrow alley into the loading chute would turn her into a psychotic demon.

The rail-road tie fencing of the alley was six feet high and not much wider inside. Charlene had made up her mind about it in an instant, despite the fact she’d probably never seen such a thing before in her life. He’d found most of his father’s herd balked at the loading chute. Even in the pasture they acted half-wild, like they hadn’t seen a human in years. After that discovery he’d installed a series of gates in the alleyway for better control. The first was at the entrance and another positioned in the middle to prevent cows from backing up or creating a crowd-crush. The system worked, assuming the animal went in.

Charlene bellowed and raised her head, puffing herself up. Jane, the quarter horse under him, shuffled back a step. He hoped she had nerves of steel because the last thing he wanted was to snap his neck getting bucked off and finding out what the business end of Charlene’s horns felt like was equally unappealing.

“Can you hurry it up? We’re behind schedule!”

The semi-truck driver called to him over the fence and Lloyd ignored him. He adjusted the rope and turned it so the loop’s bottom strand flipped over his wrist. When he raised his arm, muscle memory kicked in. Without a conscious thought his thumb clenched and his fingers curled, while his elbow and shoulder rolled in a familiar motion. He stood up and put most of his weight into the left stirrup, preparing for the throw. When Charlene’s muscles rippled, he angled the lasso down and threw the loop, relishing the speed as it flew over his hand.

He was still focused on the mechanics of the action when Jane spooked. He’d leaned into the throw which placed his weight in the opposite direction of where she’d run. When she bucked again, he swore and lost a stirrup. Lloyd grabbed the saddle horn and fought to keep his seat.

The lasso sailed over Charlene’s horns despite Jane’s fit. He drew it snug and anchored the rope to his saddle horn. When the little roan under him felt the rope pull, she spun around, leaning back on her haunches. Charlene tossed her head, fighting the restraint.

“Good girl, Jane. You’re a roping horse, aren't you?”

The mare flicked her ears in appreciation. He laughed, surprised at his good fortune. His father hadn’t had many good traits but his taste in horses was impeccable. Lloyd twisted the rope back and forth. Charlene bellowed as it rubbed and moved forward. When he clicked his tongue, Jane backed into the narrow alleyway, dragging Charlene along.

“Hey, kid!” Lloyd called to the driver’s assistant.

“Yes, sir?”

“Shut that gate!”

This was the farthest he’d gotten her. If he lost his grip on the rope, he’d rather chase her in the confinement of the alley than around the corral. When the gate clanged shut behind her, the heifer kicked at it and made contact, causing the panel to clang against the chain fastener.

Charlene lunged at Jane.

The horse reared and Lloyd leaned into the movement just in time to avoid a tumble. Jane turned in mid-air and landed facing the gate that had just been shut. Lloyd yanked his rope over the saddle horn, and leapt off. He smacked Jane’s hind quarters, sending her galloping, and whistled at the heifer to keep her attention while the kid opened the gate for the horse.

Whistling really pissed Charlene off.

He turned and sprinted for the fence and felt her breath on his back pocket just as his foot hit the railing. He managed to climb halfway up before she slammed into his leg. Lloyd gasped at the burst of pain. When the pressure let up, he jumped down and rolled under the second gate.

“Holy shit, you’ve got a death wish,” the driver said. “I’m not taking this one!”

“She’ll calm down. She just doesn’t like trailers,” Lloyd said.

He had no idea if that was true, but he wasn’t about to keep her around to find out.

Charlene paced back and forth, eyeing him on the other side of the gate, dragging the rope he’d dropped through the mud. Lloyd stood up. She shook her head and bellowed, making the rope whip around. By a stroke of good luck he caught the end and pulled it under the gate.

As the alley narrowed, barricade posts set inside the high fence guided the cattle into the loading chute. He wound the rope around one and tugged, testing its strength. Charlene was big and this post wasn’t built to withstand that kind of weight. Lloyd wrapped the rope around again.

“If this cow kills me, I’ll sue you,” the driver said from the other side of the fence.

“I don’t think you’re the one she’s looking to kill.”

The assistant climbed over from the corral and landed beside his boss. He looked at Lloyd.

“You okay? Did she break anything?”

“No, I’m good. Do me a favor. Be ready to shut that trailer, fast.”

“What?”

Lloyd unchained the gate and moved to the far side of the alley. He glanced at the kid.

“Ready?”

The assistant ran to the trailer. Lloyd tightened the rope around the post, lashed it around his hand for good measure, and unlatched the second gate. He moved to the other side of the alley, parallel to the barrier post, and kicked the gate open, making it crash against the fence. This time the noise didn’t spook Charlene. She was too focused on Lloyd to care.

