“With Liberty And Justice For All”

Where is my liberty? Where is my justice?

don't be sad. sonic riders concept designs ok?

V for vending machine

yeah

[ID: The cover art of the show Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, except "Dives" has been cleanly edited to say "Knives," and rather than Guy Fieri standing in front of his car, it's Knives from Trigun crossing his arms and scowling at the viewer. End ID]

ID credit to @princess-of-purple-prose !! Tysm!

and we're back! where did we leave off? oh yeah...

ethical debate, can you trust little raph to help you hunt down his brother? juries still out on that one!

next part | other comics in this crossover series (chrono)

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

A quick Reed

This week, Supreme Court Justice Samuel "goes on expensive fishing trips with republican megadonors" Alito decided to use an official Supreme Court order to once again rail against same-sex marriage and the entire concept of safeguarding queer rights.

It was all in response to a case the Supreme Court declined to hear involving the dismissal of 3 potential jurors who claimed that they had been unfairly passed over (yes they're complaining about not being selected for jury duty) due to their religious beliefs. The case involved a woman who was suing her employer for sexual discrimination and retaliation after she started dating the ex-girlfriend of a male coworker. The 3 potential jurors that had not been selected had stated a belief to the court that homosexuality is a sin.

Rather than commenting on the obvious bias three potential jurors had against a party in the case, Alito instead spent five pages ranting about the sheer injustice that had been done to them. The case, he said, fully exemplified the "danger" that he'd predicted back in 2015, when the Supreme Court had legalized same sex marriage nationwide (in a slim 5-4 vote, I will remind):

"Namely, that Americans who do not hide their adherence to traditional religious beliefs about homo-sexual conduct will be labeled as bigots and treated as such by the government."

Again this was a case in which a court ultimately decided that maybe people who believed that homosexuals were sinful shouldn't sit on a case in which one of the parties was one such "sinner." That sounds pretty fair to me; they didn't call them bigots, or evil, or throw them in jail. The court just decided that maybe they weren't a good fit for that particular case. For that particular plaintiff.

But no, a Supreme Court Justice, someone who is supposed to be a scholar of law, turned it in his mind into a government assault against "people of good will."

Never forget how narrow that marriage equality decision had been. Never forget Alito and Thomas are still salty about it 9 years later and have stated in public multiple times they want to revisit this decision. Just like Roe, just like Miranda Rights, just like the Voting Rights Act - they will gut civil rights and established precedent on the altar of their Originalism and make us beholden to the tenets of their personal Gods.

And they're doing it in public too, so they can signal to everyone who thinks like them to keep trying, you have friends here. You have a sure chance of victory.

At the very least, the lesbian with mad game won her case.

Thought you 'n' Reed had a lot in common. 'Cept when it comes to bein' blinded by ideals, well… can skin that cat a dozen different ways. He did everythin' he could to save her. 'S why he'll eventually accept her bein' gone. Whereas you… Guess I was never chasin' ideals, not really. Life - that's what I was runnin' from.

The many faces of Thomas Hewitt…

Your neurons… can no longer handle most implants, chrome. Your brain can manage your personal link and simple coprocessors… but any use of a combat implant could kill you. I’m sorry, V, but the life you used to know is gone. CYBERPUNK 2077: Phantom Liberty (2023) 

calling it now. the new apes trilogy is gonna have an ape/human kiss like the og movie did.

Color study because this game is gorgeous

LORDS OF WINTERFELL + THEIR BASTARD SIBING - Torrhen Stark & Brandon Snow

To say that Torrhen Stark's decision to bend the knee to Aegon I was an unpopular one was an understatment. The king had ruled for nearly twenty years by that point and had maintained a rare tenure of peace and agricultural prosperity before the arrival of the Targaryen invaders. But while the decision to give up his crown may have saved the lives of the people of the North, it cost him the respect of his sons, his lords, and his brother, Brandon Snow.

Brandon was nearly a decade younger than the king, only just older than Torrhen's sons. The two had been close all their lives, as Brandon was raised within the royal Stark family amicably. He was trained as a warrior, one of the finest archers of the land. And he was bold, too. But like the rest of the North, Brandon held on to his grudges. It would be many months before Brandon spoke to Torrhen again after bending the knee to Aegon, and many more years before he considered forgiving his elder brother.

Torrhen prevented Brandon from trying to kill the dragons of Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. Before departing Winterfell, Brandon carved three arrows. He prayed over them, willed the power of the Old Gods to guide them true and slay the beasts. But Torrhen forbade him from using them. They argued and raged at each other before finally Brandon agreed to treat with Aegon, but left his bow behind. By the next morning, Torrhen handed his crown to the conqueror and Brandon spat at his feet.

It was not that Torrhen did not believe his brother could accomplish his mission, and for many years after it haunted him that perhaps he should have let the boy try. But he knew that Brandon would die a martyr in the attempt. Perhaps it as his selfishness to not see his brother, and eventually his sons to die pointless deaths. In the attempt to find a peace, he lost his brother's respect, and his sons struggled to even look at him. Brandon lived in his rage; anger at Torrhen's cowardice, anger at himself for listening to him. But Brandon could not fathom a king's responsability to his country, and did not bear the weight of it. Perhaps Torrhen was preventing his brother from an inevitable failure that which he would be blamed for. The bastard that could not kill a dragon. He gladly kept Brandon's resentment for the rest of his life, if meant saving him that.

not pictured: Johnny's jaw on the floor

(a version without the background is below the cut, cause why not)