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cherishedkids · 4 years

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a letter to kamado tanjiro || tanjiro x reader

anime: kimetsu no yaiba warning/s: angst, sad, a bit of spoilers, mentions of death and bloodshed words: 1,679 pairing/s: tanjiro kamado x reader summary: A traveller and his sister once stopped by your tea shop years ago. The memories you shared with him stayed with you even after he had to leave. This is the last and only letter you leave him.

A/N: i’m actually thinking of continuing this in tanjiro’s perspective.... but idk! i hope this letter format is understandable huhu

To my dearest traveller,

I do not mean for you to worry, but I feel that my death may be imminent. So even if you receive this letter, I doubt you have enough time to rush to the small countryside of Fujinomiya to save me. Before I leave this world, however, I still wanted to talk to you one last time, even though I know it has been years since.

If you are wondering, yes, I still am living in that shabby tea shop you visited… so many years ago. I believe it was when we were still living in the Taisho era, before the Showa era. Back when times were peaceful and we did not have to endure this… pointless war of egos. I truly hope you and your sister have stayed safe all this time. When you visited me, she was very young and cute. I hope that hasn’t changed since then.

Mt. Fuji looms before me, as the sun is slowly rising and climbing over it. The stillness of the air reminds me of my fate, and I hope you still remember me. I still do. You have left such a huge impact on me, that I almost cursed you. The stars in the night sky that are visible here remind me so much of you. When I go to burn wood for warmth during winter, I see the burning passion in your eyes staring back at me. Even when I go to hang my wet yukata, the cloth billowing in the air reminds me of your checkered haori. Everywhere I go, I could attribute to you. You just had left a mark on everything. I just wish I could see your smile one last time.

You stayed here for a few days. You told me it reminded you so much of the small village you used to visit when you still lived in the mountains, before you left to show your little sister the world. I could see the pain in your eyes when you said that, and from the scars that littered your arms, I knew how much you had to go through to be happy with her.

Nezuko, if memory serves right, loved the hot spring behind my shop. It was her first time to bathe in one, and you asked me if I could accompany her. I did, and we had a grand time. I remember just how much I looked forward to spending more time in your company. Just the smile that you gave me was enough to satisfy me.

Through the days, more and more customers visited my little shop. I had to attend to them, of course, and the both of you did your best to help me. Even though it did lead to spilled hot tea and my dango mochi looking unformed, you still tried to help. Until now, I still do not know why my eye caught the both of you. Why did I ask you to stay for the week? And why did you ever accept? Because of this, I have been longing for you all these years. I cannot help but blame myself.

Perhaps it was because of the blade you were carrying. There were only a few samurai that were still roaming around, and I had always been curious since I was young. I think it was because you both had caused such a commotion when you arrived. Outside my tea shop, a fight was going on with a drunkard and a homeless man. But you butted in to stop it, saying that it was wrong. I exited the shop and saw the both of you, standing in the sun. When you came in, I was just so inspired that I gave you free tea and dango, which you kindly accepted.

Maybe the reason I will soon be leaving this mortal world is because of my morbid curiosity--the longing to know everything. I will try not to say much about the people who will be coming for me. I do not want any bloodshed to happen even after I die. It is my only wish and gift to the world. In their place, I will die. That way, there is less death. It is better this way.

As more days passed, you confided in me about a war that you partook in. It was different from the wars now, you explained. It was bloodier, and the trail ran longer back in the past, and blood had already dried out. For four hellish years, you had to live through it, and everyday was a struggle for you. Numerous times, you had faced death, and there were days you thought you were going to die.

I can still remember the hurt in your eyes as you relived the countless deaths of your allies. Just the both of you surviving was a miracle, you said. When I looked at Nezuko, I wondered how such innocent eyes were able to witness death in the eyes and still held bravery to continue on.

But the warm smile you gave me when you said that you and numerous of your allies had defeated the supposed demon was enough to reassure me. When you were alone in your makeshift room that was actually a storage area, I saw you holding up a black uniform. I was passing by, and I read the words ‘destroy’ on it. Was that the uniform you had to wear while you were fighting the war? I ask, as if you’d ever actually reply. Forget that.

In exchange for the stories you told me about your life, I told you about the legends and the history of my family. I don’t know if you still remember, but I told you about my grandfather all those years ago. He was also a samurai, like you. Our bloodline was also wrought with clashing blades and untimely deaths, and I soon came to learn. Love and hate intertwine, and I realised it wasn’t just looks that parents pass on, but also conflicts and feuds. But it is too late to change that now.

That night… Do you remember? I’d hate to bring back memories that meant nothing to you, but this one did to me. Under the prying eye of the moon, and below the dirt palace of Mt. Fuji, you pressed your lips to mine. I wished a second lasted longer. I remember each and every touch. Your hand held mine dearly, and your body was hot as you took me in your arms. It had to end though, but I really thought you were going to stay. I tried pretending for the longest time that I was just dreaming. I did my best, you have to believe me. But it was all for naught. Your memory kept coming back to me, in the most mundane things. This dream turned to a nightmare. A reminder of the best thing I ever had, slipping away from my grasp.

It was a big world, and it still is, but you were on your own journey. The next day, you had to leave to show your sister the rest of Japan. To give her all the things you weren’t able to give to your other siblings. Was I a fool to listen to your hollow words that you were to return as soon as you travelled the country? Or do I just have enough faith in you to keep your word? But I already know I ended up being a fool.

I heard from the others about a counselor in Edo that looked like you. Watanabe Hitoka told me of this certain man’s striking red eyes and slicked black hair with burgundy tips. The scar on his forehead reminded him so much of the traveller that had visited here an era ago. Then I knew, I was a fool. Kamado was his last name, Watanabe recounted. I just hope that I left an impact on you, the same way you left sorrow on my soul when I heard this. Even so, you were able to make me happy, even if it only lasted a couple of days, and even if the pain still stayed and stung me for years to come.

My tea shop is the only familiar thing in my street. The buildings have been through everything, and as time goes by, so do the inhabitants. The young people that used to eat and drink here already have their own family, some have died, and some have been born. I think I am the only one refusing to yield to time. So much so that it has caught up to me, in the form of my ancestor’s debts.

Travellers like you have also stopped by here numerous times. Their tales and legends could never hold a candle to yours, but the ones about war never cease to surprise me. Just how harsh was the battlefield? Were you also caught up in the political hell that is Edo at the moment? I hope not. I’d hate to see you be eaten up by greed and power. I know your sweet soul would never yield, but what did I know? A few weeks together and I knew who you were? Impossible. The men disappear, but the cherry blossoms continue to grow and bloom. These were the only constants in my life. Tea, dango, cherry blossoms.