He stood there and let her charge. The barrier post served as a pivot point, creating a zig-zag that shortened the rope. Charlene was just a few feet away when she ran out of length and was swung around by the force of her own momentum. She stumbled into the loading chute and Lloyd shoved the metal panel into place behind her. He climbed up the fence and pulled the rope off her horns. When it was off, he whistled. She bolted in the only direction she could, straight into the trailer. The kid slammed the door shut.

Jane was waiting by the gate, exactly where she’d run after he’d jumped off. Lloyd led her out of the corral around to the cattle truck. The assistant watched him secure his rope to the saddle with obvious interest.

“Do you rodeo, sir?”

“Nope, never have.”

The kid’s expression was disbelieving. “Why?”

“My father preferred to train and sell horses instead of competing with them.”

“You could’ve made a killing at jackpot ropings!”

Lloyd chuckled, amused by the kid’s enthusiasm.

The driver scowled. “We’re behind schedule.”

“That’s the pleasure of working with animals,” Lloyd said.

“I’m charging you for the delay. You should’ve shot this one, she’s going to kill somebody.”

“She’ll be fine once you unload her. Do you have everything you need?”

The kid answered. “We just need your signature.”

The driver fetched the paperwork while Lloyd fielded the kid’s roping questions. It surprised him to find he enjoyed giving the advice.

When the livestock haulers were off, he walked Jane to the barn.

“You earned some oats for not breaking my neck,” Lloyd said.

Jane snorted and picked up her pace.

In front of the barn, he noticed marks in the dirt. He looped Jane’s reins through a hitching ring without bothering to secure them and crouched to study the boot prints. The mixture of clay and loam soil held its shape well, and the sun had baked the dirt into a detailed cast. He’d found similar impressions on Tuesday morning which had motivated him to spend the next few days herding cattle on the outskirts of the ranch.

The sneaky, unwanted visitor didn’t surprise him.

Settling the ranch’s affairs was his duty. Dealing with his father’s illegal side business wasn’t. He’d be insane to get involved in a drug running operation and risk a second strike on his record.

Lloyd studied the print. He knew it wasn’t from him. The first thing he’d done when he’d arrived was dig out his cowboy boots and start cleaning the barn. His boots were leather soled, designed to slide easily in and out of stirrups. They left a distinct heel and triangular forefoot print. The visitor’s boots had a tread pattern that was usually found on rubber soles. Whoever wore these shoes spent his days on city streets, not on a ranch. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. He had a strong hunch about the visitor’s identity, but hoped he was wrong. Lloyd dusted off his jeans, and went to untack Jane. He placed the saddle and blanket over the door of an empty stall.

He glanced toward the tack room and his stomach clenched. Inhaling sharply, he turned away.

After Jane was settled with a bale of grass hay and a bucket of oats, he walked to the small pen where a sick calf was bedded down in the straw. His eyes and nose were running with thick green mucus that left no doubt infection had taken hold. Lloyd checked his water. It hadn’t been touched.

“Whatever bug you’re fighting might not kill you, but dehydration sure will.”

The calf wheezed.

Lloyd shook his head. “You need a vet.”

His ears twitched at the words, but he didn’t raise his head. After changing the calf’s water Lloyd went to the house and used the landline to call Anderson’s Feed Store.

Henry Anderson picked up on the first ring. Of course, he not only knew the local vet, but promised he’d have them swing by around six. Then he started firing off questions with the zeal of a Spanish Inquisitor. How was college? Did he like Harvard, or did he wish he’d gone to Notre Dame? What had he enjoyed about England? How much did it rain over there? Did he know Coach Olsen had hung a framed picture of him receiving the Bushnell Cup in the gym lobby?

Lloyd sat down at the kitchen table and answered the inquiries. He noticed when Mr. Anderson skipped over questions about his post-college years and fast forwarded to current events. The effortless way he sidestepped the uncomfortable subject squeezed Lloyd’s heart. His unseemly history didn’t warrant such a tactful maneuver and because of it, Henry’s easy grace hit him like a three hundred pound linebacker.

“I knew that determination would take you places. I haven’t employed another highschool kid for four years straight since you.”

At that time, he’d done his best to stay out of Joe’s way which meant the long hours at Henry’s store were a perk. Later, their fully stocked breakroom fridge had allowed him to avoid going home for days at a time.

“How’s April doing?”

He finally asked about the topic he’d been expecting would come up, but hadn’t.

“She’s doing well. Married a boy from Portland and now we’ve got four grandchildren. The oldest is a senior this fall, and the middle one starts seventh grade. The second youngest is in kindergarten and the baby turns two in a month.”

“Wow… that’s a range of ages.”

“The baby is her Mama’s spitting image. It took four tries, but her genes finally hit copy paste.”

Henry laughed at his own joke while Lloyd tried to imagine it.

“I’m sure you’ll catch up with her, but I’ve got to let you go. A load of grain just pulled in. The vet says they’ll be by after 5:30, probably closer to 6.”

