#segregation tw

[wearejericho]

plotted starter with @awak3andal1v3 from markus.

❝ we've tried everything. we don't know what to do. ❞

it's been almost a month since the androids were freed from the camps; humans are coming back into the city. laws are being passed, new rules are being integrated. it's a lot more of a process than anticipated — but at least it's gaining momentum.

it's so much change. so fast. markus was trying to keep busy. he knew if he slowed down, it'd hit him. and he wasn't ready. but after 2 weeks, he was finally able to go in and out of stasis. he tried to do it daily. it helped with his scatter-brain. his anxiety. and he'd been lucky enough to avoid what was referred to as night terrors — until now.

it'd been a particularly stressful day. markus met with the mayor and the city council to discuss some segregation laws. it went fine, really, until he stepped outside: blinding camera flashes just inches from his face. four different microphones shoved in his direction. going out in public wasn't easy — in fact, it really wasn't safe for him to be alone. everybody knew his name.

'markus, is it true that you came back from the dead?' 'tell us about the moment you realized you had special abilities!' 'do you hate humans for what they did to you?' 'can you confirm the rumors that you had to kill other androids to replace your own parts?" markus doesn't have a problem with answering a question here or there, but it's too much today. he breezes past them, shoves his way into a taxi.

"how did it go?" is what markus is greeted with when he returns to new jericho. ❝ um. it was... okay. it was okay. i just need a moment. ❞ and with that, he closes himself behind a door. it's quiet here. dark. relax, markus. just take a rest. he lowers himself onto one of the mats. androids could enter stasis standing up, but markus had gotten used to laying down. carl always preferred him not to stand - it was unsettling, he said.

so he lies flat and lets his eyes close. what feels like seconds later he is awoken by the sound of screeching in his right ear. he feels weak. he can't see. he can't— oh, fuck. his legs are gone. no. this can't be happening again. but it's so real. he can feel the cold, wet ground. he can hear the distant sound of thunder.

❝ i need help. ❞ called out, alerting the android who had spoken with him just moments earlier. markus rolls himself over, grasping at the floor to drag himself forward. the moment he feels a hand on him his mind fills in the gap: the hands, reaching for him from both sides. this time, he screams. he bats at them as he feels that same arm around his neck. "where are you going?" ❝ stop. please, stop. ❞ markus begs. but the hands keep reaching for him. he's stuck: half awake, half in a nightmare. every time he's touched in reality, a fictitious being is touching him. his eyes stay closed, but any time he does open them it's the junkyard. he's there again. he knows he is. ❝ help! ❞

[forevrdreamingofbetterthings]

as soon as you start spouting segregation-positive rhetoric, the “discussion” is fucking OVER

[willyshakeyspear]

Everyone who thinks Trump can't do much damage because the US "doesn't do those kinds of things"

Are you kidding me? The Unites States has been committing atrocities it’s entire lifespan. Have you forgotten the Native American genocide? Have you forgotten slavery? Have you forgotten segregation?

The reason it looks like the US doesn’t do disgusting things anymore is because, for the latter half of the 20th century, the US has been doing them OUTSIDE ITS BORDERS.

Trump as president has the potential to bring America and the world back to a time where it was okay to oppress your own people. Trump has the potential to escalate the atrocities America has committed overseas.

The US has the largest military and air force in the world. The President has supreme power over the military.

Trump has the potential to kill us all.

[forevrdreamingofbetterthings]

[thereluctantking-blog]

verse: werewolf/modern tag: v; you learn to howl status: active

The curse persists. Despite the best efforts of the Keeper, the curse that plagued the Brecilian Forest was never fully removed. Instead, the disease that turned men and elves into fearsome wolves retreated, laying dormant in the very genetic makeup of each individual, passed on to their children. Centuries--over a millenia--after the Fifth Blight, the genetic marker is present in nearly 70% of the population of modern Thedas. And it does not always remain dormant. When the virus is activated from its dormant state, by either genetic mutation or by the exchange of bodily fluids between an active and an inactive carrier, the effects are irreversible. After a variable period of incubation, the infected individual will find themselves undergoing a change under the light of the moon, sprouting fur, shifting their skeletal structure, until there is nothing of the human, the dwarf or the elf left in them. Gone are the days of speaking, bipedal wolf-men; these werewolves shift from person to beast, through and through, and will do so each and every night that the moon ascends into the sky, returning to their natural form with the breaking of the dawn. With guidance from those who have come before, werewolves can learn to control their shift, taking back control of their bodies and moving fluidly at will between their beastly and natural states. Some choose to live most of their lives as wolves, finding freedom in the wild ways, while others eschew their wolf form as much as possible, clinging to the last vestiges of personhood that they may; and still others balance the two, shifting back and forth as their needs dictate. But no matter how they choose to live out their days, no werewolf can escape the shift that must occur under their own lunar aspect--the aspect under which they first transformed. Every lunar cycle, without fail, when the light of their aspect moon brightens the night sky, they transform into savage, feral beasts, with no trace of wit or reason left to them; a danger to all. For a time, Thedosian society attempted to integrate the werewolves, making accomodations for them where possible in the infrastructure of everyday life. However, as more and more individuals were unwittingly turned, people began to raise the hue and cry, demanding their safety from these savage beasts. As is always the case, a few ruined it for the many; werewolves who revelled in their newly made savage natures hunted in the streets of the major cities, killing and turning anyone they chose. More and more sanctions were imposed upon their kind; mandatory testing, licensing of known lycanthropes, segregation, and, eventually, exile. The major cities of Thedas are now considered quarantine zones. Active carriers of the lycanthropy virus are not permitted within their walls. Werewolves have been pushed into the rural and wild places of the world, and have built their own society, based on the pack structure that sings so naturally in their blood. Most are content enough to live their lives in that way, no longer craving a return to a society that sees them as second-class citizens; members of these packs only occasionally raid the cities, seeking out supplies to support their families, medical and veterinary resources. Some, however, are vengeful, and will sneak into the quarantine zones with the express intent to murder and turn as many as they can--knowing that at the first sign of active lycanthropy, those individuals will be turned away from their homes and livelihoods, shunted out into the wilds to either find a pack or die. A werewolf will age separately in their dual forms; no matter the age of the adult, the wolf form will be only a pup at their first transformation, and will age from that point only in the forms they wear until one or the other must confront their mortality. The virus is completely inert until puberty; children cannot be turned, and the child of a werewolf pair will live as a non-wolf until the virus activates, cared for by members of its pack. Silver is potently harmful to them, and overcomes their natural regenerative abilities; but a silver bullet or knife is not the only way to kill a werewolf. After all, fill a thing with enough bullets, spill enough of its blood on the ground, and you will still make a corpse of it.