I still hope that you returned. Maybe I would not be so miserable, but family came first, I understand that. I confess, I still am holding out a bit of yearning that you’d show up and save me from the hot water I suddenly find myself in. But that only happens in tales, stories like you told me. And I didn’t live in one.

I hope to see you soon, Kamado Tanjiro. Even if it is just in my dreams. But if we end up seeing each other in the afterlife, I hope that I still have to wait a long time before that.

Yours forever,

______ ____

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #tanjiro kamado #kamado #tanjiro #kamado tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x reader #kamado x reader #anime x reader #x reader #angst #letter #nezuko #kamado nezuko #demon slayer corps

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the-neon-writer · 3 years

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Fuck it, it may not be edited and it may change still, but here’s Cara’s Intro. She’s yet another character in my maybe novel that is coming along slowly. I may have not won NaNoWriMo but i still got further with progress. So i’m proud of myself. I have one more characters intro left to write. I promise it’ll be a good one when it arrives. In the mean time enjoy this as a special christmas treat 😉🎄😉

Cara’s Intro

She wasn’t sure where he had come from, but he was there nonetheless. The man had just appeared one day and decided to take care of her. What made it stranger was that people usually looked down on her because of the way she looked. But this man did not. She may have been young, but she knew how the world worked, the other street urchins had taught her that. She had to be smarter and tougher than the rest of them if she wanted to survive. He was different though, he didn’t seem to care about the colour of her skin, or what people whispered when they saw her with him.

It had taken some time to start trusting him and he had given her all the time she needed. The moment she knew she could trust him was her first full moon. She had no clue what was happening to her, she felt like she was being ripped to shreds from the inside out and she had no control over what was happening to her. They had been staying at a farmhouse on the outskirts of Dublin. He was in the other room and she assumed he’d heard her yell. She remembered seeing him rush in, sword in hand. She couldn’t control what was happening, it was like she was watching someone else control her body, but she charged towards him. All he did was just wrap her in a tight hug and whisper that it was going to be ok and that he would help her no matter what, that he would never leave her side as long as she needed him.

After that they grew closer, he was like an older brother that she’d never had in her life. He helped her understand what she was going through and patiently taught her to control the beast as best he could.

She had a purpose now, she was informing on people for him. People didn’t care enough to notice street urchins so she could slip into and out of most places without ever being seen. She spied on priests and gentlemen, ladies in fancy bonnets and young brats of rich families. She trailed them throughout the town and reported their activities to him. She wasn’t quite sure why she was spying on these people, but more often than not, she never saw them again. So one day she asked him why he was looking for those people. And he told her, that’s why she trusted him, he told her the truth if only she asked. She was angry and confused but he explained why these people needed to be eliminated, though, sometimes, on rare occasions, he didn’t eliminate people in the literal sense. A few times during the years, she helped him smuggle people out, making it look like they were gone permanently but really they were just removed from the equation.

He told her about The Council when she turned 12. That made her understand it a little better, why he killed the people he did and spared the ones he did.

“Now I don’t always agree with the council, but, I have to trust their judgment on most things. They’re family and I guess I’m sorta stuck with ‘em. I do have a noggin’ of me own though, and they’re not always as smart as they think they are. I’m tellin ye this so that ye can understand why they can never know ‘bout ya Cara.” That’s what he had told her, “I’ve seen that not all of ye are evil and mindless bloodshed sickens me, so I hope ya know that I’d never hurt ya. Do you trust me?” She had believed him, foolish, she now knew people always ended up hurting you.

The beast was growing with her and it was becoming stronger also. And not long after her 12th birthday, the beast spoke for the first time. It was just a regular day and she was out on the streets trying to nick whatever she could off the rich blokes and snobby arses who thought themselves so much better than her. She didn’t need the money but it made her feel good to get payback.

She’d just nicked a shiny pocket watch from a well-dressed gentleman when she saw a gang of other street kids approach her. She knew them since forever, she’d always managed to slip away right under their noses, but this time she was so enamoured with her find that it was too late when she noticed them.

“Whatchu got there girly,” said one of them, snatching the watch from her hands.

“Oi give it back ye thick gobshite, that’s my find,” she tried to snatch it back but the boy was taller.

“Or what, s’not like anyone’s gonna help you,” he looked her up and down disapprovingly and giggled with his mates.

“I suggest you give it back, boy,” it was a deep booming voice, with an accent so far from Irish it was startling.

“Oi who said that, show yerself ya flute.”

“If you insist,” Cara felt herself lose control again, this hadn’t happened in years even on a full moon, but she wasn’t trying to fight it this time. It lunged at the boy and she felt it sink its teeth into his neck and the life drain out of him with a horrible crunch. She remembered seeing the horrified looks of the other street kids and saw them start running for their lives. A pool of blood was forming next to her and she saw her reflection for the first time, only it wasn’t her, it was It. It was huge, with a long sharp muzzle and glistening black fur, its ears were pointed and its eyes glowed gold. It had a slender jackal like figure, yet it was bipedal and more muscular than any human or beast.

The next thing she remembered was the chase, following the kids into the night, not even trying to regain control, the taste of blood and revenge sweeter than honey in their mouth. It caught up to them quick enough, they were hiding in an alleyway, It could hear their frantic heartbeats and smell their fear in the air. The fear tasted sweetest of all, filling It with new vigour and jest to toy with its prey.

It approached slowly giving the brats hope that it couldn’t find them, it paced in front of their hiding spot and took off at a short run to make them think it left. It didn’t. It waited for a few moments as it climbed onto the roof above them. It was about to jump them and rip them to shreds when they heard a voice.

“Cara, please, stop.” And there he was, but he wasn’t comforting or jovial. He was holding a crossbow, and it was aimed at them. “I can’t let you hurt innocent people, no matter how much I care about you.”

They turned to face him, jaws dripping with fresh blood and it spoke, “They aren’t innocent, are they…”

“Fer fucks sake they’re children, Cara, listen to yerself.”

“I’M NOT CARA.” Its voice echoed across the rooftops and silence fell between them as beast and hunter stared each other down.

“Cara, please, you can control it.”

“Oh, I don’t think she wants to anymore!” Cara was in there, but she had no control, but she was no longer certain she wanted this. It all seemed wrong all of a sudden.

It suddenly shuddered and stepped back to keep its balance.