“Thanks, Henry.”

He hung up and tried to wrap his head around the bombshell that April Anderson was married with four kids. He wondered why Henry had suggested they catch up. It seemed to imply she still lived in the area. Lloyd shook off the curiosity and grabbed the truck keys. He didn’t have time for a social call. Already, it was mid-afternoon and his errands in town couldn’t be put off any longer.

Lloyd paused at the door and reached into the side table drawer. As expected, his father’s loaded .22 Sig Sauer was inside, encased in a leather shoulder holster that held two extra magazines in a pocket on the right strap. Being a felon, he wasn’t legally allowed to carry a gun, let alone a concealed gun. He thought of the boot prints and his suspicions about the night-time visitor, then removed his denim shirt and slipped on the holster. He covered it with the shirt and checked his reflection. The loose garment and compact weapon rendered the bulge under his arm almost invisible. He put on his sunglasses and grabbed a baseball cap from the shelf.

It was just a quick trip to town. He’d be in and out before anyone knew he was there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You tugged at your skirt, trying in vain to shield your bruised knees. Even with setting powder, the concealer hadn’t provided the coverage you’d hoped for.

Vivian stirred her yogurt and watched you from the corner of her eye. Your birthday dinner had gone better than expected. For dessert you’d taken the family out for frozen yogurt and, at your Mom’s suggestion, walked down to the park so Alyssa could run around. She’d behaved well at the restaurant, but after two hours of sitting, she was getting antsy.

With the efficiency of a general, Mom had taken charge of Sam and ordered Juan to mind Alyssa. She had sent you and Vivian off to ‘enjoy the peace and quiet,’ which was code for ‘go make up because I said so.’ From a shady bench you watched Mom encouraging Sam to walk through the splash pad spray. She was bent over, letting him hold both her hands for balance, uncaring of the mist soaking the lower half of her linen pants. Hector, Caleb, and Diego were kicking a soccer ball in the grass and Juan was hovering nearby, watching Alyssa play in the landscaping.

“What’s Alyssa doing?” you asked Vivian.

“Playing with rocks. I don’t know why, but if you give her a rock, she’ll look at it for hours.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“What happened to your knees?” Vivian asked.

“I fell.”

“Were you drinking?”

“Vivian!”

“What, you’re not uncoordinated. Were you drinking?”

“No!”

“Well, I have to ask. You’ve been acting super weird lately,” she said.

That was true. You cringed under her scrutiny and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, Vivian.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My reaction to your pregnancy was uncalled for. I overstepped, and I’m sorry.”

“I dropped it on you like a ton of bricks, so there’s that. You don’t handle change well and I should’ve known to break the news gently.”

“Hey! I’m great with change.”

“Absolutely, you just roll with the punches.” Vivian snickered, and dissolved into giggles. Then her gaze shifted to your frozen yogurt. “Can I have a bite?”

You held out the cup. She sampled it and made a face.

“Yuck.”

“First you insult my adaptability, then my taste buds.”

“Speaking of taste, congratulations on the break up.”

It took you a second to realize what she meant. “When did I tell you about that?”

“You told Caleb, which is like telling the whole family.”

“Right.”

“Does your boss live in the Historic District of Alexandria? By those swanky townhouses?” Vivian asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Last night I checked your location on Life360. Guess where you were?”

Oh, crap…

“Why were you at your boss’s house at three a.m?”

“I’m house sitting,” you said.

“For three weeks? Bullshit.”

“Damn it, I’m going to delete that stupid app. I thought I already did-”

“I stole your phone and reinstalled it. Before you ask, yes, I check your location every night. Are you dating your boss?”

“He’s not my boss. Technically, Weston Tafferty is my supervisor.”

“Lloyd’s last name is Hansen, right?”

You frowned. “Did you Google him?”

“I really should apply to the FBI someday,” Vivian said, grinning.

“Listen, you can’t believe everything on the internet…”

She was already opening a website on her phone.

“Have you seen this?”

You braced yourself to explain Lloyd’s escapades, but it was an article from the Boston Globe sports section dated 26 October 2001. The headline read “Harvard Beats Penn, Cinches Ivy Title” and the photo underneath showed a group of sweaty men in tight white pants and hulking shoulder pads. Lloyd was in the middle. He’d taken his helmet off, revealing a clean shaven jaw and hair three shades lighter than it was now, but there was no mistaking that bone structure.

“Look at that man. He is fine,” Vivian drew the middle vowel of ‘fine’ into a throaty purr.

“It’s not like that, I’m-”

“You’re sleeping with him, just spill.”

You groaned and covered your face.

“Y/N, please? It’s just us. And unlike Caleb, I can keep a secret. I can keep all the secrets, so tell me everything.”

Your sister was absolutely reliable as a confidant, but your relationship with Lloyd was so new and undefined. Then again, maybe you could use some outside perspective on the matter. It would probably go a long way toward repairing the rift between you.