“Cara, think about all the good we’ve done, please don’t undo it all now.”

The creature shuddered again but its eyes glowed golden, brighter than the sun. It growled and the growl permeated the air around it and cut the silence like a knife. The shuddering stopped and it looked up at him. Then it charged, but he had been ready, he hadn’t been training to hunt monsters his entire life for nothing. Before it even took 2 steps he had fired the bolt.

It stopped in its tracks and fell forward onto all four. Cara couldn’t take back control even then, she was scared but there was nothing she could do. She didn’t want to die, not yet, not like this, not afraid.

She awoke again in that warm room with a fireplace. She wondered if it had all been a dream or if she had died and this was meant to be the afterlife. But then she tried to move and it was painful. Her whole body was racked with pain as she tried to lift herself into a sitting position on the couch. She must have made some noise because she then saw him enter. He had a dagger on him made of silver, it was sheathed, but she could smell the silver.

“Don’t move, please.”

She stopped trying to sit up.

“Look, I know it wasn’t your fault that it took over, I couldn’t’ve prepared ye fer that. Something like that has happened very rarely in history and the accounts were all second-hand experiences.”

“w-what,” was all she managed to say, her tongue felt like a useless stone in her mouth.

“Yer not the same as It. There’s two of ye now.” he sighed, he looked tired and sad all of a sudden and she could finally see the age in his eyes, he forgot to hide the pain that only comes with old age, it was there for only a second before it was gone like sunlight on a winter’s day.

”You caused a lot of trouble, Cara. I don’t know how long before they notice something off, but we definitely have to leave Dublin.”

”Y-you shot me,” she struggled out, her muscles weren’t being cooperative.

”Right, yes, in yer shoulder, wolfsbane, gives a nasty shock to the system. I wasn’t actually goin’ t’ kill ya, just wanted to scare you to your senses, didn’t account on It having a will aside yer own”

She looked at him but try as she might she couldn’t tell how he was feeling, she never could.

“Get some rest,” he said as he turned to leave the room, “We’ll have to leave in the morning.”

He closed the door behind him and Cara was alone again. She was so tired, every nerve in her body thrummed with fatigue, ”shifting” was a very physically tiring process she had noticed. Before long sleep overtook her, she dreamed of a moonless night being chased by a figure with a deep foreign voice that encircled her as she ran.

#creative writing #short story #storytelling #writers of tumblr #original character #christmas treat #i promise i’ll have a dope surprise for new years #like seriously it’s gonna be whack #but hopefully fun #spoiler alert: it’s gonna be a romeo and juliette style forbidden romance #but with a twist owo

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theyearoftheking · 4 years

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Book 2: ‘Salem’s Lot

Success is my only motherfuckin' option, failure’s not Mom, I love you, but this trail has got to go, I cannot grow old in Salem's lot So here I go is my shot Feet fail me not 'cause maybe the only opportunity that I got

-Eminem, Lose Yourself

The mere mention of ‘Salem’s Lot has had my brain playing this song on repeat for weeks. And after reading ‘Salem’s Lot, I’d like to point out to Eminem that it’s actually quite difficult to grow old in ‘Salem’s Lot. You’re more likely to be turned into a creepy vampire than grow old and die of natural causes in The Lot. But I feel like if I were to ever address this with one Marshall Mathers, he’d punch me in the face. So I guess I’ll just rest comfortably with my superior Stephen King knowledge.

This was my first reading of ‘Salem’s Lot, and while I enjoyed Carrie; I feel this was the book that made the Stephen King “style” a thing fans are all familiar with. I’m not going to dive into the entire plot and every character, but the format of the book, and the relationships the characters form will be familiar to all King fans. Let me explain.

Part One: The Introduction

The book is divided into three parts. In Part One: Marsten House, we learn about the lovely little town of Jerusalem’s Lot, and start feeling a creeping sense of dread every time the Marsten House is mentioned. We don’t know why we feel creepy dread quite yet, but the feeling is lurking in our stomach like a slimy gas station burrito. We also experience a meet cute between Ben Mears and Susan Norton. Ben is a writer, hanging out at the park, trying to forget all the negativity and bad juju he experienced the first time he lived in ‘Salem’s Lot. But now he’s back, living at Eva Miller’s boarding house, working on his next novel. Susan sees him in the park, and just so happens to be reading one of his books. She asks for an autograph, and he inscribes it, “For Susan Norton, the prettiest girl in the park...” The rest is history. Well, vampire, bloodshed history. But romantic history none the less.

Later on, Ben Mears references The Haunting of Hill House, which was an inspiration for this novel. He tells Susan the subject of his newest novel is, ”...it’s about the recurrent power of evil...” Art imitating life, ammiright, Steve???

Part one also gives us our first (of three!) Wisconsin references. Ben decides to hit up the local watering hole, Dell’s, where he runs into fellow boarding house resident, Weasel Craig. To hear Ben describe it, “...his breath alone could have made Milwaukee famous.” I mean... we do love and brew a lot of beer in this city. But you can imagine my disappointment when in the next paragraph, Weasel orders a pitcher of Budweiser. Gross, Weasel, You deserve to be taken out by those vampires.

Part one continues to give us plenty of local color, and describes the residents of the town (spoiler: don’t get too attached to any of them). Part one ends with some creepy goings-on at the cemetery, and some children disappearing, and later re-appearing in slightly alarming form. Oh, and a lot of bodies at the morgue start disappearing. Never a good sign.

Part Two: The Dread Explained, and the Start of Shit Going Sideways

Part Two: The Emperor of Ice Cream is when the beat drops. But before all of that, we have our final two Wisconsin references. King twice mentions a Packers Patriots game everyone in town is anxious to watch. Ok. I have questions. So many questions. How did Steve decide on this particular football match-up? We’re not division rivals, we don’t even play in the same division. The Packers and Patriots play each other once in a blue moon. Wouldn’t the Bills or the Jets have been a more sensible selection? Maybe the Dolphins? Maybe they were good back in 1975? I don’t know. I do know I personally love Packers/Patriots games because I love seeing Tom Brady pout like a little bitch on the sidelines when our inconsistent defense shows up and decides to tackle him. Repeatedly. It’s a miracle Brady doesn’t trip over that lower lip more.

But I digress. Part two is where shit really starts to go wrong, and we understand the problems plaguing ‘Salem’s Lot are the result of a powerful vampire, Mr. Barlow and his keeper, Mr Straker, moving into Marsten House. That’s right... it’s a vampire book, kids. These two keep a low profile by buying a creepy old murder house, and running an antique store full of old junk in town. As you do.

King holds true to a lot of the traditional vampire stereotypes: they only come out at night, they are burned by sunshine, they sleep in coffins or boxes, they need to be invited in, and they can be repelled by a crucifix or some holy water. No glittery, pretty vamps here. Sorry, Twilight fans. This probs isn’t the book for you.

Part two of the book is filled with creepy passages full of suspense. You know, those parts when you find yourself cringing and chanting, “No! No! Don’t crawl into the creepy old murder house during the day! I don’t care if you think the vampires are sleeping! This isn’t going to end well!” I know most people have those moments when watching movies... but this book (and King in general) usually brings out all the creepy, cringy feels for me.

So, Ben, Susan, and their ragtag band of friends begin to understand the vampire problem, and realize they need to address it before everyone in town either flees, or becomes part of Barlow’s vampire army. One member of their merry band of vampire killers is a little boy by the name of Mark Petrie. Mark lost two of his best friends in the initial round of vampire attacks, and feels guilt about this. If they weren’t on their way to his house to play with his models, maybe they wouldn’t have ended up as part of the un-dead. As a result of this guilt, Mark wants to help the grownups fight the vampires. He’s a bad ass kid. I hope my kid would behave the same way if we were fighting a vampire onslaught in Milwaukee.

King best sums up their crew of vampire killers as, “An old teacher half-cracked with books, a writer obsessed with his childhood nightmares, a little boy who has taken a post-graduate course in vampire lore from the films and the modern prenny-dreadfuls...”

Accurate af.

Part Two ends with a passage I have to share... “The ordinary fellow isn’t half so leery of the superatural as the fiction writers like to make out. Most writers who deal in that particular subject, as a matter of fact, are more hardheaded about spirits and demons and boogies than your ordinary man in the street...”

Part Three: The Real Action, All the Deaths & the Conclusion

Part Three: The Deserted Village wraps everything up. Almost all the residents of ‘Salem’s Lot are turned into vampires, including almost all of the vampire hunters with the exception of Ben and Mark. They ‘nope’ right on out of ‘Salem’s Lot and head for Mexico. Because they’ve seen some shit, and they need to live in perpetual sunshine where they never have to fight vampires again. Only, Ben can’t stop reading the Portland Press-Herald and realizes shit is getting real in Maine again, and they eventually need to go back. Poor Mark; it’s bad enough he lost his friends, had to stake both his parents, and killed the vampire’s keeper. But now he needs to go back? Ugh.

Part three also gives us two coveted Dark Tower references (because, The Beam).

“Ann Norton drew the .38 from the pockets of her wrapper like some creaky gunslinger from beyond time...”

Oh snap. It’s coming. Da da chick, da da chum!

I’ve also failed to mention much about Father Callahan. He was the Catholic priest of ‘Salem’s Lot who suffered a vampire bite despite his crucifix and holy water bath, and was last seen on a bus getting out of town, drinking cheap truck stop liquor. But we’ll see him again. ‘Tis ka.

All and all, a very satisfying book, and I’m very glad I’ve finally gotten around to reading it.

In summation:

Total King Wisconsin Mentions: 4

Dark Tower References: 2

Book Grade: B+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books:

Salem’s Lot

Carrie

Next up is The Shining; which is perfect since Wisconsin is expecting its first major snowfall this weekend. Fun times.

Until next time- long days and pleasant night, readers!

Rebecca

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cfblckfyre · 5 years

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♔ → westeros presents JON SNOW, the LORD COMMANDER of THE NIGHT’S WATCH. a raven sent word that he bears the resemblance to KIT HARRINGTON. the TWENTY EIGHT year old MALE was SELF-CONTAINED & HONOURABLE before the dawn of war, but have now become BROODING & DEFENSIVE. when songs are sung, their verses speak of THE GREAT ROAR OF A LOYAL ARMY, THE CLATTER OF A REJECTED CROWN, THE SLICK SOUND OF A VALYRIAN SWORD BEING DRAWN ; THE SOFT SOUND OF A FUR CLOAK DROPPING ONTO COLD STONE, THE UNFASTENING OF A BELT, THE QUIET SIGH OF SHOULDERS, SLUMPED WITH EXHAUSTION ; THE DETERMINED RISE OF A SPEAKER’S VOICE WHEN THE ROOM BEGINS TO BUZZ WITH INTEREST, THE DEFIANT SNARL OF A WOLF WHEN RILED, THE KINDNESS OF A SICKROOM VISITOR, VOICE HUSHED. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with WESTEROS / THE WALL, but fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

TIS I, THE GIRL WITH THE WEAKEST SENSE OF RESISTANCE TO NEW MUSES OF ALL TIME!! and here is my Jon!! just like before, I’m lazy as hll so I’m just gonna copy the Jon bio I wrote for the rp below & put a tl;dr at the end for my fellow lazy bums xx also hmu for plots on discord!

Jon’s first memory is of his uncle Benjen. His hair was jet black then, like Jon’s own, and he was younger than Jon is now, but he always seemed older than the wind. He used to tell tales by the fireside at Winterfell whenever he visited, long winding stories of witches and goblins and the Others. His old nurse had told them to him, he would say, so he was just passing on the tradition, and one of the men would yell, “bet she had better teats than you!” and Benjen would say, with a grin, “don’t be so sure.”

He would save his special stories for Jon. Before he was old enough to ride, he would sit with his back against his uncle’s knees, a small boy amongst all those wild men, the ladies long retired, eyes wide with curiosity and interest and determination. When the world had gone quiet and the hall was almost empty and the wind whistled in the eaves, he would tell Jon about his beautiful aunt and the dragon prince who had entranced her, who had ruined her, and who had abandoned her to her fate. He would tell stories that were true; his great father riding off to war in Brandon’s stead, and the scattering of rubies at the Trident. He would say, don’t be too hard on Catelyn, she has seen many difficult things. So have I, Jon would think naively. He didn’t know a thing.

It was a boy’s understanding of the world that he had, before the Wall. Anger that he was always put last; grief at the way he was displaced, like water in a stream or the discarded scraps thrown to the dogs; embarrassment at Theon’s barbed words, desperate longing when he saw Catelyn Stark take her daughter Sansa in her arms and press a hiss to that burnished copper head. Those things he could never have – a mother’s reassurance, a favoured son’s confidence in the ground beneath his feet. He could never have Robb’s good looks, not because he wasn’t handsome, but because that sort of bright beauty came from knowing you had always been loved.