“Okay. So, Aiden ended things-”

“Shut up! He broke up with you?!”

Her outrage was a delight. “Unfortunately. Lloyd took me out for dinner and you’ll never guess what happened then…”

By the time you left the park, dusk was falling. Talking to Vivian had settled your mind about the crazy twist your relationship with Lloyd had taken and confirmed that you were enjoying the new status quo, as tenuous as it might be.

There was a flier stuck under your windshield wiper. Assuming it was an advertisement, you grabbed it, slid behind the wheel and turned on the air conditioner, then unfolded the page. Breath froze in your lungs and your heart dropped like a stone as blood drained from your face so fast your vision blurred.

It was a photo of you and Vivian on the park bench. You scanned it for clues, trying to decipher the angle it had been taken from and realized the photographer must have been on the other side of the splash pad from where you’d been sitting. A shiver ran down your spine. You scanned the street, with its long shadows and fluorescent lamps. Aiden could be anywhere. Fragments of the messages he’d sent flashed through your mind, raising goosebumps on your arms. Your hands clenched into fists. This was no way to live. You couldn’t tolerate it.

Trying to calm your racing heart, you took several deep breaths. After the pressure eased in your chest and you felt clear-headed again, you evaluated your options. There was the obvious choice - contact Detective Diskant at metro and give him the photo. But hadn’t you already done that? Aiden had responded by stepping up his game. Not only had he followed you, he’d followed your family and been bold enough to leave behind photographic evidence of the act.

The message was clear: I’m watching, and you can’t stop me.

Reporting him had made things worse. You threw the car into reverse; it was time to show Aiden who he was dealing with.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His errands took longer than expected.

The health district office was slammed, and he’d waited more than an hour for copies of his father’s death certificate. Paying property taxes in person was a bureaucratic nightmare, and so was settling the funeral home bill. His last stop was the priest, and he’d cut that visit short. To make sure they wouldn’t cancel Joe’s service because of his rudeness, he’d added a zero to his donation. With one eye on the clock, he made the final turn towards home. The clock ticked off another minute. Not wanting to miss the vet, he sped up.

Sirens wailed.

Lloyd hissed. He hadn’t risked speeding on the interstate after spotting the black and white vehicle tailing him, but he’d thought he had shaken them miles ago. Red and blue flashing lights followed him to the edge of the road as he pulled over.

Great. What a fantastic ending to an afternoon filled with unpleasant errands. He’d handed over a small fortune to the county and fucking donated to an organization that owned more land than Bill Gates. Like an ice cream sundae wouldn’t be complete without the cherry on top, this miserable day couldn’t be finished with anything less than a traffic stop.

He parked a few meters from the ranch’s front gate. The police truck didn’t pull in behind him; instead, it maneuvered around and turned into his driveway. It swung to the right and reversed into a parallel park, blocking the road.

The side decal on the pickup read ‘SHERIFF’ in bold print.

Lloyd watched the driver climb out. Even at a distance, he recognized the well-built man thanks to the distinctive outline of his Montana crease cowboy hat. This one was pecan colored instead of gray. It matched the tan uniform better than his old one, Lloyd noted.

He rolled down the window and propped his elbow on the ledge to hide the holster under his arm.

“Evening, Sheriff. Was I speeding?”

“License and registration.”

Lloyd took his time finding the papers and handed them over, one by one.

“You’re looking well, Holbrook. It’s like you haven’t aged a day.”

The jab made the Sheriff’s upper lip curl, but he didn’t bat an eye as he examined the papers. Charles Holbrook was his senior by twelve years, though the way he wore those years made it look like twenty. His bulky aviators didn’t cover the wrinkles around his eyes and what Lloyd could see of his hair had gone gray.

Holbrook tilted his hat back.

“Where were you headed in such a hurry, son?”

“I’ve got a sick calf and the vet’s due any minute.”

The Sheriff looked to the passenger seat where the file of tax papers lay.

“What’s in the folder?”

“If you’ve got a warrant you can look, but if not…”

“Where are you coming back from?”

“Town.”

Holbrook ran his tongue around his teeth. “You sure about that? Just town? Nowhere else?”

It seemed his instinct about being followed had been correct. He wished he hadn’t slipped their tail earlier, because it had given them the chance to set up this speed trap.

Lloyd shrugged. “I’m just trying to get home and take care of my animals, Sheriff.”

Knowing who he was dealing with helped Lloyd keep his temper in check. Thirty years ago, when he’d been a young deputy, Charles Holbrook had joined Joe’s drug running operation. Harsher sentencing guidelines made his father cautious enough to find an insurance policy and Holbrook fit the bill. He proved himself effective and ambitious, which was why Lloyd hadn’t been surprised to hear they’d had a falling out after he’d left for college. Rumor was, the Sheriff and Joe had spent the past twenty years at war, fighting over control of the intermountain west drug trade.

Holbrook grasped the butt of his gun. Lloyd tensed, then a blur of action drew his attention. The passenger door of the police truck flew open. A young man in a deputy’s uniform burst out with a pump action rifle.

Shit.

The .22 under his arm wouldn’t be any defense if the deputy was a good shot and given that Holbrook was nobody’s fool, especially in these matters… carrying illegally had been a colossal mistake. The tiniest infarction would be an excuse to throw him in jail. Lloyd’s jaw clenched as he appreciated that in this scenario, Holbrook’s definition of “jail” would mean “the bottom of Redfish Lake.”

“Watch your back, Lloyd. You know the rules in these parts.”

Rage bubbled in his chest at the threat. His nostrils flared as he took a sharp breath, struggling against the urge to fight. The Sheriff smirked.

“It’d be a shame if there were two Hansen funerals this week, Lloyd. Don’t do anything stupid. We need to have a serious chat about-”

Holbrook cut off at the sound of gravel crunching behind them. Lloyd saw another vehicle had pulled up behind his truck and scowled. He couldn’t decide if he should be amused or annoyed that he warranted backup. This was a run of the mill shake down, not… Damn it. His gaze swung to the rearview mirror. The white pickup had boxed him in. With the sheriff on his left, the deputy in front of him, and the newcomer behind, he was trapped.

It was a straight shot through the windshield with the pump action rifle. Lloyd figured he could shoot Holbrook and take cover behind the engine block, but that left him vulnerable to the occupant of the white pickup. By the time he got off a shot he’d have six rounds in his back.

“Luke! Put that away!”

Holbrook straightened up and faced the new arrival.

Lloyd didn’t blink, eyes tracking the deputy’s every move, while he complied with the request. His attention stayed on the rifle until it was out of sight. Only then did his attention return to the Sheriff, who wore a welcoming smile for the approaching woman. She wore a navy baseball cap, plaid button down, and Levi’s tucked into cowboy boots. There was something familiar about her that tickled the edge of his memory.

“Dr. Ward! Haven’t I told you it’s not wise to interrupt police business?”

Holbrook’s tone was the same one used to discipline golden retrievers - exasperated, but indulgent.

“Well, Sheriff, this time it’s you interrupting my business. I’ve got a sick calf to see and you’re blocking the road.”

She nodded at the police truck, and when she turned her head, he spotted the auburn ponytail. Lloyd’s jaw dropped.

“April? April Anderson?”

“It’s Ward now,” she said, grinning. “Dad mentioned you had an emergency, but this isn’t the kind of emergency I expected.”

“Nah, no emergency here. Sheriff Holbrook was letting me off with a warning.”

“That’s sweet of you, Sheriff. Do you mind clearing the road?”

Holbrook’s lips twisted into a sour pucker, but he touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sat in your car, gripping the steering wheel tight.

Just being parked on this street felt dangerous. Despite the risk, anger was more powerful than logic in your current frame of mind. You hung onto that fury. If the past few days had taught you anything, it was that living in fear wasn’t sustainable. Rage felt like a suitable alternative - it was certainly more pleasant than terror.

Thoughts of rage turned your mind to Lloyd. If he knew about your situation, he’d be apocalyptic. He’d protected you in Singapore with no consideration for himself and that recklessness worried you. If he flew off the handle there was a decent chance he’d end up facing a second round of felony charges. The prospect of Lloyd being sent to jail because of your mistakes was untenable. You needed to handle Aiden yourself.

From the spot you’d parked, on the opposite side of the street to Aiden’s house, you had a perfect view into the living room. He was inside and based on what you’d seen in the last thirty minutes, he was alone. Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and imagined you were Lloyd. You thought of the irritable man who’d stormed into the paralegal office and invaded your life. The image filled your mind, thrilling and comforting in equal measure. You remembered the boisterous, almost wild energy that version of Lloyd had carried into a room.

Thinking of his confidence helped ease the tug of caution that insisted you’d be safer turning around and driving back to Virginia. You twisted your neck, warming up the muscles and taking deep, steady breaths. In less than a minute, your shoulders relaxed and your jaw unclenched as the last clouds of doubt rolled away.

Moving with purpose, you stepped out of the car and stalked across the street toward the two-story brick colonial with an immaculate front lawn. Your heart was hammering, but the fear was buried under a thick fog of anger. You were going to demolish Aiden.

You rang the bell and waited. The door opened and Aiden looked irritated to see you. The sight of him made your lip curl into a snarl.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

You shoved the photo in his face.

“This, Aiden. I’m talking about this!”

“Huh?”

“I found it on the hood of my car an hour ago. You took this picture and left it to threaten me.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t lie.”