Eddard Stark must have known that Jon was a Prince’s bastard – though Jon will never know now, because the man who he would always think of as a father was long since dead – but he was never ever called as such. Those in Winterfell had no trouble believing him to be a Stark, and they were, of course, correct; he had it in every inch of him, in those sharp clear features, those grey eyes. If anyone once questioned Ned’s tale, disbelieving the man could’ve had it in him, they might have assumed he was Brandon’s through some twist of uncertain timeline. Child of a dragon – never. The wolf blood ran too strong. He was raised as a Stark – almost. He was taught to joust and to fight in full armour, as befitted a knight, but he was also taught to use a dagger in close quarters, and pick-pocketing, and forgery, and shooting – though this latter he was miserably poor at. The old Maester used to tell him that he’d better hope he befriended an archer, someone as good as his sister Arya, else he’d be picked off at long range before he ever got to use his fancy sword-fighting skills.

To go to the Wall was not just a wish of his, but a certainty. That was where he belonged, and so the journey up there was no struggle. No matter what happened, what he went through – the death of Mormont; the commanded murder of Quorin Halfhand; the way Ygritte arched underneath him, so close under their furs that they were like glowing embers; and always – always – there was the Wall. It dominated Jon’s dreams. It had its own special scent, old ice crammed together, and it would glow blue in the twilight. The night before he watched the Wildlings, his Wildlings, scale it, he lay under the trees and watched the Wall seem to grow in size as the moon rose and wondered thought about how Ygritte must see it, this great barrier at the end of their world, impassable, impregnable.

It was not, of course, impregnable. It would never be. The Wall is yours, Snow. The Wall was his, and it called out to him as its Commander, and just as a mother can tell when her child is ailing, he knew that eventually it would come down, whether at the hands of Mance and the Horn of Winter, or at the claws of something much worse. He cannot hold Castle Black against the approaching blizzard of blue-eyed warriors without more men, and the Kings fighting down South will not send him more, not even his own brother. Sam reads, and reads, and reads, and comes to him one day, white-faced, snowflakes stark in his hair, with an ancient letter sent to Maester Aemon in Jon’s father’s distinctive hand. The boy. He is not mine.

Jon knows his history. Targaryens born on the wrong side of the sheets rarely come out with their necks intact. He wonders if the dragon queen will do it herself, the old northern way – he doubts it. He is a Stark still – Stark, Snow. Dragons cannot survive the cold, and cold is coming. So he bides his time, he gathers evidence. Sam reads. He beheads Alister Thorne on a cold bright day in weak ice-shaded sunshine. They try and strengthen the castles with the forces they have, and integrate Wildlings, oathless though they are, into the guard rotations. It takes years, almost three, but finally they stand shoulder to shoulder without bloodshed (most of the time).

He isn’t sure what he wants, but for the first time, it seems that he is somebody. The Free Folk are led by Mance Ryder, who kneels to him like he swore he would never kneel to anyone. Jon spends all his time travelling, across the whole country beyond the Wall, all the way to Eastwatch and back again, visiting every tribe, every half-buried village. Sam tends the sick and Jon listens to their woes, and he dispenses justice, and he thinks, guilty and heavy with the thought, this is what a King is. Not sitting up in King’s Landing, drinking lemon wine and playing cards; it’s this, saddle sores and holding a dying baby and taking the blows for a young child whose father beats her. It’s this: Sam teaching him his thrice-damned history, and Thormund Giantsbane laying his sword at his feet. He doesn’t take the title, but people lay piles of dragon glass at his feet, and eventually he, with no royal banner, takes a ship and Sam and Gilly and the baby, a handful of loyal men, Mance Ryder and Val, and sets sail for Dragonstone.

tl;dr: because the red wedding never happened & stannis never came up north, jon’s canon from the death of ygritte has been very altered. he was appointed as lord commander by an overwhelming vote, and has spent the last three years shoring up the Wall against the invasion he knows is coming. In many ways he has acted as a King Beyond the Wall - Mance Ryder, for example, has knelt to him, though they don’t discuss it as such - visiting Wildling camps as far north as people are now willing to go, listening to their troubles, and attempting to come up with a stratagem to defeat the White Walkers. Sam discovered a letter to Maester Aemon revealing the truth of Jon’s parentage, but so far they have managed to keep it a secret. Now, he knows that the only way to win the upcoming life or death struggle is to unite Westeros. He has no intention of being King (he supports his brother’s fight for Northern Independence wholeheartedly), but is not above using his Targaryen blood to force the matter if he has to. All he wants is to safe Westeros, lmao.

#rev.intros #♜ jon. ( intro. )

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anthonianrhapsody-blog · 7 years

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Diomedes

by Yollie Resol

Crimson Claw Pack

His bulging muscles are prominent under the black shirt he wears. The strength of this man is unmistakable as he snaps the poor wolf in half with his bare hands. Piles of dead bodies in human and werewolf form flooded his surroundings. Moonlight is the only source of light to determine who is still alive in the war of every occults. He walks with pride and determination as he passes the combat laid in front of him. Every creature present is in their wolf form to achieve more strength to defend themselves from their opponents, but the ‘wicked’ alpha himself, as they call him, does not need to shift to kill a whole pack with his own hands. He reaches the most enormous rock in the middle of the woods and climb on it. He scans his eyes in the scene in front of him and felt the satisfaction running in his veins. A hoarse laugh is released from him as he sees an omega begging at his feet to spare his life. In a blink of an eye, the omega’s head is thrown across the land.

Purity Pack

Her scream embraces the night’s cold air as she awakens from her horrid dream. Drip of sweat runs down her face as the thin clothing she wore clutches her body like her second skin. The smoke from under her bed makes it harder for her to breathe as she saw the familiar shadow disappearing from her ceiling. Paranoid eyes scan the surrounding as her trembling hands grips the blanket tightly against her chest. She despises the sound of demonic chuckle that echoes the room. She can feel its eyes staring straight at her soul. It is inhuman. Nothing can describe what exactly the black eyed creature was. It is massive and flows around her room like her own shadow. It can be mistaken for a shadow if it was not for its face that can only be seen when it was hit by light and the glowing symbols in its chest that she have no idea what meant.

“Why don’t you leave me alone?” She asked the shadow with a throaty voice. The evil shadow slowly smiles at her before it opened its mouth, “Now, where’s the fun in that sweet Imogen?” It dissolves again in the thin air and in one intake of breath, it is suddenly behind her.