Aiden scoffed. “You’re crazy. It’s just a picture.”

“You’re harassing me. You’ve been texting me, stalking my building, and trying to make me uncomfortable. Well, guess what? I’ve already forwarded the texts to your father and filed a complaint with the police. Even with all that, you don’t seem to be getting the message, so here it is. Stop. Bothering. Me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, Aiden. If you make my life hell, I’ll be happy to return the favor - in triplicate.”

“You’re a drama queen, you know that, right? I’m not the one who came to your house. You should be glad I’m giving you the time of day - it’s not like you’d do the same.”

“I know you sent the texts. You’re taking your problems out on me, and if you keep doing it, you’ll find out that I punch back. Stay away from me. Stay away from my family. This is the last time I’ll say it - next time you find out I mean what I say.”

He crossed his arms, straightening. “You should watch your mouth, bitch.”

“And you should watch your back. You’re going to leave me alone. If you don't, I’ll put you in a world of hurt.”

“See if I care.”

“You should. Because if you don’t, I’ll give you a reason to.”

“Whatever.”

You raised your chin.

“I don’t need you to believe me. Because whether or not you think I’m serious, I am. This is me giving you the chance to turn things around. Go very far away from me and stay there. If you don’t, you have no one to blame but yourself for what happens next.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The calf ended up with a prescription for long-term antibiotics, and he persuaded April to have a beer with him. He couldn’t help but stare as they sat on opposite sides of the small kitchen table. She broke the silence first.

“Nice mustache. It ages you, but somehow it suits you.”

“Thanks. I can’t believe you’re still here. I figured some city boy would sweep you off your feet and take you to Seattle or Boise.”

“He did, but I took him home instead of the other way around.”

“I guess your taste in men improved after high school,” Lloyd teased.

“Given my starting point, it couldn’t have gotten much worse.”

He laughed. “After Tyler, I was a step up.”

Tyler Claffey had been April’s first boyfriend. He played defensive tackle to Lloyd’s quarterback and they’d been on the same team since fifth grade. Their hatred of each other ran deeper than the traditional offense vs. defense rivalry every football team suffered. Tyler still held the distinction of being the most insecure person Lloyd had ever known. For his part, Tyler hated Lloyd’s sullen disposition, lack of regard for other people’s opinions, and most of all, for being a superior athlete.

When he was caught cheating on her the week before junior prom, April had asked Lloyd to be her date. He knew the goal was to twist the knife in Tyler’s side and had accepted the invitation. They went to prom together and ended up dating until graduation.

“Tell me about your husband,” Lloyd said.

“Michael. We met in college, but didn’t date until after. He’s a lawyer.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Is he tall, dark, and handsome… with a mustache?”

April snorted. “No, no, yes, and absolutely not. I know you aren’t married, because no woman would tolerate that facial hair. You should grow a beard.”

“My girlfriend doesn’t mind it.”

Lloyd felt a ripple of concern at how naturally the word ‘girlfriend’ rolled off his tongue, but pushed it aside. He considered April - the first and last woman to hold that title - and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you stuck around.”

“I didn’t hate it here, you did.”

“I had to get away. You know why.”

April nodded. She picked at the label on her drink and lowered her voice.

“How did you feel, when they told you he was dead?”

“Shocked, disbelieving. More of the latter, to be honest. The hospital called and explained but I just… I thought he couldn’t die.”

“Are you okay, being back? Like, here, in this house?”

Lloyd shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Have you been in touch with your family?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m it.”

April raised an eyebrow. “Your sisters?”

He looked away.

“You never searched for them? After all these years? I…” she broke off. “Lloyd? Did something happen to them?”

“I can’t say for sure. I didn’t look them up because I knew what I’d find.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother couldn’t take care of them. Even back then, I knew.”

“She left the summer before fifth grade, right?”

“Yeah. My father was away, it was just me and the girls. The house was peaceful. That’s what I remember most about those last days.”

April’s brow creased in confusion, so he explained.

“She didn’t have any of her normal outbursts, episodes, whatever you’d call them. Looking back, she must have started on some kind of antipsychotic meds. A few days before Dad returned I woke up to an empty house.”

He looked out at the barnyard and saw it as it was thirty years ago. Almost exactly thirty years to the day, he realized with a jolt.

“Her car was gone. Josephine’s closet was empty and so was Ingrid’s. Only some of my mother’s things had been taken, but when I saw the suitcases were missing, I knew they weren’t coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” April whispered.

She reached across the table and covered his hand. Lloyd folded his fingers around hers.

“I hate remembering. I can’t go through the barn without thinking of Ingrid and that evil little Shetland who bit everyone. I taught her to saddle him, but I think I put on his bridle every time she wanted to ride.”

“Clever girl.”