“You know, I never get tired of chasing you,” It said while playing with the ends of her brown hair.

“What do you want from me? I never did anything wrong!” She jumps from her bed and confront the creature. It vanished once again but she knew it is with her, it’s always with her.

“You did nothing wrong, but the moon did. You are not to blame but I can’t just let myself be doomed again.”

“W-what do you mean? What does this have to do with the moon?” She cries out.

“You know very well what I meant. Don’t pretend to be an imbecile.”

Imogen took a step back as the shadow appears in the reflection of the window, “Are…are you talking about my mate?” Her heart starts to beat faster.

The shadow smiles at her, “Feels good doesn’t it? To finally discover what is the reason of your existence?”

“M-my mate is still alive?” Imogen’s voice sounds desperate as she finds answers.

“I really hope he is not but that is something I cannot tell you. Goodbye Imogen, I’ll meet you in your dreams again.” Then the shadow abandons her room.

Bennett’s Residence, Warlock House

The Alpha King’s fist slams the wooden table and it nearly broke in half if it was not for the spell casted on it. Elina Bennett, the highest warlock in the whole community just told the alpha king the news that got him at his edge. “What do you mean that I’m going to die? How dare you!” He barks the words to her. She glares at him as she stride until they are face to face. “You do know that you should never belittle a warlock, right my king?” Elina’s eyes are turning in the shade of red which means that she is beyond pissed by his address to her.

The king shakes and bows his head to Elina, “Pardon me, I was not thinking straight, but please explain to me what you just said because I don’t understand anything at all.” At this moment, the king does not look like a king, he looks vulnerable and defeated. The sorcerer’s eyes turned back to its normal golden color and felt pity for the king, “For the past weeks, I have been getting dreams that the moon wants to talk to me and I never really got the courage until earlier when I woke up with tears in my eyes.”

She walk to her glass table and opens the drawer at the bottom, she rummages inside until she took a piece of burnt paper that looks very old. “A war will arise. But this war is not like any other war, it’s going to change a piece of history in our world.” The alpha king took the piece of paper and saw eight symbols embedded in the middle of the paper.

ᛞ ᛁ ᛟ ᛗ ᛖ ᛞ ᛖ ᛊ

“What do those symbols have to do with the war?” He looks at Elina with tiredness in his voice. “While I’m communicating with the moon, I saw different scenarios, everything is chaos, fire envelopes everywhere, and everything seems like a blur, the only thing clear in the whole scene is certain symbols that are igniting in the middle of the bloodshed. It approaches me and before it nears me, my session with the moon was cut short.”

“Is this the symbols?” His voice became rigid as he returns his gaze to the warlock, the alpha king she knew returning back to the surface. “Yes, I have no idea what those symbols mean or where it came from, if it’s from a creature or a script written as a curse but I believe that we don’t have enough time.” Elina looks at the moon and gaze at it with wonder, “It’s also the symbols present when I saw your death.” The king’s breath hitched as he heard the words. He grips the paper in his grasp with rage in his system. The hum of the wind and his ragged breathing is only thing that can be heard in the silent ambience of the night.

Main Hall, Crimson Claw Pack

The silence is deafening as everyone is calming themselves for the living nightmare. Gabriel, the Beta of the pack, is casually leaning against the wall in the front corner of the room, not showing the little tremble in his heart. Officials are trying to busy themselves with the paper works in their hands, pretending to read them but give up as it did not help stop the shaking of their hands. All eyes are anticipating his arrival as they hesitantly glance at the door every once in a while.

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Ears perks up as rough footsteps are heard and everyone straightens themselves to look presentable for their Alpha. His brows are furrowed as he enters the room and a gulp from the group of men can be heard. He stalks his throne in the middle of the long table and took a seat with a faint snicker, “Some faces in this room really have the guts eh?” He shakes his head and sighs in content, the gruffness in his voice caused shivers to the men.

One of the officials took the courage to speak up, “W-what do you mean by that a-alpha?” It was Raphael, a senior official who was once the Alpha’s mentor in his young age.

“Words spread like fire, all of you know that,” he started, piece of tobacco from one of the men dancing between his long fingers, “Our attack to the Purity Pack has been our plan since two months ago, we take caution to every detail in the plan making and I make sure that all of you are present in every discussion, I guess that shows that I had a little trust to all men present here right?” Every word he says, the men look at each other. “Then do tell me, how the hell did the Purity Pack know that we will attack them huh?” He looks at his beta and motioned for him to come. After whispering to him, Gabriel nodded his head then walks out of the room without any other words.

The departure of the Beta increases the fear of the men, knowing they’ll be left alone with their Alpha. “Mr. Louis? Is the room boiling for you to sweat like a pig?” the Alpha said, and every head present snaps their attention to the most timid man in the room, placed in the farthest seat from the alpha.

The poor man looked like he was about to cry and the Alpha grins like he is enjoying his discomfort. “N-no A-alpha,” Mr. Louis stutters as he avoids looking at him. The Alpha rolls his eyes, “I know you are very aware of the policies in our pack Mr. Louis, considering you are a member of the officials,” with every word, his voice got deeper and darker which got the rest of the men at the edge of their seats, “I am certain you also know that I loathe treason hmm?” the eyes of the Alpha can be seen as black pair of orbs but quickly vanished like it never happened.

The door opens and Gabriel enters the room with a revolver swinging in his hands and every man in the room grips their chairs tightly like their lives depended on it. Mr. Louis stands from his feet and crawls his way to the Alpha while begging for forgiveness, “A-alpha! Forgive me! I didn’t have a choice!” he cries out. The Alpha grows enrage, “Then your faithfulness is not here.” Then he looks at the beta and leaves the room.

As he closes the door behind him, he heard a gunshot and the screams of horror from inside as blood splutters at the window pane of the room.

Purity Pack

The chatter of the crowd lessens as their Alpha, Chris, stands in stage and raises both his hands to silence them. He clears his throat and takes a step to the microphone, “I assume you are all aware by now about the news.” Alpha Chris looks around the mass of people and he can see the fear in their eyes. All mothers are holding their children close to them; the trained army is already positioned on every border of the pack, ready for any threats, while his officials are standing a few steps behind him, trusting their Alpha for his decisions.

“The Crimson Claw Pack has been targeting our pack for a while now, and we do know that when they attack, it’s going to be bloody.” Alpha Chris bows his head and places both his arms behind him, “I believe that we don’t stand a chance.” He looks crushed, like a lost child without his mother.