Lloyd smiled. “She’d hunt for arrowheads with me. Josie used to go with us because if we didn’t take her, she’d cry and that would set Mom off. She liked to collect flowers and press them in parchment. The first night here, I went into her room and…”

Emotion choked him. A piece of wax paper had fallen from the pages of one of her story books. It was a bright, cheerful Black-eyed Susan. He’d stood there staring at it, as if it were a rattlesnake.

Lloyd shuddered.

“My mother may as well have driven them off a cliff, instead of off the ranch. I never looked them up… not knowing is easier.”

April squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“When I was in prison, the psychiatrist asked me if I’d ever felt love. The question made me furious. I couldn’t believe he’d think me incapable of such a basic emotion, but then I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt love - no offense -”

“None taken.”

“I knew my reaction was genuine, but until Monday night when I saw the rocking chair, I couldn’t figure out where it had come from.”

Their eyes drifted to the pine rocker by the front window.

“That’s where they let me hold Josie for the first time.”

April squeezed his hand. “Is your girlfriend coming for the funeral? I’d love to meet her.”

“No. I didn’t want her to see me like this.”

Lloyd turned his hand, bringing hers to rest on top, and studied the impressive diamond ring on her left finger.

“Nice rock.”

“It spends most of its time on a chain around my neck. That’s what he gets for marrying a vet.”

He used his thumb to turn the ring left and right, admiring the way it caught the light.

“I knew we wouldn’t last, but I loved you, April.”

“Not really. We were good friends, Lloyd. But it didn’t run deeper than that on either side and you were turning bitter.”

She paused, eyeing him curiously as her tongue traced the edge of her upper teeth.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What happened between you and Coach Olsen?”

Lloyd slipped his hand free at the naming of his former football coach. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s been decades and I’m still curious.”

“Olsen took bribes. USC paid him to make sure I didn’t sign with Harvard.”

“But you liked Harvard the most.”

“He was stringing them along, making it sound like I hadn’t decided so the money kept flowing. Obviously, that’s not kosher with the NCAA.”

“He put your scholarship at risk. I understand why you cut ties.”

His lips twisted.

“It was more than that. I got a call from USC in July, which was odd because I’d already committed to Harvard. Their rep let it slip about Olsen. I was livid. Mind meltingly furious, unlike anything I’d felt before.”

The memory made his stomach pitch. Something visceral had come over him and he’d felt his mind loosen, allowing the monster to emerge. The dam holding back years of rage burst and nothing could stem the tide.

“I’d worried I was like Joe, but until that night I wasn’t sure. Whatever had held me in check snapped. I don’t remember the drive into town, just walking across the field and seeing lights on in the shed. Olsen was in the office, working. The football shed wasn’t air conditioned back then, so the garage door was open.”

The scene played behind his eyes, undistorted by time. He saw the white cinder block shed and felt the thrill of finding his prey. Later, that feeling had become an addiction, better than cocaine and longer lasting than ecstasy.

“I snuck under the garage door into the storage area. They’d brought in the baseball equipment and there was a rack of bats beside the door. On my way through, I grabbed one. He turned when I stepped into the office and started to speak. I swung for his head but he ducked, so I only clipped him. He rushed me, and I struck his right knee, got him on the ground, and then…”

He remembered it in flashes. The sound of bones crunching, screams, then agonized cries.

When he’d snapped out of the trance there were blisters on his palms.

“I thought I’d killed him. That’s why I left for college a month early. When the team went to state a few years later, I read he was still their coach. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather.”

April stared at him. “That was you?! We thought there was a psychopath running around town!”

“There was.”

“I don’t agree with everything you did, but your reaction was understandable.”

“The only thing I regret is not saying goodbye to you.”

“I figured you wanted a clean break. Once I accepted it was what you needed, I got over it. But I worried about you. I figured we’d stay in touch, you know?”

He hadn’t wanted anyone too close to him, not after realizing what he was capable of. If he was a monster then the safest place for April was far away from him. Hence, why she remained his first and last girlfriend.

“Speaking of the past…” April frowned. “Have you spoken to Elliot lately?”

Lloyd’s eyebrows rose. “Elliot? No.”

The mention of his cousin surprised him.

Elliot Hansen was the illegitimate son of his father’s sister and some drug dealer from Boise. The drug dealer had vanished upon learning of the pregnancy and two years later, his aunt committed suicide, orphaning her young son. Joe refused to acknowledge him and Elliot became a ward of the state. Like his parents, Elliot got hooked on drugs early and by the end of highschool, he’d been a certified junkie.

“He went to rehab and was working down in Nevada. When your father took a turn for the worse, he came back to help. For the past few months he’s been on Sheriff Holbrook’s list.”

“Is he on drugs again?”

“No. I knew Holbrook was shaking you down when I saw the traffic stop because he did the same thing to Elliot.”

“Which earned you a warning to stay out of police business,” Lloyd said.

“I pay my taxes, I have the right to be nosy.”