Murmurs surfaced once again and few violent words were thrown to him, “Are you not going to do anything?!”

“What kind of Alpha are you?!”

A little girl tugs the hem of her mother’s blouse and asks, “Mommy, are we going to die?” The mother could only cry and hold her daughter to her chest, already knowing their fate.

One of the officials walks to the Alpha and places his hand in his shoulder, “What are you saying Alpha Chris?” The soft voice of the man made the Alpha’s guilt feel like a heat wave as he sweats like crazy accompanied with ragged breathing.

“Whatever we do, we know what will be the outcome.”

“We can make a plan! We should be making solutions right now!” The man begs his Alpha.

“Nothing will work for that wicked alpha.” As soon as he finishes his sentence, a deafening siren blares out and they all knew what it meant. They are facing their death in their own land. The Crimson Claw Pack has arrived.

Death Valley

The sun is about to set, the faint ray of light is their only guide as they cross the valley to the land of Purity Pack. The Crimson Claw Pack started their journey for their attack to Purity Pack and everyone is anticipating the faces of the poor wolves when they face them. The loud conversation of the men is the only noise that lifts up the mood of the night.

“Heard that pretty wolves belong to the Purity eh?” A man said out loud.

“Innocent little creatures, easy to play with,” laughs another man, it was the pack’s Gamma, Adrian.

“Can we take one home?” A young man asked. It was the boy who holds the lamp as the sun finally faded.

“Leave no one.” It was from their Alpha, they did not know that all this time, he was listening to their conversations.

“We were just kidding Alpha.”

“Does it look like this is the time for jokes?” He asked in a mocking tone, silencing the men.“Everyone be cautious, we finally entered the Purity Pack.” He stops and faced his army, there are at least twenty of them, and the other seventy are already inside the pack. “As I always said, leave no one. Leave no living soul.” He emphasizes every word. The army nods their head and all of them started to move forward.

The Clearing, Purity Pack

Chaos.

The moment the Crimson Claw wolves arrived, shredded clothes were thrown in the air as all armies’ shifted to their wolf form. They let their wolves take charge in the war. Even women who are unmated also shifted in order to protect themselves from the attackers. Children are taken to the pack house with the pregnant women, terror in their faces evident as they listen to the battle in the clearing.

The wicked Alpha stands in the stage and watch the whole scene laid out in front of him. He saw his beta already tearing the hearts out of Alpha Chris, he witnessed how his men easily throws the opponent to the opposite direction and he also noticed the lost girl hiding behind a tremendous tree in the far end of the clearing.

Before he realizes what he was doing, his feet are already taking him where the girl is hiding. The girl also finds herself standing from her crouched position and before she knew it, her feet are taking her to the man approaching her.

They both close their eyes as they recognize the scent of each other, both in the trance of nirvana as they met halfway. They opened their eyes the same time and pupils dilated as they take in other’s form. Sparks ignite as their gaze met and the Alpha’s wolf is insanely begging to be freed. The noise seems to cease and their heavy breathing is the only thing they hear. Everything clicked as recognition flashed in their faces.

Mate

The Alpha finally woke up from the trance as he heard a blood-shrilling scream from the clearing. He looks at the girl in front of him and can see fascination dancing in her eyes, it made his wolf howls in joy but he restrains himself.

“Mate…” Her voice sends shivers down his spine and he tightly closes his eyes like he is in pain. He opens his eyes and the girl felt a sting in her heart as she saw the coldness in his gaze, the longing look he had earlier was finally gone.

“What is your name?” His questions but it came out like a demand.

She flinched at his tone, “I-Imogen.” What a beautiful name, he thought.

“I am very aware that you are my mate…” He started to slowly walk away from her. Imogen’s feet are rooted at the ground as she anticipates his next words.

“But...I don’t want a mate.” By the time he finished his sentence, he was already at the entrance of the clearing.

Imogen felt like her world stopped as she heard the words. Her eyes starts to water as she take a cautious step towards him, “A-are you rejecting me?” Her voice cracks.

The Alpha’s eyes widen a little as he did not expect those words from her, “My, that is a bizarre idea. If I rejected you, my wolf will weaken and he will eventually die that could result also to my death and we don’t want that to happen. I don’t want a mate but that doesn’t mean that I don’t need one.”

Imogen felt her anger rising up, “That’s the most selfish thing I’ve heard in my life.” As she finishes the sentence, a single tear fell from her eye.

The Alpha looked away and started to stride back to the clearing, “Follow me or you could stay there and wait for my men to snap you in half.” Imogen had no other choice but to follow her mate as she knew that he will be her only savior to her nightmares. Imogen stopped momentarily as her eyes certainly did not miss the hint of glow coming from her mate’s chest.

Alpha King’s Office, The Palace

“My King, I had another vision.” The Alpha King placed his paper works down as he looks at Elina in front of him. He sighs and motioned her to take a seat. She declines, “I will not stay long, but you need to hear my out.” Elina’s trembling hands made the Alpha King to abruptly stand up and take the warlock to his couch. They both sat down.

“Is your vision so important that you travelled far to meet me in my palace?”

“This is about symbols that I told you months ago.” She started.

“What about it?”

“You heard about Isabella Salvatore right?” At the mention of the name, the Alpha King’s head snaps to Elina.

“What does Isa have to do with the symbols?” His voice cracks as he said her name.

“You had an affair with Isabella 29 years ago, and you knew you had a pup. You impregnate her but you left her because you suddenly found your mate from Wisdom Pack.”

He gulps, “I did not know she conceived a pup after our affair, I only discovered about it years after she died…If I only knew we had a child, I would have left my mate. Isabella was my true love.”

“Too late for that don’t you think? Everyone thinks so highly of Isabella because of her elegance and pretty face. She was the last she-wolf alive that time.” She smiles. “A rare beauty…the reason why you noticed her in the first place.” The Alpha King washed his hands in his face as he remembers his Isa. Elina continued, “She was from Sacred Pack and you know their protocols and way of life there. They have certain cults for their own ‘Almighty’, anyone who doesn’t follow their set of laws will have to face a brutal consequences. Isabella tried to hide her pregnancy for three months until a warlock arrived at their pack for patrolling, she saw the pup inside Isabella. The warlock envies Isabella’s beauty so she used the chance to turn everyone against Isabella.”

“Who is the warlock?”

“My mother,” Elina looks down with shame on her expressions. “She announced Isabella’s pregnancy and when they discovered that she was pregnant without a mate, they treated her like a living sin. They torture her to ‘clean’ her soul, they tried to kill your child by torturing her. When they did not succeed, they summoned her to their ‘Almighty’ to pay for their sins, she begged everyone to spare her life for her child but they did not listen. Eventually, a demon was summoned from their ritual and it went through Isabella, killing her instantly. They left her body in the middle of the woods, believing that their Almighty cleaned her soul. They did not know that they left someone behind, her child.”

The Alpha King looks at her with panic in his face, “What do you mean? Is my child still alive?”

“The demon used the child as its host in able to interact with other occults in our present world. It was 29 years ago, I did not see any man in my vision, I’m sorry but I am not certain if the child is still alive or not.”

“What about the symbols?”

“This time, I saw the glowing symbols again but it was accompanied by a wolf, a she-wolf rather, the last one in our generation. I managed to discover who it was. She is Imogen Lockwood, from the Purity Pack.”

“What do the symbols have to do with the story of Isabella?”

“The glowing symbols are embedded in the chest of the demon.” The Alpha King stands up and pace around the room.

“That demon is going to kill me right? Like what you saw on your session with the moon?” He stares out the window and stares at the moon with wonder.

“Yes. But we are not certain; there are scenarios where the moon’s message does not meet the future.” Elina gets up and stands beside the Alpha King, also staring at the moon with curiosity.

“What do the symbols mean?”

“It was a name.”

“What is the name?

“Diomedes.”

To be continued...

#short story #nakpil #ssaseniorhigh

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coin-river-blog · 5 years

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Op-Ed

The blockchain space appeals to freethinkers, entrepreneurs, and visionaries. Many of these iconoclasts practice voluntaryism, although a philosophy which new entrants may have not heard about. This is because they entered into the ecosystem from the financial realm, and their sole focus has been on accumulating more wealth. This is a shame. The impetus for cypherpunks to build encrypted technologies arose from a spirit of sovereignty – not just moneymaking schemes.

Also read: Nvidia Misses Q3 Revenue Target as Cryptocurrency Slump Weighs on Business

What Is Voluntaryism?

Sovereignty denotes a yearning for absolute individual independence. It means many people involved in crypto prefer to live freely, without having to genuflect before someone who claims to rule them; before some king, politician, or governing apparatus. This is the crux of voluntaryism.

Voluntaryists believe all human relationships and interactions should be as consensual as far as possible. They place the notion of “consent” as the North Star of reasoning within the conduit of ethical thinking.

Consent means no human has the moral right to coerce or force another human being into acting against their volition. If someone uses force to sate their whims, that action would be considered immoral and unjust.

In some ways, this philosophy marches in perfect lockstep with the golden rule to treat others the way you wish to be treated. No one wants to be forced into behaving a certain way. No one wants to be harmed or mistreated. Everyone wants to act on their own will, without having to capitulate to others while under duress.

The Barbarian’s Paradigm

By virtue of their philosophy, voluntaryists do not believe government is a moral institution. The organization is at odds with voluntaryist philosophy. Government is non-consensual by nature. Every law, edict, and regulation is effectively a threat of violence against peaceful people. No one automatically consents to government laws. A law is an enforced mandate.

For instance, if someone disobeys a law, a costumed officer will attempt to issue them a ticket or arrest them. If that person moves to defend themselves from that act of aggression, the officer will murder them if necessary.

All government officials disregard consent. They issue or enforce laws regardless if everyone agrees. Therefore, coercive government is the barbarian’s paradigm for social order; it is uncivilized, violent, hysterical, and revels in cultism. It’s sadistic to the extent people are indoctrinated from birth to believe this paradigm of violence is synonymous with “civilization.” In reality, it is uncivilized barbarism writ large on the soul of men.

Logical Conclusion: Anarchism

Without doubt, this means the voluntaryist is an anarchist. Since governments operate without consent, they can never be an acceptable organization within the context of voluntaryist philosophy. Anarchism is thus the logical conclusion of voluntaryism.

However, most people hear the word “anarchy” and they lose their cool. Images of picturesque horror scenes rife with explosions, corpses and gore galore erupt in colorful crescendo via their mind’s eye.

They panic and reject the term ‘anarchy’ as a synonym of disorder. They view anarchy as a form of Lovecraftian madness palatable only to fringe academics, disillusioned teenagers, and bohemian punk rockers with cockney accents.

In reality, anarchy just means “without rulers.” It means no person or group has the right to rule over the rest of humanity. It does not imply bloodshed, bazookas, and bombs.

Edward Abbey said, “Anarchism is not a romantic fable but the hardheaded realization, based on five thousand years of experience, that we cannot entrust the management of our lives to kings, priests, politicians, generals, and county commissioners.”

Bedfellows: Voluntaryism and Blockchain

It is no surprise the first technologists to think about using ciphers to ensure privacy and anonymity were voluntaryists. They were anarchists: crypto-anarchists. They built the architecture of technological anarchism, and they were heavily influenced by voluntaryist philosophy. From day one, they sought to use computational tools to generate more freedom.

Timothy May, the godfather of decentralized-encrypted technology, wrote his Crypto-Anarchist Manifesto while under the influence of Rothbardian thinking. May genuinely believed the ethics of voluntaryism. He set the tone for all future developments, including the creation of Bitcoin and all its anarchic features.

Rekindling the Flame of Freedom

To this day, charlatans with dollar signs in their eyes have eroded the voluntaryist vision of the crypto-anarchists. Instead of seeking to erase the barbarian’s paradigm, they focus on the sexual magnetism of “moon” and “Lambo.”

This is why internalizing the voluntaryist-anarchist roots of the crypto ecosystem is essential. Understanding this history will pave a path to a beautiful new world, and encourage people to embrace the purpose of the technology. It will help abolish government and put an end to the insanity of this uncivilized world. The voluntaryist mindset will act as a compass toward mass adoption and inspire true love of blockchain. In the process, it will rekindle the flame of freedom.

Are you familiar with voluntaryism? Do you still believe voluntaryism is important for the creation of novel technologies?

Images courtesy of Twitter and Shutterstock

OP-ed disclaimer: This is an Op-ed article. The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own. Bitcoin.com does not endorse nor support views, opinions or conclusions drawn in this post. Bitcoin.com is not responsible for or liable for any content, accuracy or quality within the Op-ed article. Readers should do their own due diligence before taking any actions related to the content. Bitcoin.com is not responsible, directly or indirectly, for any damage or loss caused or alleged to be caused by or in connection with the use of or reliance on any information in this Op-ed article.

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