“Damn it, April. I told you Holbrook was dangerous. Why would you put yourself in his line of fire for that lowlife?”

Her glare was withering. “He kicked meth without anyone’s help and re-built his life from nothing. Don’t call him names.”

“Fine.” Lloyd held up his hands. “No name calling. Please, continue.”

“I caught the end of their argument. There was something about the ranch and ‘mercury’ but I couldn’t hear anything more.”

“Did you ask Elliot about it?”

She shook her head. “No, because I haven’t seen Elliot in two weeks. I’m worried about him, Lloyd. I think something’s happened to him.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Part XIV

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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eatmangoesnekkid · 10 months

Text

Most traditional western allopathic doctors just do not know what they are doing. It's not intentional or their fault but it is how they have been trained and groomed in a corrupted institionalized medical system that runs off capitalism. I have been really polite around this issue and not being true to my channeling because I didn't want anyone who may be in the care of the western medicine to be afraid or worried. That is not why I share the following. What I heard from spirit is that most western doctors' solutions and answers for any ailment will usually be in the frequency of x-raying and testing, more x-raying and testing, then drugs (poisoning and numbing the body) and some kind of surgery. They will never tell us that our bodies are naturally regenerative and the solutions to most dis-eases and illnesses are rest/sleep, de-stressing the body and life, fasting (detoxifying the body and managing addictions-social media (dopamine), blue light (electromagnetic, computer, and phone use) food, and other addictions, sunlight, building harmonious relationships and intimacies (platonic, familial, and romantic), exercise (which basically means simple movements that warm up the tissues in the body to support healthy circulation), and devotion to some kind of creative/spiritual/energy practice. Basically when we recalibrate ourselves (our actual cells), live a simple regenerative life that takes care of our mental, emotional, spiritual, sensuous, and physical needs, and rework our psyche (repressed shadows and unconscious energy), our biology naturally shifts into greater harmony. The solutions and answers from Western allopathic medicine generally manipulate, weaken, and ultimately drain the divine-given magical (regenerative powers) of human beings and cause us to overconsume on materialism in order to cope with living so distant from the truth of ourselves (our cells) is what I also heard. We have to learn to be more responsible for ourselves (our cells) and come back into union without mind, body, and spirit. One of the greatest core collective woundings is that most people do not want to be responsible for themselves, but every experience that shows up in our reality is an opportunity for us to get to know our real true selves (cells). -India Ame'ye, Author #themelodyoflove

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elmhat · 10 months

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// dsmp rp

I'm just thinking about the idea of power and what it means to everyone. I think it's fair to say that most characters on the dsmp want power, to some extent, be it physical or political—and I think the main reason for that is simply so that they can protect themselves from those who are more powerful. Which creates one big power-struggle domino effect.

For example, the reason Tubbo threatened Quackity with nukes was because he was scared of how powerful Las Nevadas was becoming, and what that meant for his own nation and loved ones. But Quackity only sought out that kind of authority in the first place so that he would never again have to experience the likes of Schlatt, Techno, or Dream kicking him into the dirt. But Dream only felt the need to gain that much notoriety and experience and gear because he felt like he was the only one capable (or willing) of preventing the rise of opposing factions that would tear the server apart. And that's not even mentioning the likes of Niki or Jack, who lashed out after feeling used and walked-over by everyone.

I could list practically every character this way, but ultimately, the chain seems to at least partially lead back to Wilbur. I do think that, to some extent, Wilbur wanted to gain a position of influence in order to separate himself and his friends from what he saw as an unjust system of law under Dream—but I also think there was an aspect of him just wanting power for power's sake. Because he liked the idea of it. It was alluring, having that many people at his command, ready to jump at his word.

And that's the thing about power: it is appealing, beyond just the need for survival—and I think that's where things began to fall apart. Everyone I just mentioned, who only wanted to appear strong enough to keep themselves safe, gradually began to enjoy their new self-image. People feared them now, and that was interesting; maybe this was who they were always meant to be. Maybe they could take it further.

Of course, I think this played out in a different way, to a different extent, with each individual—but the point is, on the dsmp, everyone needs power. It's not a choice, it's a survival mechanism, so that you can summon an army against those who would come for you, or be strong enough to fight them off yourself. Theft isn't exactly uncommon, after all. But you know what they say about power corrupting—and when those around you become corrupted, you start looking for a way to defend yourself, and the cycle repeats and grows. It sucks in everyone it touches.

I know that none of this is exactly groundbreaking commentary… I just wanted to offer some kind of reason behind the self-serving, power-hungry mentality that the dsmp setting instills in its characters.

#dsmp #dsmp analysis #c!quackity #c!dream #c!wilbur #c!tubbo #c!niki #c!jack #lore thoughts #I'm back at it again (<- writing a too-long analysis on something immediately obvious)

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